Sinclair isn't the only one out grocery shopping today.
On the way back, more than sprinting distance from his apartment and turrets, he'll hear squabbling. Raucous voices, the kind that make it hard to tell the difference between a joke and a deadly insult.
"Slug-fucker," cries a woman, "I found it, half of that's mine by rights!"
A man answers her dismissively. He's scratching something across the wall as he walks, a nails-on-chalkboard sound. "Betty, betty, and I found it in yer hands!"
A second's pause. Then he bursts into laughter at his own shitty joke.
They're just on the balcony above, but Sinclair might want to keep the noise down till they're past.
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On the way back, more than sprinting distance from his apartment and turrets, he'll hear squabbling. Raucous voices, the kind that make it hard to tell the difference between a joke and a deadly insult.
"Slug-fucker," cries a woman, "I found it, half of that's mine by rights!"
A man answers her dismissively. He's scratching something across the wall as he walks, a nails-on-chalkboard sound. "Betty, betty, and I found it in yer hands!"
A second's pause. Then he bursts into laughter at his own shitty joke.
They're just on the balcony above, but Sinclair might want to keep the noise down till they're past.