The problem with trying to find information in the City of Angels is that the whole city has got so many mouths with all wanting to chat shit at exactly the same time. Add to that the general smell and Vinny was starting to get twitchy, sucking down more nicotine sticks than would viably be healthy for a man his age.
The fact he was a werewolf, however, seemed to push away any fears of lung cancer.
He plodded the streets not far from the house he'd rented for the pack sent from Sacramento to find out more about the Bad Muthafucker Spirit and a way of defeating it. Not venturing too far to begin with, listening to the city's million voices and trying to pick at anything resembling a howl.
All he seemed to get was a rumbling of his stomach.
"Fuck me, I'm hungry," he said out loud to those accompanying him. "I swear, once we're done, I'm ordering some Chinese. All in?"