“California is different,” the older cop intones, his voice carrying an edge to it. Steely eyes watch as the cowboy-hatted man reaches for his jacket and starts pulling out guns, one at a time. The veteran cop's fingers twitch. Everyone knows what's been going on recently. It's hard not to pay attention to the news and there's an extra edge to every tape-recorded interaction and even, and especially, in California where every interaction is scrutinized.
“You got your Ids?” Asks the rookie cop behind July. There's less of an edge to the rookie's voice, more clouded by idealism that he can help.
The veteran moves forwards, puts his toes onto of the first gun and slides it away to the Rookie.
“Either way, we gotta go to the station,” The veteran informs, “and get this stuff straightened out. You can't conceal carry without one, former US Marshal or not. We won't arrest you, if you continue to be cooperative.”
The Rookie takes the gun, a low-whistle coming from his lips.
“Unless you got a lawyer, that you want to bring along.”
First Two Only, 3Successes \ 1 Success
“Well, then, shit, what am I supposed to do without a name?” Arthur's friend says in his exasperation. “What do you want to do?”