Quote:
Originally Posted by Rocket Man
"Job for a boss," he says. His own baggage, as he retrieves it, is light -- a worn, dusty duffel bag and a guitar case. "Mr. Stoneman's good folk; gave me a temp job when I needed it. Do a lot for him between gigs."
He blushes a moment. "Sorry, ma'am. Forgot my manners." He sticks out a callused hand, shifting the duffel to his shoulder. "I'm Kane." A quick hum adds Eumolpius Sings-Well.
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She follows him off the plane, careful not to get too much dust on her impeccable clothes. "Stoneman is good, I'm told. But I do alright. When you can call your boss 'Mike' and still respect him, you've got it good. It's just odd that David, er, Mr. Stoneman is bringing someone into San Francisco for a job. Granted, he won't find the likes of you in the city. What job requires your particular talents?"
Her tone never wavers, quiet, measured, a polite friendliness that seems to lack depth. It's as though she's asking about the music charts.