The Sergeant's deadline is tonight. An offer to get in contact with people you know, yet also a threat. Given how fed up he was, it's unlikely he's joking about the kind of cruelty he's willing to go through for the sake of getting what he wants.
That's why it may not be so surprising that, early in Friday morning, there's this air of tension, despite the bright sun in the sky. It doesn't help that a firetruck and a couple patrolcars race through the streets, passing in front of the motel and going west. The reason why is clear after a single glance:
There's a thick column of black smoke emanating from somewhere inside the Junkyard.
[hmmm... everything was moved, but that doesn't help him, unless something big was missing. all he can think of now is looking to see if there's a checklist that could show quantities of each item. that would tell if something was missing, right? he doesn't know for sure, though.
[No checklist, unfortunately. Looks like all you have is the certainty someone rooted through here.
The walls have nothing, and the floor have more signs someone looked around for stuff -- there are a few random objects on the floor near the cabinets. Nothing that stands out, just stuff that once was in their rightful places, fell down, and didn't get picked up]
[he'll tuck the information away for later. it may be nothing, but... at least he has something to talk about whenever the Sergeant calls for him. ollies out!]
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anything off about the floors, or walls?]
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The walls have nothing, and the floor have more signs someone looked around for stuff -- there are a few random objects on the floor near the cabinets. Nothing that stands out, just stuff that once was in their rightful places, fell down, and didn't get picked up]
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