"Huh," Chance replied. The band didn't look interesting to her. It was mostly interesting because of the venue.
Worst. Club name. Ever.
She toyed with the idea of giving the cashier an earful about the club's namesake's war crimes, and political machinations, and... Then Chance caught the gleam of the camera lens focused on the spot just in front of the register. Exactly where she was standing now.
Chance coughed and tugged the hood of her hoodie forward a bit, then grabbed a flyer. For appearances sake.
"Cool," she said in a slightly gruffer voice than her natural one, "I'll check it out." She handed over twenty-five bucks and hurried out the door without waiting for change.
A moment later she was back in the car, slamming the door shut behind her almost simultaneously with starting the engine and putting the seat belt on.
"We're moving," she told Agnasci. "Where's the meet? Here." She handed him the flyer from the store as she pulled out of the filling station and headed anywhere, away.