Patrick

[kabukiman]

A man starts knocking the window of the car
-Senõr? Can I speak to you?-he is probably mexican

[Mr. Handy]

"Yes?" says Patrick, though he keeps the window rolled up and his hand never goes far from his Glock. "What is this about?"

[kabukiman]

-Do you want to buy good stuff? Nothing of chemicals, but true natural things? We cultivate the best marijuana. This won't blow your mind or poison you blood.

[Mr. Handy]

"No thanks, man," says Patrick. "I'm driving, and I don't want to slow my reflexes."

[kabukiman]

-Really? But marijuana is cheap! You won't find any better. Or maybe some tequilla?

[Mr. Handy]

"Sorry, maybe another time," says Patrick with a shrug. "Like I said, I'm the designated driver. Say, you must know a lot about what goes on in this neighborhood. Anything interesting happening lately?"

[kabukiman]

-Well, nothing of special. Everyday lot's of cars came here to make some races. The gang is pretty ok. They don't bother us, we don't bother them, and we ocasionally sell stuff to some lost client. And since the police don't come here, everybody is happy.

[Mr. Handy]

"Has anyone from outside the neighborhood come by recently to do business with the gang?" asks Patrick.

[kabukiman]

-I don't know. Lot's of cars come everyday. Sometimes some of the gang leave the place and return in the same day. By we don't ask questions.

[Mr. Handy]

"Yeah, that's probably a good idea," says Patrick. "Please, tell me about the races. They sound interesting."

[kabukiman]

-Well, it's just races. Some rich and spoilded kids appear, they gamble about the winners and ocasionally they shoot themselves.

[Mr. Handy]

"Oh, I was hoping it was something cooler," says Patrick. "I love cars and play a lot of virtual racing games. I'm a pretty good driver, but I've never tried racing for real. These kids sound like amateurs. Are any of them really good?"

[kabukiman]

-Well, they are not professionals, and most of them hardly know how to drive, but a couple of them is ok.

[Mr. Handy]

"I could probably race rings around them, then," says Patrick. "If I had a good enough car, that is. This one's okay for getting around, but it's no race car. What kinds of cars do these kids race? Probably expensive ones by the sound of things."

[kabukiman]

-All kind of cars. Some bring ferrari's and lamborgini, but seem to forget that this isn't a pave road where you may done 200 miles; you will probably break the car or have an accident. And there are a lot of accidents, Trauma Team is always busy here. Good driving is probably better than a good car.

[Mr. Handy]

"I thought they'd use cars like that," says Patrick. "The Lamborghini is one of the finest racing machines there is. With the amount of accidents they have, though, I wouldn't want to risk a valuable car like that in the race - not to mention my own neck. You're right, it would be better to use a cheap but well-built car, as long as you're a good enough driver."

[kabukiman]

-So, are you buying anything?

[Mr. Handy]

"No, thank you," says Patrick. "Maybe another time."

[kabukiman]

-Hijo da la puta! Gringo de mierda!
He leaves the car. You don't understand his words, but you can see he is really mad at you.

[Mr. Handy]

"Hold on a minute!" calls Patrick. He doesn't understand Spanish, but he can tell by the man's tone that he's furious, and he doesn't want any trouble for him or his friends. "You know, I think I will buy a bottle of tequila after all. I can always drink it at home, or give it to a friend."