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Freelance Police Headquarters, Tuesday

"Two days, and I haven't seen anything at our client's comic book shop yet," Sam sighed. "Max, I'm afraid we haven't had a case this tough since we were stranded in Sêrxü County, Tibet, tracking down the wild peasant-sniffing Yeti that stole our yak butter."

Not that Sam was giving up. They were, after all, the Freelance Police.

The big plate-glass window still had a cheery sign in it:

NOW HIRING
Employees Must Furnish Own Gun

underneath their logo, with the new postscript:

Our Rates Are Better!

Freelance Police HQ was open.

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They're probably doing something dangerous, ill-advised, and quite possibly illegal.

It's okay, they're freelance police.

"No, Sam, the wild peasant-sniffing was me. The Yeti was just ill-tempered and stinky."

Max amused himself by gouging a drawing into his desktop with a butcher knife.

"You're right, I'd forgotten all about that," Sam mused. "You'd think it'd be hard to forget being locked up in a foul, drafty Tibetan jail cell with a cranky lagomorph and six disease-spreading roaches. I guess I'm getting old."

"No, Sam, you're not old," Max told him soothingly. "Don't worry, you're just going insane. Besides, I'd rather forget the roaches -- I mean, who knew they could play poker so well?"

Sam sighed. "Little buddy, if I've told you once, I've told you a hundred times. Don't check-raise before the flop when you're only holding K-9 suited."

"Why not?" Max protested. "I've just got a thing for suited K-9s, you know? They make me all warm and fuzzy inside."

Sarah wasn't sure she trusted herself to have a coherent conversation with a giant rabbit, but she knew curiosity would get the better of her if she tried to do it over the phone. She straightened her shirt, put on her game face, walked in, and ...

Oh, my. "Hi," she almost squeaked.

Edited 2008-12-03 00:16 (UTC)

"Greetings," Sam said, tipping his hat to the woman in the doorway. "I'm Sam, and this is President Max. Welcome to Freelance Police Headquarters. Do you have a dastardly case full of mysterious evil-doers and ne'er-do-wells? We excel at those."

It was a big talking dog. Yep. She needed to get used to that. "I'm Sarah Walker," she said. "No case yet, but I was in Sunday and spoke to Reno about store security patrols. He said I'd need to finalize the contract with you."

"The CLIENT! Sam, she's the client!!!" Max bounded up from his desk (a tiny little thing like you see in elementary schools) and grabbed for her hand, ready to shake it until her arm fell off. "So... who do you need shot?"

"No one!" Sarah said quickly as she shook the rabbit's hand. "Just a standard patrol to make sure no one breaks in. No shooting."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Walker," Sam said. "We've had exterior patrols of your location for the last two nights. Today, we stopped on our lunch break to speak with one of your valued employees." Considering Max's outburst, he added, "Don't worry, we didn't shoot him."

That was interesting.

"I must have been confused," Sarah said, making the effort to be gracious in spite of her fear she was being ripped off. "I thought you weren't starting until we'd worked out the financial details."

"We like to get a jump on cases," Sam said, looking a bit sheepish. "There could have been miscreants lurking in the dumpster, waiting for a moment to strike. Turns out we haven't seen any miscreants yet. Lots of mice."

"Fewer mice, now!" Max added cheerfully.

"It is a comics shop," Sarah pointed out. "Mice could destroy my stock. I'm glad you're enthusiastic."

"So the offer I made to Reno was aceptable?"

"We're always enthusiastic when it comes to firearms and other assorted weapons," Sam promised. "And justice. Your offer was fan-tastic. We decided to show a little initiative, start early."

They got bored if they went a few days without anything to shoot at. (Not counting each other.)

"I appreciate your enthusiasm, and I 'm really happy to work with you," Sarah said, then hesitated. "Call me if you think anything big is going on and there's time, okay? I'd like to know what's happening."

Max moved to block Sarah off from the door, folded his arms behind his back, and tried to look down his nose at her -- which was hard, because he was a few feet shorter than her. "Your offer was mediocre," he insisted, contradicting Sam. "We demand at least five dollars more per day, PLUS a giant-size bag of Cheezy Poofs."

Sarah resisted the urge to act out of her impatience, and looked down at Max. "Two dollars more a day, and you can have the snacks at the store counter."

She'd just need to start keeping some in stock.

"That's going to cost you more, in the long-run," Sam advised cheerfully. "Max, no driving our client out of business by mercilessly eating all of her assorted snack goods."

The giant dog got a smile for that. "I'll leave one bag of cheesy poofs at the front counter tomorrow," she promised.

"Not even just a little bit?" Max pleaded with Sam, holding thumb and finger this far apart to show just how little he was going to drive her out of business. Then he sighed.

"All right, lady, you drive a hard bargain, but you've got yourself a deal. ...So, who do we shoot, again?"

"No one," Sarah said flatly. "You shoot no one."

If anyone needed to be shot at her store, she would do it.

Riiiiiiiiiiiing!

No world-ending on our watch!

We get paid to stop that from happening!

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Freelance Police Headquarters, Tuesday

Talk to Sam and Max!

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Phone!

OOC