"That's strange."
"You think?"
"First of all, the Slayers would want us to know it was them."
"Maybe they assume we'll know but didn't want us to know which member it was?"
"Could be, but there's also the fact that like you said there's nothing here."
"Okay..." he strings the word out and looks at me like I'm an i***t.
"Striker, this is a f.ucking biker bar. This parking lot is usually littered with trash, including cigarette butts, empty bottles. It's not like we clean that s.hit up."
"Which means someone else did," he says, as what I'm trying to say finally dawns on him.
"Right. I'm going to go chat with Lucky, Prez wants the officers to meet tonight at 9, I'm extending the invitation to you as well. You've really been stepping up to help out since he got hurt. And I think we c
