[ There's just something about the way Len talks that falls pleasantly on the ear, his turns of phrase just a little exotic and unexpected--not exactly the way people talk in old cowboy holotapes, because Danse imagines nobody really does talk like that, but close enough to evoke them. It's nice. Nice enough to want to hear more of, and certainly to give Danse a reason beyond mere courtesy not to tell him to piss off. ]

Been a while since I ran up against anything I couldn't brute-force if I had to, but you're right.

[ If nothing else, he can find some gallows humor in the fact that a stuck flat tire is now such an apt metaphor for his entire life. He doesn't take long to locate the tire iron, because it would be a disappointment to come back and see that Len's found something better to do after all, and sets about loosening things with more finesse this time. It's not so much his forte. ]

You know, I've only ever known a few people from out west, but the one thing they always tell me is that you have better music than anything on our airwaves.