Ain't much to it.

[ Len shrugs. Even the abridged version that particular tale is simple enough, despite lacking some contextual details. He just isn't in the business of trading something for nothing, particularly with the offer of a drink on the table. After all this, they could use one. He saunters closer at a leisurely pace, conversational- ]

But tell you what: you find some liquor at our next pit stop? I'll give you that story.

[ -and stopping just a couple feet away, extending a hand. ]

Len Darin. Courier.