"What? Hold on, just let... me...." He lets his words trail off as he sizes up a parking space. He shifts gears abruptly, and the steering wheel spins as he drifts, the car moving almost directly sideways, into a parking spot by a cafe. (Not a coffee shop. That's something entirely different in Amsterdam.
"There we go." Now that they're stopped, Vincent starts poking around the car. "Must be some clues to last night... Argo, watch your knees."
He manages to wrench open the glovebox, and a pile of papers fall out. A few stacks of bills, the deed to the car, and a number of receipts. The first one he picks up is for... a body art studio?
"...Okay, who's got extra holes and/or metal or a tattoo?" He looks around at his erstwhile comrades.
(Read comments)
Post a comment in response:
scribbld is part of the horse.13 network
Design by Jimmy B.
Logo created by 
hitsuzen.
Scribbld System Status
