"I heard someone's paying you to protest? How much did you pocket?"
The wilderness hunter with the gold ring lit up a cigarette and passed one to York.
"Just follow them around and I got two hundred in hand," York smiled as he placed the cigarette in his mouth, "I've never made money this easily, but those Organizers must be skimming more off the top, f**k, why do other people always get the good rackets."
"Yeah."
The gold-ringed wilderness hunter sighed as well and then whispered, "Speaking of which, have you got a new target recently?"
"Was just about to tell you," York's eyebrows twitched as he glanced at the hotel up ahead,
"I saw a big fish yesterday, clearly someone with status among those Wanderers, a refugee. Probably carrying a lot of cash, must be staying at that hotel up front. I wouldn't dare to hog such a windfall by myself—ask Hank the boss if he's got time, I've been staking out the area for the last few days."
"Are you too scared to hog it all to yourself?"
