Day 42, Afternoon: Callahan's Grocer
Feeling slightly enlightened, Indy headed back down Main Street in search of his next quarry--those damn elusive cigarettes for Sanzo. The obvious place to start was the corner store, which, as it turned out, happened to be on the next corner. Callahan's Grocer. Indy went in.
The store was clean, even cozy, and larger than he'd expected--partially because it included a butcher's shop, Indy guessed, but it also just had a wider variety of food than he was used to. Like the Institute, this place was obviously getting shipments in frequently; all this couldn't be grown locally, given how fresh it looked in the dead of winter. Looked like the good people of Doyleton didn't get their milk delivered, either. Aside from the butcher's counter and the register where you paid, it was all self-service.
Indy offered a polite greeting to the man at that register--the owner, presumably--and started examining the aisles. The shelves turned out to hold a large array of tins and boxes of food and cooking ingredients, but no cigarettes. He headed up to the register with the intent of asking the owner (Callahan?) where he could get some, but--hey, weren't those rolling papers behind the counter?
"You know," he said conversationally to the man behind the register, "normally I'm not much of a smoker, but a hand-rolled cigarette would really hit the spot today." He took the coupons out of his pocket and fanned them on the counter. "'Fraid I don't have any cash, but maybe we could work out a trade? You'd be doing me a big favor."
Indy was prepared to fork all four of them over if he had to. There was enough left in the paper sack to get him through the day, and he couldn't think of anything else he needed more than Sanzo's information right now.
[for Callahan and then for Dean]
The store was clean, even cozy, and larger than he'd expected--partially because it included a butcher's shop, Indy guessed, but it also just had a wider variety of food than he was used to. Like the Institute, this place was obviously getting shipments in frequently; all this couldn't be grown locally, given how fresh it looked in the dead of winter. Looked like the good people of Doyleton didn't get their milk delivered, either. Aside from the butcher's counter and the register where you paid, it was all self-service.
Indy offered a polite greeting to the man at that register--the owner, presumably--and started examining the aisles. The shelves turned out to hold a large array of tins and boxes of food and cooking ingredients, but no cigarettes. He headed up to the register with the intent of asking the owner (Callahan?) where he could get some, but--hey, weren't those rolling papers behind the counter?
"You know," he said conversationally to the man behind the register, "normally I'm not much of a smoker, but a hand-rolled cigarette would really hit the spot today." He took the coupons out of his pocket and fanned them on the counter. "'Fraid I don't have any cash, but maybe we could work out a trade? You'd be doing me a big favor."
Indy was prepared to fork all four of them over if he had to. There was enough left in the paper sack to get him through the day, and he couldn't think of anything else he needed more than Sanzo's information right now.
[for Callahan and then for Dean]