>> Stash loot in car, ask Ashley to drive
As you drag a tarpaulin full of stolen goods through your front garden, you worry that Ashley might have questions. These questions might reasonably pertain to where the goods came from, why they were misappropriated, and whether or not you intend to return them at any point. Clearly, that line of questioning will do nothing to progress the case, and is therefore a waste of precious time. Having spent the last few days in such unbroken concentration on the case, focusing every shred of your attention on only the most critical investigative tasks, you feel that such distractions cannot be countenanced.
For a moment you consider filling the hard hat with oil and cash as a makeshift flammable device, one which might be returned at speed to the neighbour's garage to put to bed any questions about your goods, but you decide against it. The best thing to do is act natural, get the equipment in the car, and ask Ashley to get you towards your destination.
"Is the car unlocked, Ash?" you ask, your voice a mask of perfect innocence.
"No not yet. One sec." she replies, fishing around in her inventory for the key. You hope that it is less choked with emergency supplies than yours.
A flashing of indicators informs you of your car's newfound accessibility. Doing no favours for the modest lawn of your front garden, your tarp carves a path towards the street and leaves a muddy trail on the pavement. You shake your head at the deplorable state of street cleaning around here, and resolve to default on your next few council tax payments. You've barely got the boot of the car open when your heart, for the first time ever, sinks a little at the sound of Ashley's voice.
"What do you have there, Luce?" she asks.
"Just a few supplies I thought we might need. There might be some evidence of Gertie and Gertie's wrongdoing in here, so we'd be remiss to leave without it." you reply, thinking on your feet and feeling wily as a fox. You try to look Ashley in the eye, to really sell the cover story, but her own gaze is tracing the line of mud and carnage back to the Goodwills' garage.
"So I see." she says, softly. "It was very kind of the Goodwills to let you borrow those things, especially after their month long hunger strike for awareness of climate change. To think that they managed to keep up their regular volunteering at the hospital, and their litter-picking walks, while having nothing more than room temperature water to sustain them, is absolutely incredible. We really must return that book on impulse control they lent us."
You remember that book vividly. It had an enormously positive impact on your life. In particular, you recall how entertaining it was to watch it spin in the toilet bowl before finally succumbing to the power of the flush, which in turn would make honouring Ashley's desire to return it rather challenging.
"Yes." you say, conveying all relevant information succinctly. "Anyway, shall we get going? You can drive if you like." you continue, heaving the tarpaulin into the vehicle. You hear the unmistakably sound of a bottle of antifreeze splitting beneath the weight of a chainsaw, but pay it no mind as you close the boot lid again.
"Yeah, I can drive." Ashley says, brightly. "I suppose it's for the best that you let steady old me stick behind the wheel; while we might be in a hurry, we wouldn't want to risk an accident with the way you race about." You can't deny that, of the pair of you, Ashley's driving is the most relaxing and controlled. It means you get to spend more time together each journey though, so you've never minded.
In your now practiced way, you once again thread Drainpipe Von Staffen through the window of the rear doors, its own head ready to headbutt any agents of the elderly woman who might be lurking on the streets. Steadfastly refusing to check the road for traffic, you step out to the passenger door and open it wide. An inconsiderate driver mounts the kerb on the opposite side of the street, apparently labouring under the delusion that sounding their hooter and swearing at you will make their violent swerving sufficiently safe for suburban travel.
After her own trip to the boot with the petrol can, Ashley climbs into the driver's seat and starts the engine.
"Here we go again!" she says happily, as she slams the car into first, keeps her eyes well off her mirrors, and wheel spins carefully into motion.
For a moment you consider filling the hard hat with oil and cash as a makeshift flammable device, one which might be returned at speed to the neighbour's garage to put to bed any questions about your goods, but you decide against it. The best thing to do is act natural, get the equipment in the car, and ask Ashley to get you towards your destination.
"Is the car unlocked, Ash?" you ask, your voice a mask of perfect innocence.
"No not yet. One sec." she replies, fishing around in her inventory for the key. You hope that it is less choked with emergency supplies than yours.
A flashing of indicators informs you of your car's newfound accessibility. Doing no favours for the modest lawn of your front garden, your tarp carves a path towards the street and leaves a muddy trail on the pavement. You shake your head at the deplorable state of street cleaning around here, and resolve to default on your next few council tax payments. You've barely got the boot of the car open when your heart, for the first time ever, sinks a little at the sound of Ashley's voice.
"What do you have there, Luce?" she asks.
"Just a few supplies I thought we might need. There might be some evidence of Gertie and Gertie's wrongdoing in here, so we'd be remiss to leave without it." you reply, thinking on your feet and feeling wily as a fox. You try to look Ashley in the eye, to really sell the cover story, but her own gaze is tracing the line of mud and carnage back to the Goodwills' garage.
"So I see." she says, softly. "It was very kind of the Goodwills to let you borrow those things, especially after their month long hunger strike for awareness of climate change. To think that they managed to keep up their regular volunteering at the hospital, and their litter-picking walks, while having nothing more than room temperature water to sustain them, is absolutely incredible. We really must return that book on impulse control they lent us."
You remember that book vividly. It had an enormously positive impact on your life. In particular, you recall how entertaining it was to watch it spin in the toilet bowl before finally succumbing to the power of the flush, which in turn would make honouring Ashley's desire to return it rather challenging.
"Yes." you say, conveying all relevant information succinctly. "Anyway, shall we get going? You can drive if you like." you continue, heaving the tarpaulin into the vehicle. You hear the unmistakably sound of a bottle of antifreeze splitting beneath the weight of a chainsaw, but pay it no mind as you close the boot lid again.
"Yeah, I can drive." Ashley says, brightly. "I suppose it's for the best that you let steady old me stick behind the wheel; while we might be in a hurry, we wouldn't want to risk an accident with the way you race about." You can't deny that, of the pair of you, Ashley's driving is the most relaxing and controlled. It means you get to spend more time together each journey though, so you've never minded.
In your now practiced way, you once again thread Drainpipe Von Staffen through the window of the rear doors, its own head ready to headbutt any agents of the elderly woman who might be lurking on the streets. Steadfastly refusing to check the road for traffic, you step out to the passenger door and open it wide. An inconsiderate driver mounts the kerb on the opposite side of the street, apparently labouring under the delusion that sounding their hooter and swearing at you will make their violent swerving sufficiently safe for suburban travel.
After her own trip to the boot with the petrol can, Ashley climbs into the driver's seat and starts the engine.
"Here we go again!" she says happily, as she slams the car into first, keeps her eyes well off her mirrors, and wheel spins carefully into motion.
- Attempt boarding manoeuvre on another car
- Remove car radio to reduce weight
- Start rousing game of 'sudden handbrake'
- Surf on roof