"No," he says simply, handing over the canteen. He looks up at the grimy sky, and his mouth twists sharply and he looks away again.

"Doesn't matter. We gotta go today." He rakes a hand through hair in sore need of a wash. Used to be like this all the time. "They'll be moving him. If they haven't already." If the theater is a central location, it'll also be a distribution point for the entire operation. Shipments heading out for smaller skin markets, not just in Chicago but maybe anywhere in what used to be Illinois.

"And that's if they don't realize what they have."