abrightboy | (Reply)

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"I-" Art started, accent drawling it out to something more phonetically inline with 'iaaa' as his greyed eyebrows rose, and as the only hair on his face right now, being bald despite the ballcap on, was highly indicative to how right Malcolm was,"- have been chasing this particular clan of assholes for 25 years; hell yes it's personal." Sensing he was starting to reach out of his own bounds, Art took a deep breath, chin tucking in slightly as he tried to return himself to professionalism.

"What I need is someone familiar with the ground today. Like any other craft, assholism is generationally taught and each one does it differently. I haven't been in New York since the 60's, shit," he swore with a glance at his team, who were trying their best to not have noticed his outburst.

"Landscapes change," Raylan supplied, amusement tucked into the folds of his forehead as he gestured. "Who knows that better than locals."