For a certain ex-bandito, one of the unexpected advantages of the fallout was one of the main disadvantages for everyone else: objects were out of place. Valuables that had once sat stacked high on a display had slid across the street and into the gutter. Things that should have been inside had ended up outdoors. It was chaos, really.

And Tuco was never against playing the good samaritan when it came to retrieving said valuables—especially when the owners were nowhere to be seen. In light of this, he was winding his way down the path in a zig-zagging motion, head tilted down like he was lost in thought. And he was, funnily enough; his mind was as busy as his eyes, rolling along in some convoluted thought stream that only stuttered to a stop when he heard someone greeting him.

He jerked his head up, glancing around himself before letting his eyes settle on Visscher. His brows drew together. "You and me, we know each other?"