Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-5543592-20190722215436/@comment-5543592-20190802234853

"Ah Jesus, not again." One of the Van Graffs came over, frowning down at the seizing Eva. "The hell's wrong with her?"

On the desk, as Morgan had previously observed, was a basket. The envelopes that sat within it were neatly filed in a row. The first read, in cursive:

To Whom it may Concern

The salesman blinked, but kept his cool composure. He didn't react to the ruckus created at the other end of the store. This was mafia-run retail-- they dealt with all kinds of nonsense.

"Our mercandise is brought in from a variety of different sources." He answered diplomatically. "Which ones were you referring to?"