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drina perez ([info]yourdefender) wrote in [info]inpoormerit,
@ 2010-03-05 23:03:00

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Entry tags:cath, cath and drina, drina

WHO: Drina and OPEN
WHERE: Beginning in Golf-2; Exploring around her new "home"
WHEN: late morning, noonish


Drina was conscious before she actually realized that she was awake. Instead of being caught in a place of thoughtless darkness, she was acutely aware of an ache in her muscles and the feeling of dizzyness, even though she was lying down. She couldn't remember exactly what had happened before, but she certainly remembered the men dressed in black masks. She moved her fingertips, one at a time, and then each of her toes to make sure she had suffered no injuries to her limbs or spine. Her neck turned to the right and then to the left and once she was satisfied that she still had the ability to move, her eyes opened.

Bright sunlight filtered in through a nearby window, illuminating a white room with red trim. The ceiling had a strange texture to it, and in the middle, a ceiling fan was silently rotating. This was not her home. This was not where she was supposed to be. She bolted upright in bed, a little too quickly, she learned as a wave of slight nausea hit her. When she swallowed, all she could taste was copper, and it was disgusting. Her eyes left the walls for a brief moment to travel down to her bulging stomach. Her hands caressed the flesh only for a second, before she was assured enough to stand up.



The room she was standing in looked nothing like her bedroom at home. It was smaller and there was a bright red wardrobe in one corner and a black desk on the opposite wall. Before she continued her exploration, her attention was directed toward a netbook sitting open on top of the desk. It flashed and there was a message waiting to be read. A message from someone calling themselves "The Commissioner."

The little hairs on Drina's arms rose as she felt the anxiety creep up through her body. The only hint to her location was that she was on an island. She closed the browser and immediately tried to pull up an email account, a networking site, anything that would contact her with husband or family. Nothing worked. All that she was able to find was her ability to post things on the netbook. Like a networked blog, or something. Her experience and history as a police officer kept her fear on a dull burn rather than a roaring flame. She walked over toward the wardrobe, where she found several of her favorite outfits; the nearest one was a khaki sundress. She lifted it out of the wardrobe along with a pair of flat sneakers and dressed herself before exploring the rest of the residence.

Drina noticed several artifacts from her home, including the baby blanket her mother had sent to her just a week ago. She felt her heart skip a beat when she saw a large portrait of her and Heath standing together. Without another thought or word, Drina was out the door, looking for answers.

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[info]dian_cecht
2010-03-06 07:21 am UTC (link)
Cathair had finally given in to his growling stomach around mid morning and stopped to grab some brekky at the shop where the food was. It niggled at him to trust food someone else had prepared, but really, if these people wanted to do anything to any of them, they had ample time between the abductions and the time they woke up. So whatever they might be lacing the food with wasn't likely going to do anymore damage. And he needed food to think properly and strong coffee didn't hurt anything either.

He was wandering around the cottages getting a better mental layout when he spotted a woman walking around. Like Riffraff, she seemed to have a purpose in mind, but unlike the scrawny English girl, this woman appeared to be pregnant. He stopped in his tracks, crossing himself as he muttered a curse under his breath. Didn't that just make the motives of whomever had captured them even more sinister?

Hopefully, this encounter would start out better than his last one. "Hello?" he called as he started crossing towards the woman.

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[info]yourdefender
2010-03-06 07:46 am UTC (link)
Drina was so engulfed in her own confusion that when she heard someone call out, she jumped just a little out of being startled. Recovering quickly, she stopped walking and waited as the man approached her. He looked seemingly as confused as she did - his wardrobe certainly didn't hinder that assumption - and so she didn't think that he was someone who had brought her here, but that didn't rule him as an ally just yet.

"Hello." She spoke cautiously. The men who had broken into her house had already surprised her once, and that was more than enough. She wasn't about to let it happen a second time, but there was a nagging voice in the back of her head that kept mentioning her baby. There was no way Drina could fight like she could have five months ago without injuring the unborn child in her womb.

She wondered briefly if this man was perhaps a native to the island, but again, she doubted his connection to this place. "What's your name? Can you tell me anything about this place? How you got here or anything like that?" Interrogation was something that was second nature to Drina, and instead of simply asking questions, every inquiry she made fell into the pattern of her old job.

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[info]dian_cecht
2010-03-06 07:55 am UTC (link)
Well, at least she was being careful. Cath couldn't fault her that. He shook his head at her rapid fire concise questions. He'd interrogated people before himself, he recognized the tone. "Cathair Delaney," he said, his thick Northern Irish accent obviously when he spoke more than one word. "I was kidnapped from my apartment, same as you, I imagine." His pale complexion and the fact he was wearing long sleeves, as well as his accent, gave him away as not local. "There's a collection of cottages that're living quarters. A few shops, all of them open and fully stocked. One of them is a pub with food already prepared. I haven't made it outside of the town yet, but I'm guessing the island's only a few kilometres across itself. Where we are, couldn't tell you during the day. Might have a better idea on a clear night."

He was no astronomer, but he knew where a few constellations ought be in Ireland this time of year That would at least give them a vague idea which hemisphere they were in. He hoped.

Cath had answered her questions, now he had a few of his own. "And you are?" he prompted. "Are you alone?" The baby she was carrying had to have a father and he'd not missed the ring on her left hand either. She had a husband somewhere, who was likely frantic with worry about her disappearance if he wasn't here as well. "Have you had anything to eat?"

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[info]yourdefender
2010-03-06 08:25 am UTC (link)
Interrogating people over the years had given Drina some talent with knowing when people were lying, and as far as she could tell, this Delaney character was being honest. She listened to each of his answers, logging the information away so she could analyze it later on. She was somewhat surprised by his thick accent, but being bilingual had given her a slight advantage in patience and understanding people. When he implied that they might be able to determine their location that night, she was surprised to learn he was educated. He might have had a fund of knowledge in useless trivia before he came here, but that little tidbit seemed to be a rather useful idea.

As a police officer and special agent, Drina was not used to having the questions turned toward her, and so she did not want to be very forthcoming at first. "My name is Drina Perez," she knew that her surname was off putting to some, because her husband was Caucasian and she had not taken his last name, but she had her reasons for that. She decided not to share her occupational information with Cathair; it was stored away in a secret arsenal should she ever need to use it.

When he asked if she was alone, she had noticed his eyes flickering towards her stomach. The inquiry wasn't simply asking 'Are you alone,' it was implying 'Is there a man here with you,' and for the briefest of moments, Drina felt her temper flare. An eyebrow quirked and her jaw tightened slightly. "Yes I am alone. My husband was out of town when I was taken and won't return home until the end of the week." Her tone was harsh and her words were clipped and short.

"Tell me, Cathair, was it? What were you doing before you were captured and brought here? Were you asleep in your apartment? Watching TV, relaxing? Let me tell you what I was doing." Drina had no legitimate reason to snap at him, but the morning had only set her in a foul mood. "I was home, alone. Getting ready to start maternity leave while my husband was out of town. I had spent the evening relaxing. Took a bath and everything. But when I went to bed, something wasn't right. So I went downstairs to check everything. There were three men waiting for me. Three men for one pregnant woman. One man managed to grab me and he now has a broken nose. I tried to get to a phone to call someone, but the third man was waiting in the shadows to knock me out. So before you begin to think that I need a man here to protect me, think again." What Drina wouldn't admit to herself, or anyone else at that point, was that she was terrified because she couldn't protect herself the way she needed to. One wrong move and she could injure her baby, or worse.

She took a deep breath to calm down. She knew that he didn't mean to set her off, and she actually apologized for it. The last thing that Drina had thought about was food and she knew that, eventually, she was going to have to stop and eat. Fortunately, being pregnant made her want to eat all the time. "I haven't. Not yet."

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[info]dian_cecht
2010-03-06 08:37 am UTC (link)
Cathair actually took a step back as she started chewing his ear off. Saints, she was one of those women. He always wondered what in the world had convinced these feminists that asking if they were all right and offering to hold doors from them was an affront to their equality. Everyone with half a bloody brain knew that the genders weren't equal. Men were lead around by women from the moment they were born. They were raised by women, often taught by them, and then if they were lucky, married to one that would keep them in line for the rest of their lives. It was just the way things were.

Or the way he had been raised. Maureen Delaney had never worked a day in her life, but she had raised her son with an iron rod. If he'd not at least asked after a women who was clearly alone and with child, she'd have turned over in her grave, then rose from it to track him down and cuff him about the ear for his bad manners.

"I was asleep," he admitted. "I heard something, but didn't get much of a chance to do anything before they got me with the tranquilizer." That wasn't entirely true. He had chosen not to fight back, because he had thought he'd been caught and didn't need anymore blood on his hands or his soul any dirtier than it was. He was about to inform her he hadn't meant what he asked like that when she apologized for chewing his ear off and went on to answer his last question.

"I can show you where the pub is with the food," he told her. He would offer to accompany her when she looked around, but he had a feeling he might get his nose broken for that.

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[info]yourdefender
2010-03-06 07:56 pm UTC (link)
Guilt did not sit well with Drina, and she certainly felt a bit guilty about jumping down his throat. He had never meant to rouse her anger, but her temper was flaring in this place with the lack of concrete answers. It just so happened that Cathair was the person to receive her first rant (because she doubted very seriously that it was the only one she was going to have). She pulled her thick, long hair back into a ponytail, before clearing her throat.

Drina wanted to see the layout of the shops that he had mentioned, and she figured that the pub wasn't far off from the rest of the buildings. If she had been on her own, searching for food probably would have been something she did much later, but just thought of food had a low hunger rolling in her stomach. She could tell that he was a bit wary about escorting her to the pub, and it would have been an amusing thought if she wasn't stressed beyond belief. "Lead the way, then," she offered, hand placed firmly on her hips.

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[info]dian_cecht
2010-03-06 09:20 pm UTC (link)
Guilt was an old acquaintance of Cathair's. He lived with a great deal of it, from the usual Catholic Guilt to the weight of his crimes. He hadn't meant to make her feel guilty. Likely of all of them, she had the most right to be angry. It wasn't just her life that was in danger.

"All right," he said. He pulled out a pocket sized notebook he'd filched from one of the shops and offered it to her. "I've been working on a crude map of the town. The cottages are are marked military style, with American designations. RiffRaff, she's another prisoner, suggested this was MI6's doing, but everything smacks of Americans, not the British. The Commissioner uses American grammar and spellings."

Why was he telling her all this? Because she practically reeked of either law enforcement or military experience. Which meant telling her this and showing her his map was going to save her a lot of trouble and walking about that she oughtn't be doing in this heat in her condition.

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[info]yourdefender
2010-03-08 08:09 am UTC (link)
Drina accepted the small notebook that he offered, her eyes taking in every little detail about the notebook, right down to the color of the cover that had been flipped back. This was a habit hard to break herself from considering how long she had been a part of law enforcement and it hardwired into her workings even moreso since she had been a special agent. He said the name 'RiffRaff,' and Drina thought that he was using a codename for someone, but she didn't inquire about it.

"So, you're suggesting that our captor is an American." She was being blunt about it, but she didn't necessarily believe that he was wrong. She knew that her government was capable of extraordinary things, even if those things were not to be shared with its own citizens. She studied the map for a few moments more before she returned the notebook to him. "Let's get going."

She began walking in the direction of the pub, and she figured that Cathair would follow her so he could show her the way. He seemed like he was a compassionate person, and for the time being, he was in her good books. But that didn't mean that she trusted him completely. She would be wary of anyone she met here. In the back of her mind she thought that it was a bit odd that Delaney was so forthcoming with all of this information, but she didn't stop to ponder that. "What exactly did you do before you ended up here, Mr. Delaney?"

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[info]dian_cecht
2010-03-08 08:24 am UTC (link)
Riffraff was the name he'd been given and with the sort Riffraff was, that was likely all he was going to get. With some people, you didn't press for fiddly details. Besides, with no access to outside networks, there was no way of making use of names anyways.

"From everything I've seen, I'd almost wager money on it," he admitted. "American military designations, the Commissioner's note. So far, it's looking like at least he's American." He nodded and set off towards the pub in question, keeping pace with her.

He had no reason not to be forthcoming. In this case, he had nothing to hide from other prisoners here and if they were plants, they'd already know. If this were some sort of twisted social experiment, he was going to do his bloody level best to keep it from going down the 'Lord of the Flies' path.

"Cathair or Cath is fine, Mrs. Perez," he replied nearly automatically. Of course, just because he'd given her permission to use his first name didn't mean he assumed the same familiarity with her. More of his old fashioned upbringing. "I'm a book keeper. I've a shop in a small town in Massachusetts. And you?"

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[info]yourdefender
2010-03-08 08:48 am UTC (link)
More than anything, Drina wanted to escape from this place, but according to the message that she read when she first woke that morning, any escape would lead to the harming of a fellow captive. She had no clue who else was here, but she couldn't find it in herself to openly escape just to test the waters and see if one of them would be injured because of her disobedience. So it appeared she was stuck here. For the time being, at any rate. She would escape. Once she found a weakness in the security or the actual island, she would take a chance to escape.

"Cathair, then. And Mrs. Perez is my mother, so just stick to Drina," She thought of her mother; wouldn't Suelita be worried once she didn't get her weekly phone call from her daughter? And what about Heath? What would he do when he came home to find no sign of his pregnant wife? Rationally, she thought that the first thing he would do would be to check for her phone and belongings, and then to call her mother. The next step would be the office and the police station. Surely then, there would be an ongoing search that wouldn't end until she was found. Surely.

"Police officer," Drina decided to water down her occupation just in case; he didn't need to know she worked for the FBI. "I think I said it earlier, but I was getting ready to start my maternity leave. The plan was to switch over and become a District Attorney once the baby started school, but instead I woke up on an island talking to an Irishman." The statement had a tone of good humor, but she was quite worried about why she was here.

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[info]dian_cecht
2010-03-08 09:07 am UTC (link)
Cathair wasn't too keen on sticking around to find out just what this whole mess was about either. But the threat of someone else being punished for any half baked escape attempts he might make made him desire to calculate a mass, all or nothing effort, involving as many of the prisoners as possible.

He chuckled. "And Mr. Delaney is my father," he shot back wryly. "Drina, then. Pretty name. Is it short for something?" He knew very little about Hispanic or Spanish names, having not had much contact with anyone with either. As for anybody missing him, that wasn't likely. He'd purposely isolated himself most of his adult life, to keep his identities completely separated. His father wouldn't think twice if he didn't call for months, since he might have been found out and had to disappear without warning. In truth, no one would likely miss him period if he never escaped. Which wasn't a cheery bloody thought, and definitely not one to linger on now.

"I thought so," he mused aloud. "You've the whole law enforcement bit going on." And it only reinforced his theory that the powers that be here were well aware of his past and abilities. A computer hacker, a police officer and a former RIRA member. Maybe Riffraff was right and they had been snatched for some sort of government scheme.

Cathair chuckled again. "Well, if you need a change of pace, you can go bother the English computer expert who's likely elbows deep in making her battle bots, but I'd not suggest it unless you get really bored." He had a feeling disturbing Riffraff at work was at least hazardous.

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[info]yourdefender
2010-03-09 07:55 pm UTC (link)
Drina couldn't really stifle a laugh when he fired back with a bit of wit. "Touche, then Cath." She smiled softly to herself when he mentioned her own name; his words reminded her of Heath and what he had said to her when they first met. "No, it's not short for anything. My mother has a very romantic view of life sometimes and so my name reflects it." She was certain that if he knew her full name that his eyes would widen in confusion: sometimes Hispanic women had very long names. But, no one had used her full name since the day she found her invitation into the FBI. And that had certainly caught her off guard.

An eyebrow quirked. "Am I that obvious? I thought maybe I was a bit more under the radar than that," she joked. She wasn't turning off her "duty," but if she were to constantly run in "finding answers" mode she would go crazy. And the truth was, she was really starting to get hungry and it was very difficult to think properly on an empty stomach.

"I'll be sure to keep that in mind," for a moment she didn't know if he was joking or if he was serious, but she decided on the latter. "So is that all the people you've seen here? Just me and this battle bot building computer hacker?" She wondered just how many people were here and what they did before they were brought here. She didn't see any connection yet, but maybe after talking to everyone there would be one easy to find. She kind of doubted finding a connection between a FBI Special Agent, a computer hacker, and a bookstore owner, though.

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[info]dian_cecht
2010-03-09 09:38 pm UTC (link)
He smiled as she laughed at his comeback. Cath couldn't help but think she was rather lovely when she smiled. It was his turn to chuckle when she explained her name. "Sounds like mine," he admitted. "She's the one who named me. Cathair means 'battle man' in Irish Gaelic. My dad always got wound up by his friends that I'd been poorly named, since I was rather quiet and bookish as a boy."

Cathair nodded, stifling a grin. "'Fraid so," he admitted. "Although since you're not cursing and waving a nightstick in my face for stopping someplace on the street too long, I'll have to say you remind me of American police, not Irish police." Cath disliked the British run Irish police force on principal, let alone how biased they were against Catholics and nationalists especially. Even the ones who didn't make trouble. "More I've had too much experience with the pushy sort. Belfast is a rougher place than most people realize."

"I'm sure she'll be nicer to you than me, considering," he pointed out. Really, horrible social skills aside, Riffraff didn't come off as the really dangerously loony sort. Just a shut-in who preferred machines to people. He'd worked with both types and was fairly good at telling them apart. "Yes, although I've only been at this an hour or two. There was no one at the pub when I was eating, but I'm wagering there's more than just us here."

Cathair was seeing a possible connection, from what he knew, but it still didn't make sense.

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[info]yourdefender
2010-03-10 08:05 pm UTC (link)
"Battle man?" Drina didn't mean to scoff. "I think I'll agree with your father's friends on that one; I doubt that it suits a clerk at a bookstore," Of course, if Drina only knew what her very own name meant, she wouldn't be so quick to judge. Drina meant "defender of mankind" in Spanish; funny enough that she would go on to do everything in her power to defend those who could not defend themselves.

"I'm shocked. I thought anyone who lived outside of the States considered us a bunch of selfish, corrupt, assholes." The laugh that followed was light and airy, she called herself an American even though she was a native Mexican. She had a US citizenship and everything, but she hated the prejudice that came along with saying 'Yes, I am from Mexico.' Too many people had thrown racial slurs her way during her lifetime. Funny, they all seemed to be people she had arrested. "Anyways, I think nightsticks are just for show. I think I can manage to get my point across without the use of a nightstick." Drina's temper was an incredibly short one, and more often than not, when she had been your run-of-the-mill police officer, she would let it get the best of her and her fists would do the talking. She had been suspended twice for those actions.


She nodded. "I think you're right. There would have to be several more here for the threat of injuring others sway us. I'm sure once we found out that there was only two or three, people, we would be able to convince everyone to try to escape. At least, it'd be easier than trying to convince fifteen people."

"I don't think that whoever brought us here is content with letting us use their facilities and eat their food without some sort of payment. Whether it's monetary or not, there's a reason why we're here, and we need to find out what it is. It's not just some vacation resort, otherwise we'd be able to leave whenever we wanted to." She spoke partially to herself; thinking aloud seemed to help sort out the 'need to know' and 'already know.'

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[info]dian_cecht
2010-03-10 08:36 pm UTC (link)
Cath chuckled. "Well, I'm actually a military historian, but never did much with my degree," he admitted. "In end, it was more Mum's fancy than anything else."

He scoffed at her description of Americans. "No, I've seen corrupt assholes," he told her. "That would be Irish police. American police are much more polite. Especially if you're not doing anything wrong. The one who gave me a parking warning last week was rather cordial really. She explained I'd parked my car on the wrong side of the street. Again." He was admittedly still getting used to driving on the wrong side of the road on the wrong side of the car.

She'd also given him her card, with the suggestion she'd be happy to give him some American driving lessons. He purposely misplaced it, since he'd decided long ago he couldn't involve any woman in his life. Before he'd led a complicated double life. Now he was on the lam and if he were found out either way, anyone involved with him would be in danger.

"But that's going to have to be how it is," he pointed out. "With the conditions given, no one can be left behind, or they'll take the punishment for the rest of us." Which he'd not stand for. He'd done a lot of horrible things in his life, but he'd be damned if anyone else would be punished for his actions.

"Oh they'll take payment," Cathair agreed grimly. "And likely, it'll be more than we're willing to pay." Which wasn't really helping right now. "Where did you want to go first? The pub, the hardware shop or the Druggist for some suncreme?" He was already starting to get pink in the ears and nose, and that had been added to his list of stops. The last thing he needed to deal with was a painful sunburn.

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[info]yourdefender
2010-03-12 05:59 am UTC (link)
Drina nodded her head in understanding. "Aaah, I see. And I thought that New York cops were bad." She listened to his description of a recent encounter with a police woman and she found herself almost amused. "Sounds to me, Cathair, that she found you rather adorable. Then again, most American women find themselves weak in the knees whenever an accent is shot there way. Particularly an English or Irish one."

"You're absolutely right." Drina was wild and she was brash. Two years ago, she would have tried to escape that very night. However, she was trapped within the circumstances; she was pregnant and could not, would not jeopardize the well-being of her child. Also, for all she knew, there were children on the island. What if there were others on the island that were not allowed to wander around like her or Cathair? What if they were trapped somewhere as an insurance policy?

She was afraid of that. And the fact that he was so right, even though his statement was rather cryptic, scared her even more. What if they tried to do something to her baby? The thought of harm being delivered to her child sent shivers down her spine; she knew without a doubt that she would enter a blind rage and would probably kill anyone in her way.

"We can stop by the pharmacy first, if you want," Drina was quite used to the sun, having lived most of her life in Texas. However, this was tropical heat and it was quite humid compared to the dry heat of Texas. "Then head on to the pub?" She felt her stomach rumble a bit in hunger. "Unless we're being poisoned, I think fashioning a weapon can wait just a bit."

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[info]dian_cecht
2010-03-12 06:17 am UTC (link)
"I've heard about them," he admitted. "I imagine they're related, considering the number of Irish that immigrated to that area of America." He chuckled softly and shrugged. "Yes, I've noticed. One of the more forward ones kept asking me questions about books, apparently just to keep me talking, she told me after awhile." It was amusing to say the least.

Cathair was hoping their captors weren't that devious. If there were prisoners they couldn't take with them, that would just make things more difficult. He didn't want to think there would be children involved, but with Drina's presence, there already was one child involved. Which led him to believe, if anything, their captors had no morals at all. That was a disturbing enough reality right there.

He nodded. "Might as well," he said. "I'd prefer not to end up looking like an overcooked lobster." Cath shook his head. "I ate over an hour ago and so far, the only thing I'm remembering is that yank food really isn't that filling. At least what you lot call breakfast."

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[info]yourdefender
2010-03-13 08:01 pm UTC (link)
Drina giggled slightly, "I believe it. The only accent that doesn't hold attraction for Americans is a Hispanic one. Trust me." It was sad, considering that Spanish was one of the so-called Romantic languages. Anymore, for an American to find any allure in the language, they would have to actually be in Spain. Of course, nowadays, anyone from Mexico was expected to learn English as soon as they moved into the United States (if not before), and those - like her mother - who didn't, were given harsh looks and words, even if they were legal immigrants. That was one thing that always made Drina's blood boil, and something that she always wanted to change.

She grinned a bit at his lobster remark. "I can't say that it would do you much good. I don't think that your accent would save you if you tried to hit on an American girl while we're here." She hoped that they could find a way to escape before much longer; in just a matter of months, she would be giving birth, and there was no way in hell that she was going to have her baby on this godforsaken island.

"Hey, I could show you a Mexican breakfast and then you'd be so full you wouldn't be able to move." She remembered how her mother would always rise with the sun to prepare their breakfast. There was so much food that she would even take some to their neighbors who lived a floor above.

The journey to the drug store did not take quite as long as Drina had thought that it would. But once they arrived, she stepped inside, the bell at the door jingling softly. The store was deserted. "Does no one work here?" She inquired. "For an island that is wanting us to stay, they're sure making it easy for looters."

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[info]dian_cecht
2010-03-13 09:31 pm UTC (link)
Yes, he'd already picked up on the derisive attitude Americans had towards their neighbours to the south. He personally thought it was rubbish, the Mexican lads who he'd hired to help him put up shop were hardworking and industrious as anyone he'd ever seen. Plus, they were Catholic, which was always a plus in Cathair's opinion. "It's rubbish," he assured her.

Cath scoffed at the idea of him trying to chat up anybody on this island. "Least of my worries, colleen," he assured her. He didn't chat up women in his normal life, he wasn't about to take up the habit now.

As for a big breakfast. "That doesn't sound so bad," he admitted. "I've never had Mexican food period, as I doubt the stuff from Taco Bell even remotely counts." Unless it was cooked properly by someone from the country who knew how to do it, it didn't count.

It was like American 'Irish' pubs. Far too clean and well lit and they served all sorts of drink that you'd never find a proper Irish pub. And they weren't any hooligans watching sport and making enough noise to drop the roof.

He nodded at her question, trying to figure out where they'd keep the suncreme in this sort of druggist's shop. "Hardware shop was the same," he admitted. "I doubt they're worried about vandals, considering they've left the doors open and not locked up anything."

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