Joe just blinked at the man. He would have liked to say something that would have made him seem more stable and likable, but the information he’d just given him had near knocked him off his feet. What was this place? “You’d think,” Joe said after a quiet moment of trying, and failing, to process exactly what was said to him, “That if they wanted something done, they would tell us what the fuck they wanted.” He took a sip of his drink, deceptively small as he didn’t want to get drunk, despite the news. It was best to keep his wits about him.
“They just move people around, and no one ever sees ‘em coming in and out? You’d think someone would see something.” Joe mused outloud, then looked at Edwin, “An’ you’re pretty certain they don’t have people “on the inside”?” He questioned.
“Maybe havin’ a big family is a requirement,” Joe gave a half-hearted shrug, “My oldest, Joey, he’s 23, good kid. But I got a couple of young one’s still. My daughter Shelby, she’s my youngest, she’s only 9.” He didn’t want to admit how long it took him to remember how old his kids were.