Unfortunately for Vince, who of course at this unbeknown interval of fateful meetings, at this apex of destiny, crux of the fork in the road of his past misdeeds, tip of the titanic's iceberg, he'd gotten to really studying the class of person he was keeping company with today. Gauging not only his 'usefulness', but also the circumference of his intentions and his heart. He liked people with heart. Who were true, who weren't fake, who didn't pump sunshine up his ass. Seemed his company, who he was faintly becoming endeared to not out of pity, but out of having heart himself, was a genus of good he was glad to have met. Thus, as he watched him in a detached but in engaged way transfer himself effortlessly, routinely, from car to wheels, he grew a notch more curious what had befell him to make him so...
"Let's get this show on the road then," he'd grinned, tip of his tongue at the nip of a canine lingering. "Fake-ass New York city is our first stop."
There was a 'Central Perk' mock which held the contents of the buffet, at the end of a long row of trailers, filming for various T.V. shows, or being outfitted for movies. Each sound stage listed the popular movies that had been filmed inside of it. Though, you'd have to get up close to read the placards. Lots of people were out and about, but before he was going to turn the corner into a crowd that clogged up the path to the mock-city, a tour cart drove around the corner. Vince hurriedly took out his cell phone and hustled closer to Billy.
"Hurry, take your phone out! They'll think you're super important and in cognito. Though maybe they'll recognize Mr. Rockstarrrrr." He flicked his sunglasses out of his pocket, putting them on just as hastily. And he proceeded to pretend he was on his phone.
Would someone recognize Mr. Billy on the tourist cart? There were people the appropriate age...