Pulp-fiction -

Leo pauses. Smiles. Doesn’t answer.

“No shit,” Leo says. “You stole a man’s lunch and his hobby.” pulp-fiction

Leo nods. Opens the bag. Pulls out a cheap plastic kitchen timer, a half-eaten granola bar, and a single left-handed golf glove. Leo pauses

Leo sets his cup down. “You checked the case before you left?” a half-eaten granola bar

“But the intel said—”