Al followed the local snow and hockey conversation as best he could, those being two topics that interested him less than not at all. He was made for hot climes, and was much more of an urban brawl/combat biker man, at least when there wasn’t any pro wrestling on the trid.

The food was good, and he complimented the waitress – again in French – when she passed by to refill their coffees. He continued conversing with his host and the other language in whichever language they seemed most comfortable with.

His host was named Grahame, and he was a heavyset guy, medium height, with a lot of whiskery skin dangling loose from his chin and jaw. It was funny because the rest of his skin was stretched taut by the fat beneath. Too much poutine, probably. Nice guy, though. Appreciated good engine work, and clearly liked his beer.

Al followed the poutine with scones and jam, commenting quietly so as that the waitress wouldn’t hear – “Good jam, but not what I’m lookin’ for. One reason I’m up in these parts, an aunt o’ mine sent me some raspberry jam last year, said she bought it around here. Wanted some more, but her memory ain’t what it was. An’ me bein’ a gentleman o’ leisure, thought I’d come pokin’ around….”

The gentleman of leisure thing had ended up being a good segueway into the conversation about ice sculpture, which Al thought sounded like the sort of time wastage that only people with way too much leisure time could hope to indulge in. But it tied into the job – he would much rather be chasing toxic freaks and killing them, but this was work, and the lead was falling into his lap.

“So Grahame, this ice sculpture business, they do any nekkid womern. Or leastways a big-tittied mermaid or somethin’?”

“Well, they try to keep it family friendly, which still means something up here,” his host had answered, eliciting nods from some other locals. “But it’s still worth a look. With the icing such as it is, they should be getting started soon. I can take you around for a peek if you like.”

“Yes Grahame, mi amigo. I would like. Thank ye kindly. Jist gotta hit the head first.”

Al excused himself, did his business, and then took the opportunity to quietly catch up on what the rest of the team was up to. He reviewed the footage of the cabin that Becky had sent, taking special interest in the tracks in the snow. Then he listened for a few seconds as the team explosively slaughtered some security people. Well, they were probably the evil and corrupt kind, so it must be okay. Now they were busy trying to catch one alive or something, so he decided he didn’t need to bother them about his ice sculpture tour – if they needed him they’d call.

“Alrighty then, kemo sabe, let’s take us in some ice!”