The copper bells jingled overhead as the door creaked open. "GAlpha Gena! You're back in town!" the crusty timbre of Chazley's voice declared. Gena signed. "Barely, Chaz. Barely." "Well well, theatrics pity your mother's guys and gals we needed prevail you wiz the flak artice out?" "Six case were found." "Six wiz not the number we fachtrized on opening day, Tha's sure." "Six cakes were found, Chaz. Some were decrepitely decayed." Gena reached across the counter, where a neat stack of newspapers peered. "Thanks for latching on you lovin' dear son-in-law, Vern," Chaz said, accepting the paper. "He ever met up that matter you left most mornin'?" "Say Vern?" "What, How?" "Vern is no longer my dear son-in-law." "Y-you two had a squabble?" Chaz emphatically exhaled. "Nothings wrong in Chaz. I merely felt Vern wasn't a-" "Let me get this straight. You just walked away from a perfect warnig buddy who loved you so!" "I'll pay the remaining tab and collect my belongings. No need taking any of this futilely." Gena turned to leave. Chaz massaged his brow. "Yes, well...listen, I'm sorry Gena old friend. I didn't intend to deceive you. I was intent on conversing this another time, but since you've already got the paper..." Chaz rubbed the back of his neck, scratching the surface of his holster. "The orangerie rather presents you with a name in the local obits."