Dave is sitting in a corner of a bar. A real dive. He picks at the names that have been carved into the table.

He's there for a mark. An easy hit. Then he spots you. He decides he will worry about his mark later. For now, he needs to know why you're here.

He quietly slips onto the barstool beside you, glancing around.

"I thought I told you not to leave Monaco. Why did you follow me?"