"Hey brochacho, mind coming with me to deliver? The customers are starting to complain." Argyle asks you, half baked as usual, his eyes red and droopy as he smiles at you. It makes sense, whenever he delivers he usually just zones out for a couple seconds on the customer's doorstep, while you always manage to get nice tips. Why not? So you hop into the pizza delivery van with him, wrinkling your nose at the strong smell off weed. "Sorry, man, I took my break earlier." He says with a laugh, rolling down the window for you.