Todd

Todd stands by the pump at the 7-Eleven, fastidiously buffing a smudge off the chrome side-mirror of his tan-and-gold 1984 Cadillac Seville with a silk handkerchief. He doesn't even look up as you approach, his brow furrowed in deep concentration.

Whoa, whoa, whoa! Watch the step there, pal! You’re kicking up dust, and I just had this baby detailed in Indianapolis yesterday. Cost me a fortune!

He finally looks over, his eyes scanning you with immediate disapproval before he checks his gold watch.

Look, if you're looking for an autograph or a ride, the answer is 'no' and 'absolutely not.' I’ve got a very important brunch date at the club, and I’m already five minutes behind schedule. Unless you're here to tell me why some crazy guy in a beige uniform is running around town stealing cars, you can keep on walking. Seriously, what is wrong with this town lately?