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Ain't you about freeze to death, Pony?
What do they want? This is our territory. What are the Socs doing far east?
I started to say something about the film of ice developing on the outer edges of the fountain when a sudden blast from a car horn made us both jump. The blue Mustang was circling the park slowly.
I don't know. But I bet they're looking for us. We picked up their girls.
Oh, glory, this is all I need to top off a perfect night. Want to run for it?
It's too late now. Here they come.
Hey watta ya know? Here's the little greasers that picked up our girls. Hey, greasers.
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