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<span>Spoiler: <span class="bbCodeSpoiler-button-title">Aaron 'Grunt' Blackburn</span></span>
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</div></div><br/>It happened to everyone every once in awhile; that moment you walk into a room and feel that everything went so silent that it felt like even the air left the room. That's how the shop felt when Jamie walked back through the door announcing lunch. Tonto sat over at his station with his gear in process of preparation along with two other men. One was a new face in a familiar vest; the Roadkill Jokers, and the other was Dirty Dale. They were all looking at Jamie when he walked in and there was that awkward half a second while Dirty Dale erupted into conversation that was very obviously a change of topic. "New kid's still here, huh? You haven't scared the fuck out of him with your crazy bullshit, Tonto?"<br/><br/>Tonto rolled his, he was, in fact, one of the few men who could do so to Dirty Dale. Dale laughed. "Hey kid! You busy? Aside from lunch? What're ya doing? Keeping Tonts from his turkey? You're liable to get scalped for that, you know." He laughed a gruff laugh. Sure his comments were all sort of not politically correct, but no one cared about that; especially not Dirty Dale. "I gotta talk to the man here, upstairs."<br/><br/>There was a small loft like single room apartment on the second floor of the two story shop building and it came with the shop rent. No one lived in it as a home, but everyone from the shop used it from time to time for whatever they felt like using it for. Naps, meetings, quickies, or a crash place after being at the bars all night. If Dirty Dale wanted to go upstairs, it usually meant there was something under the table going on. While Tonto seemed annoyed that it interrupted his lunch, his prep time, and would possibly make him late for greeting his friend, he none-the-less nodded over to Jamie.<br/><br/>"Watch everything. If Portland comes in, don't be a twat and embarrass me. You got walk-ins." He grabbed his wrapped lunch out of the bag that Jamie had brought and headed upstairs with Dirt Dale in tow. The Joker he'd come with remained downstairs and casually walked the shop floor looking at the flash on the walls and smattering of photos of satisfied customers on the wall. He was tall and broad with a strip of blond hair flopped over down the center of his head that clashed with the peach fuzzy shortness of the rest of it and the thick full beard that covered his cheeks and chin. His ringed fingers stuffed into the back pockets of his worn jeans were the only relaxed thing about his otherwise quiet and stoic demeanor. With Rusty gone, R.I.P., and Dirty Dale on the premises, it could only mean that this was 'Grunt'; the lucky guy who now ran right hand for Dirty Dale Kovak.