"A phone," Darren astutely pointed out. A slim, black Motorola Razor sat neatly off-center on the table, proudly presented by Alan as if it had some sort of shared meaning between them. But if Darren was honest, he wasn't sure when the last time he saw a Motorola Razor was, or why in God's name it could be important. But the fact of the matter was, if Alan said it was important, then there was some shit on there that wasn't supposed to be seen. "But yeah, I'd be down. Where at?"<br/><br/>After giving it a thorough once-over, Darren took the proffered phone, sliding it further toward himself and spinning it on the table. His thumb idly pushed back on the phone's battery cover as he looked to Alan for an answer. The other man had probably already done this, and then done it again to be sure, but it was a perpetual habit of Darren's to find himself taking the battery out of the phone and checking for taps or anything else that shouldn't quite be there. Once he'd satisfied his own curiosity, Darren plugged the battery back into its slot and pushed the cover back into place. The phone was fine, which was great because it had opened up another, newer curiosity: the contents of the phone, and why it had opened Alan up to some solid deal of cash.<br/><br/>As if on some sort of queue of inconvenience, Cathy made her return, placing two chilled beers on the table in front of them, laying Darren's ID down next to his drink. She made sure to tell them to let her know if they needed anything, and then again before she finally left. When she finally did make her departure, Darren sat the phone away from the small pool of condensation that had formed a ring on the table around his beer.  "So what's on it?"