The guy doesn't ring the card against his cash register..rather he brings out his own card..types some things on both<em> (ooh..it actually /is/ a display / touch pad on the front of the card)</em>and then hands it back..doing a person-person transfer.<br/><br/>"Hey..of course you two have been here." he motions to the back door. "Don't break any shit back there..that's all"<br/><br/>The backroom looks..well..sparse.. alittle disorganized.  It's mostly filled up of racks of boxes, all of them labelled.. and around the bases of the racks are open boxes filled with empty cartons, broken music chips and the like.  There is a larger door that has deadbolts on it.. like a loading dock-door.. and even a small couch by a small table with some sortof device on it..reminiscent of a coffee machine.<br/><br/>Jill comes in with you..nodding..doing her damdest to stop crying.. "I'm...scared" she admits.. "Why are we running..you are the one that was shot.." her hand reaches down..touching gingerly where your outfit is all frayed.