From his perch atop a ladder, where he sat idly scratching an insect bite on his elbow, Brian spotted the kid when he entered the store. The non-verbals screamed for an employee’s attention in all the wrong ways: hyper-vigilant of his surroundings, aimless meandering, shoulders a few inches too high. It also happened that the kid was blacklisted from shopping in Tracks thanks to a long history of petty theft. It was almost impossible to enforce with a rotating line-up of cashiers, but Brian remembered him. The brunette’s distraction gave him a unique opportunity. He hopped off the ladder and rounded the corner behind the kid.

“No, but I do.” Brian hooked his arm loosely around the boy’s head. He smiled and gave him a noogie. “This is my buddy Troy. We’ve met before. It was Night Ranger that time. What’s he got?”