Duck doesn't tend to go to the mechanic's shop too often- all things considered, nobody in town does much driving. But it's the Game Warden transport truck that Duck keeps in working order, and it's that very truck he's noticed pulling to the left in a particularly nasty fashion, and if that's not fixed, well, it could be out of commission the next time somebody fells a bear- and Duck isn't particularly interested in field stripping an animal that large. "Ey Matt!" He bellows, turning off the engine and disembarking the driver's side, heavy, polished combat boots thumping hard onto concrete. "Got somethin' for you to do today that ain't gettin' oogled by my brother."
Duck's perhaps uncharacteristically sober and... pleasant, today, the Game Warden's usual semi-permanent scowl gone for a somewhat lopsided but still present grin. Whatever's going on, even his truck giving him troubles doesn't seem like it can sour his mood. "Truck's startin' to jerk to the left. I'm not quite sure what's going on but it's pretty harsh even on the one solid stretch of road through town, so I ain't exactly eager to go careening into a tree when they need me to haul a kill outta the woods." He unshoulders his backpack, producing a few rolls of leather and a pelt blanket. "Ain't got much meat to trade off, but I've still got some workable shit, an' a blanket Wren made up that we don't need- keep it, trade it, but I'm givin' it all to ya if you can make ol' faithful over there do her due diligence again."
@wanderinglcst