Logan Malone
Logan listened to the brief, ankle of his left leg resting upon his right knee, his hands folded, index fingers pressed together and resting at his lips in thought. As a person with an affinity for 'vehicles', something about the description of the job struck him as... odd.
"Seein' as you're talkin' like someone allergic to the word 'car', I take it we're not just bein' asked to repo some exec's prized classic Impala or somethin', then? I think it'd help if we knew what we're tryin' to get back. After all, we'll find out eventually, won't we?"
His voice has a bit of an accented drawl, common to those contraband runners and nomads of the Outlands.