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|Tools of the Trade|
Help Lance recover his tools.
Connor found Lance making a wooden chair, in need of assistance.
Connor walked up to Lance.
- Lance: Got a moment, Connor?
I don't mean to be a bother, but I wanted to ask you something. When my cart went up in flames I lost most of my tools. I've got some spares back at my shop in Boston but as you know, I'm not really welcome around there. I thought- if it wasn't too much trouble- you could help me retrieve them?
- Connor: What would you have me do?
- Lance: Watch my back while I gather them. Meet me in Boston at my old shop.
Connor traveled to Boston and met Lance near his old shop.
- Lance: Connor! Good to see you.
Connor escorted Lance to his shop.
- Lance: Been trying to avoid eye contact with my old neighbors, so far so good. Not so worried now you're here.
- Connor: How are you doing otherwise?
- Lance: Oh, alright I suppose. Things never really go as planned...but that's life.
- Connor: Really, how do you mean?
- Lance: You know, you make a plan and it all goes awry and nothing gets better, only slightly different.
- Connor: Sounds like you have had a string of misfortune. It will pass.
Connor and Lance arrived at the old shop and found a man sweeping outside.
- Lance: What are you doing here?
- Shop owner: Sweeping my steps if it please you.
- Lance: Since when are these your steps?
- Shop owner: Since I bought them three weeks ago.
- Lance: From who?
- Shop owner: The owner. Via his apprentice. Owner shipped off outta town, what's it to you?
- Lance: I AM THE OWNER!
- Shop owner: Not anymore, mate. Sorry. Better sort things out with your apprentice. He's often at the pub over there but I'm sure you already knew that.
- Lance: Patrick!
Connor and Lance walked to the pub.
- Patrick: Lance.
- Lance: Patrick! What gave you the right to sell my shop?!
- Patrick: Well you were run outta town. I thought you'd never come back so I sold it all- the shop, the tools. It's rough luck. Anyway, it's been great chatting but I must be off. Have a nice life.
- Lance: What rot. Tools are a woodworker's lifeblood, he'd never sell them. I bet he's got them stashed somewhere.
- Connor: Then we follow him.
Connor and Lance tailed Patrick back to where he hid the tools.
- Patrick: I'll load these in the cart come night fall and be in New York free of this rubbish for good before the month is out.
Connor and Lance opened the crate with Lance's tools.
- Lance: Well that's something at least. Thank you. I still can't believe he sold my shop. I'll see you back to the homestead.
Connor helped Lance retrieve his tools.