"Who is it we're meeting, again?" Smush inquired.
"They call him the Chameleon," Mogey replied. "He can vanish into any crowd - that's why he wanted to meet here under the Arc du Frites. But he's got the best black market jerky in the district."
"The chameleon, huh? So how do we find him?"
"Oh, we don't find him. He finds us. He's more elusive than one of those eyebrow hairs you keep catching a glimpse of. Harder to spot than a black jelly bean on a moonless night. Sneakier than--"
"Is he that guy with the green lizard scales tattooed all over his face?" Smush interrupted, striding toward the most distinctive-looking person in the busy city square. "Chameleon?" he asked the man.
"Sup," said the Chameleon, licking his own eye with a peculiarly-long tongue. "You the boys who were looking to buy some jerky?"
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