The gesture earns a short stare, not of shock or apprehension, but of irritation. Local law enforcement has been on Norma's property since she bought the place-- suspicions of missing people, public disturbances, and other matters that are of no one's business without substantial proof. This guy, as far as he's concerned, is another dog following a scent and will just have to be tolerated through the proper motions.
"Yeah. Shoot. Or should I put this stuff away first?"
Because he's not about to let some food go bad for the sake of some random questioning.
Nice credentials. No thanks, we don't want any. Please take me off your list.
While he doesn't like the idea of going into the house on his own, not knowing if there are more than just his mother and brother there, Ressler nods, motioning for Dylan to lead the way. He'll just have to stay on his toes, make sure no funny business happens. If Dylan is a part of this drug business going on here, who knows what he could do. FBI is serious shit after all.
"Sure your mother would appreciate the food not spoiling on my account." After all, she'd seemed nice enough when he'd checked in. Appearances and all. Badge going back inside his jacket, he follows Dylan, deciding to just get right to the point.
"We've gotten some leads about a big time drug ring going on around these parts. Lotta names came up when we questioned people, yours was one of them." He doesn't let his tone get accusatory yet, just laying out the facts right now, giving Dylan just enough to let him know this could be serious.
This guy doesn't know anything, contrary to whatever his sales technique might be.
Some leads doesn't sound like any kind of promise, so Dylan walks on without looking back as Agent Ressler proceeds to explain his intent. Stopping or looking back just gives him more fuel, he figures, he proceeds as normal, switching one bag to another hand for the sake of balancing weight as the steepness of the driveway increases.
"I'm from out of town. A lot of people are born and raised here-- don't like outsiders. They get bored and make up stories to make their boring lives seem more colorful."
Setting the bags down near the steps of the porch, Dylan stops, indicating that the agent isn't welcome another step further. There's enough drama in the house already and he's not about to bring his own through the threshold, especially from the likes of the FBI.
"Look, man-- sir," he corrects himself lazily, "I'd love to help you out, but I don't know anything about what you're talking about. Whoever you talked to gave you a bad tip."
Dylan wasn't wrong, they didn't know much. Mostly had a laundry list of names that COULD be associated with the hankie pankie drug business going ons. They knew something was going on in this area, just no real solid leads. It was pretty aggravating.
When the guy blocks him from getting up onto the porch, from coming inside, a brow goes up some what. Is he really going to be difficult about this? Mouth setting into a line his hands rest on his hips as he looks up at Dylan.
"Talked to a lot of people. You're saying that the multiple people who pointed fingers at you just dislike you for being an outsider?" He doesn't believe it. There is something here, may not be much, but he's sure he can get something out of him.
"What about Gil Turner? People can place you both together, say he's got some solid connections to the drug business here." Of course just being acquaintances or friends with a possible drug dealer doesn't make Dylan involved, but it does raise questions.
While he might not always be wholly welcome in the household, Dylan considers his mother and his brother as a responsibility. Contrary to both of their insistences that they do well enough on their own, Dylan has found that keeping an eye on the two of them, even from the outside, has never harmed anything. He doesn't need reciprocation for this principle. This is his mess and he can clean it up himself.
"He owns a lot of business in town, that's about all I know," he shrugs his shoulders, observing Ressler's posture for any changes in confidence or intent, " I couldn't tell you anything about specifics."
Not even the giant pot fields on the outskirts of town, the ones he's paid hourly to watch, nor does he count driving down to northern California to pick up crews to process the plants once they're harvested. If he's being honest, most of that is a blur anyway in the scheme of things. It's routine, and definitely not the darkest aspect of the town.
"Must be a lot of work, doing an investigating like this by yourself. Talking to a lot of people and all."
The only thing Ressler will give Dylan is the tight expression on his face, frustrated. This guy really isn't going to give him anything at all. The barest of information that validates what Ressler has heard, but in a way that makes Dylan look innocent and ignorant of things going on. Of course.
It's the last bit that gets to him though. Like Dylan is mocking him. Or maybe he's just taking it way too personally. He's been working this for a while now, getting a whole lot of nothing. No one wanted to really talk beyond finger pointing, which got him no where without any solid leads. He couldn't just kick in doors without SOME evidence.
"Mind giving me the names of all the businesses he runs?" Just going to brush over things he doesn't want to answer. He can play that game too.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
"Yeah. Shoot. Or should I put this stuff away first?"
Because he's not about to let some food go bad for the sake of some random questioning.
Nice credentials. No thanks, we don't want any. Please take me off your list.
no subject
"Sure your mother would appreciate the food not spoiling on my account." After all, she'd seemed nice enough when he'd checked in. Appearances and all. Badge going back inside his jacket, he follows Dylan, deciding to just get right to the point.
"We've gotten some leads about a big time drug ring going on around these parts. Lotta names came up when we questioned people, yours was one of them." He doesn't let his tone get accusatory yet, just laying out the facts right now, giving Dylan just enough to let him know this could be serious.
"Wanna tell me why that'd be?"
no subject
This guy doesn't know anything, contrary to whatever his sales technique might be.
Some leads doesn't sound like any kind of promise, so Dylan walks on without looking back as Agent Ressler proceeds to explain his intent. Stopping or looking back just gives him more fuel, he figures, he proceeds as normal, switching one bag to another hand for the sake of balancing weight as the steepness of the driveway increases.
"I'm from out of town. A lot of people are born and raised here-- don't like outsiders. They get bored and make up stories to make their boring lives seem more colorful."
Setting the bags down near the steps of the porch, Dylan stops, indicating that the agent isn't welcome another step further. There's enough drama in the house already and he's not about to bring his own through the threshold, especially from the likes of the FBI.
"Look, man-- sir," he corrects himself lazily, "I'd love to help you out, but I don't know anything about what you're talking about. Whoever you talked to gave you a bad tip."
no subject
When the guy blocks him from getting up onto the porch, from coming inside, a brow goes up some what. Is he really going to be difficult about this? Mouth setting into a line his hands rest on his hips as he looks up at Dylan.
"Talked to a lot of people. You're saying that the multiple people who pointed fingers at you just dislike you for being an outsider?" He doesn't believe it. There is something here, may not be much, but he's sure he can get something out of him.
"What about Gil Turner? People can place you both together, say he's got some solid connections to the drug business here." Of course just being acquaintances or friends with a possible drug dealer doesn't make Dylan involved, but it does raise questions.
a+ use of "hankie pankie"
While he might not always be wholly welcome in the household, Dylan considers his mother and his brother as a responsibility. Contrary to both of their insistences that they do well enough on their own, Dylan has found that keeping an eye on the two of them, even from the outside, has never harmed anything. He doesn't need reciprocation for this principle. This is his mess and he can clean it up himself.
"He owns a lot of business in town, that's about all I know," he shrugs his shoulders, observing Ressler's posture for any changes in confidence or intent, " I couldn't tell you anything about specifics."
Not even the giant pot fields on the outskirts of town, the ones he's paid hourly to watch, nor does he count driving down to northern California to pick up crews to process the plants once they're harvested. If he's being honest, most of that is a blur anyway in the scheme of things. It's routine, and definitely not the darkest aspect of the town.
"Must be a lot of work, doing an investigating like this by yourself. Talking to a lot of people and all."
/bows
It's the last bit that gets to him though. Like Dylan is mocking him. Or maybe he's just taking it way too personally. He's been working this for a while now, getting a whole lot of nothing. No one wanted to really talk beyond finger pointing, which got him no where without any solid leads. He couldn't just kick in doors without SOME evidence.
"Mind giving me the names of all the businesses he runs?" Just going to brush over things he doesn't want to answer. He can play that game too.