You acknowledge that you’re not the most normal of detectives. The lifestyle you’d developed had been mostly accidental; you hadn’t intended to start attending back-room meetings at the bars, or follow the gambling track, or learn the gang handshakes. If Sleuth had asked, you’d cover with some discussion of how your knowledge would help any future investigations, but you’d developed a liking for these meetings. There was such a real, genuine excitement, even over the most mundane things, and there was an interest in so many things. There were demolition experts, electronics students, those with a specific ability to read and examine building plans, and some unique specimens who simply had good people skills.
Surprises in your line of work are never good surprises. Either someone’s betrayed you to another gang, or something’s gone wrong with your suppliers, or some part of the city’s just gone up in flames and you’ll have to remember exactly which forged documents are missing. It’s never easy. And Slick never seems to care, which is normal for him, but just once, you’d appreciate a chance to complain without being ignored.