Roscoe lives out of his van, so you start by getting his phone number from Elton and sending a text. He responds a few hours later:
roscoe_music At the airport come say hello
Northampton's little airport is a ten-minute walk from your cabin. At night, you can sit on your roof and watch the Cessnas and Pipers take off and land. You follow a walking path under the highway just as a single-engine plane takes off, and soon spot a rusted van parked on the grass. Roscoe Thanh is nearby on the tarmac with a boom mike and hearing protection. You circle around so you don't startle him.
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"You're Matulo," he shouts. Then he realizes he's still wearing earmuffs; he peels them off, stuffs the boom mike under his elbow, and shakes your hand. "It's good to meet you." Roscoe is a tall, lean Vietnamese man in his sixties, with a face lined and leathery from a lifetime outdoors. His long hair is gray, but he moves with the quick step of a much younger man. He waves you toward his van, opens the back, and starts stowing his equipment. The rusted hulk is much more impressive on the inside, with high-end audio mixing equipment lining both interior walls.
"What are you up to here?" It's always interesting to see what mostly-normal people get up to.
"Hey, are you looking for an assistant?" Because this looks like a better job than the one I have.
"I'm looking for Nin. Do you know where she is?"
"This van setup is amazing!" I'm seriously impressed. "How do you avoid getting robbed?"
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