Clay is just all full of helpful offers. Wilford almost laughs. "That just might get you on the news," he says. "Might also get you shot."

It's not a no. If anything, Wilford would like to see it. It would probably be entertaining.

He heads into the restaurant and ignores the bi-lingual 'wait to be seated' sign. He grabs two menus from behind the podium and finds an empty table nearby.

"I'm sure there's no end of stupid fuckers thinking they can roam the suburbs and be fine. You'd probably have your work cut out for you."