Adam was one of those that was into that sort of thing. He had already had a few big sips of the Toddy and the next time the bartender came over, it was with an order of oyster shooters. Adam was enough of a regular that it was known that he would be ordering some sooner or later. He nodded his thanks and took one down his throat with a jerk of his head and gave a content, loud sigh after.

"Fontaine, as in Fontaine Futuristics? Shit." That meant all this smuggling was bigger than he'd at first thought. The Vigors that his company was making were quickly going black market and the smuggling was big business. Even bigger business was the antidote to the splicing problem, and Adam had already talked to Booker about his theory on that. His company wasn't doing nearly enough about the smuggling, and Adam had suspicions that it was because they were making so much money off of all the fucking splicers cropping up. It was sickening what was going on.

Adam sighed and looked over at Booker, eying over his face and that fluffy little turtleneck. It wasn't too much different from his own black turtlenecks he always wore, except it looked warmer. "All I've found is that there's a guy down on Columbia Street that's been trying to make deals on Buckin' Bronco. A Vigor that serious he has to have a supplier. He might be our only lead until Atlas pokes his head up."