“So make me an offer.” The salesman put his hands on his waist, and tilted his head to keep his face at least partially shaded by his hat brim: the sun was a hammer that afternoon.
“Looks to be in fair shape. Engines are type three, though, I’d have to drop in type fours on Allafrete, and that’ll cost.”
“Got a guy there, give you a good deal on reconditioned fours. Thirty percent off list.”
“All right. Twenty-five thousand credits.”
The salesman adjusted his hat for the millionth time, then nodded. “Shake. Worth it just to clear the lot space.”
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