He jabbed his cigarette in Dieterling’s direction. ‘The snake guy, right?’ Dieterling shrugged. ‘If you say so.’ ‘That’s some cool shit; hunting snakes.’ With his cigarette hand he mimed aiming and firing a gun, doubtless drawing a bead on an imaginary hamadryad. ‘Think you can squeeze me in on your next hunting trip?’ ‘I don’t know,’ Dieterling said. ‘We tend not to use live bait. But I’ll talk to the boss and see what we can arrange.’
