Harry had a long stride, an advantage given by his height and gangly frame. Long steps that marched him quickly closer and closer to the green-skinned group. Steps that splashed infrequently in the puddles created by the heavy rain. He was glad to be moving again. Being stationary is never conducive to staying warm. Cigarettes increase the blood flow and keep you from being bored, but don't really warm you up. You can stamp your feet, which works for a while, but nothing beats plain old activity. Of course that could always be said.
He'd been formulating in his head how to phrase it, but it all meant the same thing. He couldn't simply walk up to some hoodlums and ask "Can you tell me what you know about these dead people?" and expect a straight answer, or even any answer at all. Especially a bunch of ill mannered, drug kingpin hoodlums. The outfit already gave him away as some Phillip Marlowe wannabe who'd ask too many questions, so he'd have to start out on the offensive. He waited till he was a good four feet from the group, then piped up.
A simple "Hey assholes." got their attention just fine
They spun around, more quizzical than angry.
"Who're you supposed to be?" asked the tall, thin, and greasy Ace.
Harry pulled the cigarette off his lips, and said "The press. The cops. Just a concerned citizen. Doesn't matter. What matters is if you wanna keep your teeth and your business you're gonna keep right on walking to that diner, sit down, and eat your dinner while you answer some questions I gotta ask you." he punctuated the last sentence with a flick of his middle finger and index finger, propelling his cigarette straight into Ace's chest, bouncing off and sending sparks into the air.
There was probably a full five seconds of silence, with tension so thick you couldn't cut through it with a chainsaw.
If Harry could remember anything after this, it'd probably be Big Billy barreling into him. It'd be a pretty clear picture, given how wide his eyes went.