Lucas sighed as Cloe used literally every name for dust but its proper one, but made no further effort to correct her. Instead, he started leaving the landing deck, with a quiet "this way" to his teammate to indicate she should follow him.
"It isn't far," he continued, turning down an alley instead of heading down the main road, "Most people wouldn't know about it unless they did some digging first, though. It's a real hole-in-the-wall. The sign on the door's practically scratched out, but I promise he's got the best deals."
"See, most of the more popular stores cater to a wider audience," Lucas continued explaining, noticeably without prompting, "which is why you can get pre-made dust ammo in most places. Their 'premium' items are just expensive toys for 'trophy hunters' with too much money. Trust me, anyone tries to sell you on their 'highest quality dust', it's because they think you're a mark."
Lucas turns down another corner, either unaware or unconcerned with how grimy his path is becoming, and continues talking, whether Cloe is listening or not. "Not to mention, most places don't offer custom jobs for storage, and if they do, they want to keep it in-house. Normally, the service is pretty good, so it's not really a rip-off, but if you go through a lot of dust like I do, it's better to find a guy that lets you do it yourself. Cheaper in the long run.
Suddenly, Lucas stops, seemingly staring at a wall. Upon closer inspection, however, he's staring at a red door that practically blends in with the brick surrounding it. A faded placard reads "Particular Particulates: For the Discerning Connoisseur".
"This is the place," Lucas says, turning to Cloe, "It'll only take about five minutes to wrap everything up, if you want to wait outside." Not that he expected Cloe to take the offer, of course.