Jurgen sighed when Eve insisted she just wanted a knife. He didn't give a fuck what she wanted, he was trying to be nice, he didn't need lip from her. [i]Female robots...[/i] he thought with as much exasperation as he could manage. But then it didn't matter, it was time to do some shopping. The place wasn't exactly large, as Eve had observed, in once inside, the cyborg was relieved to discover that there weren't any pushy salespeople. The next thing to catch his eye was the racks of guns. Those looked promising. Surely he could find something in there that would do. He spotted the enhancements bay as well, but that didn't interest him. A robot greeted them once they were in the door, and Jurgen gave it a nod, before doing just as it suggested, and browsing the armaments. 

His android had already bee-lined to the edged weapons, leaving him to sort through the racks of guns. They weren't even locked. Obviously this place had some hefty security installed out of sight. And on top of that, there were no magazines to be found. Or any ammunition for that matter. He supposed that made things pretty safe. Regardless, the cyborg still knew enough to safety check the guns he looked at. There were a few that were half-decent, and a couple that he liked. But the guns he really wanted, he knew would be nearly impossible to conceal. The very nice shotguns for sale were also way out of his price-range. He didn't need to see a price to know that. Then, after some deliberating, the man decided. "Hey, robot, where do you keep prices?" he asked, approaching the android that was watching over the store. He didn't see the doctor-guy it had mentioned, but this thing probably did almost all the transactions anyway.

And then, before he could start rhyming off the things he wanted prices for, the cyborg spotted the weapons accessories. Jurgen had to check those out too, just in case. Such things could easily sway his decision, since he wanted this to be a discreet execution. Getting in the news was not his goal, nor would it ever be. So he looked over the case of various attachable doo-dads, and then went back and checked the gun selection again, before making up his mind. He didn't take anything up to the counter, though, figuring they would have much nicer inventory in the back, still in its boxes and everything. The last thing he wanted was the display models, that everyone and their grimy robo-dogs had handled. "You got a register here? Where do I order things?" Jurgen asked. He had the money to pay, but he didn't know where the transactions went down. The place was cluttered enough with various odds and ends, that there could be a terminal literally anyway, hiding behind a box or a pile of parts...