Chips.
Crisps.
Whatever you want to call them, it doesn't really matter all that much. All that matters right now is the person purchasing them. He was a normal man for the most part, and the chips he bought were a simple rippled variety. They were plain and dry just like the man who desired them.

Jackson threw a five dollar bill down onto the counter. He had more exact change for the 2.30$ bag but he needed to break the five anyway. He took the bus, after all. The man behind the counter counted out his change and said his generic "Hello's" and "Goodbye's". Jackson briefly wondered about the man behind that glass and metal, the man who stared out at him past the packs of cigarettes and cheap products. He had a simple, friendly look to him that person. His features were calm under his hippy length beard and long ginger hair. Jackson wondered what decisions brought this kind man to behind the counter.

In the end though he decided that thoughts like that were worthless, and that he would rather think about what movie he would pirate tonight. He said his generic "Hello's" and "Goodbye's" to that man and left the store. As he left the chimes attached to the door rang out into the night. The sound truly did complete that melancholy, lonely atmosphere Jackson deserved.

He walked and walked and walked, footsteps echoing as his feet sloshed through puddles. His thoughts moved to his feet as he realized he would need to wash out his socks and shoes the next day. The man was walking through the warehouse district now, his feet wet and his happiness non-existent. Jackson had always liked the look of the warehouse district. It had that peculiar mix of dread, wonder, and modern adventure to it. As such he always made sure to use this route when on his way out to purchase cheapo snackfoods.

Jackson shifted the weight on his back around a bit, pushing his axe back up onto his shoulder. He inquired mentally as to whether or not he really did need to wander around the city looking like a crazed murderer from a slashed film constantly. The answer he arrived at was, naturally, a yes. 

He most definitely did.

Sadly, it seemed he would not be able to continue walking with leisure. The warehouse district was usually a violent, crime ridden place, but it was rarely being set on fire. And being set on fire was what it currently was. There was a woman Jackson saw, her clothing and overall look confused him; arsonists didn't tend to have day jobs.

And people who have day jobs didn't tend to carry around large amounts of gasoline.

"Erm... excuse me... Miss? I really couldn't care less about the reasons behind your... rather emphatic use of flammable liquids... but you're... erm... sort of in my way... and I need to get home... because it is dark out... and I like my sofa quite a lot..."

Naturally this whole situation was annoying Jackson quite a lot. He just didn't give enough of a damn to want to deal with this right now. After all, the new season of Game of Bones was on tonight and he was not going to miss it! He had to know what was going to happen next to all of those well written skeletons.

Jackson briefly wondered if he valued television more than his own life.

The answer to that peculiar question was a "Yes".