dark wheatish figure finally opens the bunker door.
The ad said “Micropaleontologist seeks DJ for digging up the brownest, crustiest nuggets this side of a Pompeii port-a-potty. Ask for Abhi.” (You’ll never use Craigslist again.)
“You Sukhdeep?” he snorts.
“Sometimes,” you quip. He doesn’t get the reference. Smiling, you enter.