God knows what is hiding in that weak and drunken heart

[marlborodog]

[ He lives in a townhouse three tram stops away from the upscale grocery where he works. He's learned to ride a bike again, because he does delivery. He sees a lot of things and each trip is long enough for a smoke. At the end of every week he walks away with an armful of expired groceries that are just as good as they'd been the week before and still a couple levels of quality better than what he can afford on his salary. It gives him room to save, and keep himself dressed, and the rent paid, and to drop a hefty tip for a whore now and then, when he doesn't have the stomach for pick-ups and night life.

He's lived here for three months without earning so much as a side-eye from the unsubtle security just numerous enough to be everywhere without looking like they were watching your every move.

He hasn't been shot at in all that time, either.

And in another month they might promote him up to a real bike, especially if if he keeps treating his supervisor just right. She's got a cute mole on the inside of her right thigh.

He's Badou Nails, model citizen.

It's a Friday night and he's walking his bike and his groceries back to his doorstep from the last tram stop. ]