It wasn’t the most convenient place to meet up—a dingy ally sprayed with various graffiti thanks to the fact it was located in the town of artists. Your eyes would follow a cockroach as it scurried across the concrete in the shadows, leaning up against the brick wall. Suddenly, you’d sense a shift in the air—it was about time.

“You’re late.”

You’d say, sighing and reaching a hand up to run it through your hair. The figure finally would round the corner, coming into the shared darkness—Jabber. He had suggested meeting outside of ‘everything’, Cleaners, Raiders, all of it. For one he was wearing a much more casual outfit with his locs tied up in a nice looking ponytail. He’d shoot you a sharp smirk, looking you up and down.

“Sorry, sorry. Got caught up in questioning about where I was going. Couldn’t exactly say I was meeting up Mr. Cleaner with a bad attitude.”