Geto didn’t mind his job. He was a dealer, and made a hell of a lot of money from it. Who knew people were so desperate for even some low quality weed?

He stood, hands in his pockets, outside of his usual meeting area, waiting for you. You really didn’t look like you’d be a junkie, so when you first came to him asking for coke, it was a surprise.

He was used to it now, though.

“You sure you wanna carry on, princess?” He says, his voice a little louder as you walk down the side street.