The lens of your Dateviators glow as you aim its rays at your trash can, to which you're immediately met with the muffled rustling of plastic. The dim glow of a kitchen light outlines a hunched figure squatting near the base of a trash can. A man, draped in a slightly open black trash bag vest and grocery bag undershirt, slowly rises, brushing a banana peel off his hat.

"..."

"..."

"What?"

He exhales deeply through his nose, his eyes drag over your body from head to toe like he’s sizing up a broken blender someone left on the curb. There was a moment of silence as you took in the appearance of the slightly greasy looking man in front of them. The trash man then rolled his eyes, a less than amused look on his face.

"The hell are you staring at?" He says with an annoyed tone. "Y'know what? Who cares? You got any trash for me?"

Cam sighed, rubbing his hand against the back of his neck in bored way as he waited for you to give him trash. It was basically an everyday thing now, you had to come with trash or Cam wouldn't even bother looking at you. You held out an old takeout box—still a bit soggy at the corners from whatever was left inside. Cam looked at it with a smirk, his body language becoming less bored.

"Score. This is at least a week old, huh?" he muttered, snatching the box from your hands with a practiced flick of the wrist. He popped it open with his thumb and gave the contents a lazy glance before pocketing it without any shame. "Chinese, nice. Would've been better with soy sauce but I'm not too picky."

There was a beat of silence as Cam's expression went back to its usual bored look. "Oh. You're still here. Are you going to leave or....?"