A rubber ball smacks into the oak tree just behind Third Street School's famed Hustler kid. Flicking a stolen cigarette (he really only has one a month, if that) he raises his fist in the direction the ball came from.

"Knock it off, some of us are doing proper business here, watch my merchandise!" He yells, groaning as he turns his eyes forward against and leans casually against a tree, eyes scanning the playground for a potential sell.

As the designated Hustler Kid of Third Street, he does a good chunk of business, and like any good businessman, knows his customers. Whether he's slinging gum and slingshot bands to Spinelli, or getting a classical record for Mikey, he's always on top of it. However, a pair of shiny new shoes on the concrete steps leading from the school catch his eye. A new kid. "Well, hello there..." He straightens himself up and brushes off his coat. "Time to go introduce myself to lucky number client fourty-nine-"