[Dated to Tuesday, November 10th, Evening]

[one__song]

With the Catscratch Club closed, Roger had plenty of time to think about all of the ways he could fuck up in his spare time. In his entire time on the island, he had never been so capricious with his cigarettes, but this was time for a Goddamn exception. Two nights ago, Roger had been propositioned by a smelly menace of a man to try some glowy-

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[bloodmarket]

Acquainting himself with the social hubs of the community had been the easy part of Graverobber's nights since he arrived. All he had to do was follow the drunken swaggers, the hoots and hollers, and the stink of weed and gutrot. In fact if he completely disregarded the jungle, fresh air and clear sky altogether he would have thought he never thought he left the city.

He was just moving passed The Hub when he spotted a familiar skinny ass disappearing back inside. He paused, feet slowing and he changed direction. Their last conversation had been quite... stimulating. Grinning, he tapped the Z-gun and whistled, long strides taking him to the building. With expert practice he slipped silently in side and spotted his quarry. Creeping up behind the figure and glanced at the guest as he dipped his head in close to the pretty boy's ear.

"The offer still stands."

[spd_green]

Enthralled in the explanation he was giving, as alcohol seemed to make Bridge more talkative than even the world's most advanced scientists would have thought possible, Bridge hardly noticed the man approach until he hovered just next to Roger's face. Taking up a lot of Roger's personal space, Bridge noted, which led to the assumption that Roger wasn't going to like the interruption much, regardless of how felt about Ric's eco-friendly battery.

"He gobbles up any garbage you have hello," Bridge rambled, not pausing in his speech when his focus centered on the man. "Are you a friend of Roger's?" It was an innocent question, and his face was blankly friendly, but his fingers twitched with a desire to read this guy's aura and see if he really was the stereotype his appearance made him out to be.

[one__song]

God, Roger wanted to laugh at how adorable Bridge was when he was off on one of his signature tangents, but with that nameless, rank fucker all up in his business, the growing comfort and familiarity on Roger's face didn't fade so much as disappear immediately.

"No, he's not," Roger said quickly, glaring up at the guy. He hoped (probably in vain) that would make him go away.

[bloodmarket]

"Good friends." Graverobber corrects quickly, speaking just quick enough to cover the tail end of Roger<'s sentence. He squirreled the name away for future use and tipped his head, still looming over top his victim and grinned serenely. "The very best. Real chums if you ask me." He winked and straightened his back, happy to stand over the other man's shoulder for as long as he could physically get away with it.

Judging on the lack of concerned patrons and the drinking companion's level of sobriety, he didn't have much to worry about in that regard.

"Have any luck mulling things over?"