Mixtape Ghost NGarrett Dovanon
With Garrett, life was just about making the best of whatever you have. It was unfair to everyone, one way or another, so he often had little use for complains. However, at times like these, he just couldn’t help it.
It was on a Monday, a little past twelve. The sun was merciless. While all wise men and their dogs sought shelter, awaiting the joyous festivities that was due to commence that evening, he was stuck out here in the street, wrangling steel beams and banners under the midday sun. Admittedly, the pay was good, but now that he thought about it, eating ramen for another week might not seem like such a bad idea. Another sigh threatened to escape, but Garrett bit his lips and moved on, eager to get all this over with. He needed the money now more than ever, considering that he had just moved. It was a nice place, just close enough to work so that he could walk and far enough so that people wouldn’t make any assumption. Also, corpses weren’t as likely to turn up at your doorstep, so he supposed it was all worth it. Hopefully.
Two hours later, and Garrett finally finished with making the stall look decent. After a quick dash back to his apartment for shower and early dinner, he returned and promptly opened the hotdog stall. Working on a holiday was usually the worst kind of torture you could inflict upon yourself, but in his case, Garrett didn’t feel that horrible. After all, he doubted he would be able to fully enjoy the festivities anyway, considering the sheer number of NEST agents prowling the streets. As a hotdog vendor, they wouldn’t even give him a second look, so at least that was nice. He even donned the horrible baseball cap with the poorly made hotdog embroidery.
So far, it was fairly quiet. The lights would come on soon enough, but until then, the city would hold its breath in anticipation. Garrett was content to just flip hotdogs on the grill and enjoy the scenery. This were one of those few occasions when he showed his face in the Inner-Ring, and to be honest, he thought he would like a life here. It was a kaleidoscope of sounds and sights, and it reminded him of Highroller Heights so much. He probably couldn’t settle here though, given his status as an unregistered metahuman. But what was keeping him from getting registered? Granddad’s paranoia rubbed off on him? Possibly. That and the fact that he didn’t like people keeping tabs on him like some rabid dogs, especially with the sorts of business he was involved in. It wasn’t anything major, he just kept track of the hotel’s occupants and provided the information to an interested party. And by interested party, he meant Seraphine Campbell. The woman had her fingers in lots of pies in this city, so there were bound to be some occupational hazard working for her, but she paid well and was less likely to cross you.
His train of thoughts came to a sudden stop as another customer walked up for a hotdog. Garrett quickly responded to the order, and after handing over the hotdog, he noticed the streets were crowding up. He half-smiled, wondering what the evening would have in store for him. Hopefully something exciting. He did enjoy some surprises now and then.