"Brant, this is my roomie Mitch. Mitch: Brant."
"Yo."
"He's a tattoo artist. Helps me sharing the cost of my stepfather's old place."
"Cool."
The kid cowering in one corner of the messy loft and sucking on a bong while staring at the TV was surely the grubbiest punk I had ever met in my life. Next to him, even sloppy Ryker looked like a slick geek ... I'd definitely be lacking of words to describe him. He didn't really take notice of me, though, so at least it was a simple thing to ignore him. The room itself was challenging enough; an old place indeed, more of a hall in fact, seamlessly blending its apparently varied purposes: breeding station and stable for small animals as well as filthy eat-in kitchen; laboratory as well as opium den. At least bath- and bedroom seemed to be elsewhere in the house, and it wasn't clear if this Mitch guy used to practice his tatt-art right here at this place or not.
"Yo."
"He's a tattoo artist. Helps me sharing the cost of my stepfather's old place."
"Cool."
The kid cowering in one corner of the messy loft and sucking on a bong while staring at the TV was surely the grubbiest punk I had ever met in my life. Next to him, even sloppy Ryker looked like a slick geek ... I'd definitely be lacking of words to describe him. He didn't really take notice of me, though, so at least it was a simple thing to ignore him. The room itself was challenging enough; an old place indeed, more of a hall in fact, seamlessly blending its apparently varied purposes: breeding station and stable for small animals as well as filthy eat-in kitchen; laboratory as well as opium den. At least bath- and bedroom seemed to be elsewhere in the house, and it wasn't clear if this Mitch guy used to practice his tatt-art right here at this place or not.