Trev Scabior sold his scruples for a galleon. (opportunist) wrote in wished,
"Pretty much," Trev said, ignoring all but her last question, it was easier that way. "I didn't 'ave all that much I wanted to bring and the place was already furnished. I left the rest at the flat for the next bugger who moves in. Gretchen or anyone that wants it." His head dropped back against the back of the couch, not looking at Verity as he talked. He couldn't even keep his eyes open for that. "You're not their type," he said, elaborating of his earlier assessment. "'S good thing. Or something like that."