DAMIA & CIAN -- WATER STREET: 11:00am.
“Slumming, blondie?” he asked, turning to the familiar voice, offering her a quick grin. It wasn’t a very good guess – probably working, all things considered – but the easiest to voice in a public street. “Gorgeous neighborhood,” he continued as she approached, “can’t say I blame you. Thinking this one,” he gestured at the dilapidated building with his thumb, “will be my next project. Fifteen or twenty luxury units big enough for a family of rats and a hume, if he’s skinny.”
Good to see her, though. The woman had sense, and a sharp tongue, and one or two other things he’d enjoyed at one point in time. Money, too, though you wouldn’t know it to look at her – but she played high stakes, and a high stakes customer was one to be courted in whatever way best suited. Fortunately, she seemed best suited to sarcasm. “Want first go at one?” he asked, entertained by the thought. “Bet they rent out faster than I put them on the market.”