One couldn't always be a playboy. Sven had headed over to Salem Center, his cellphone down in the bottom of his pocket, increasing his bulge. Not that he needed it, of course. The stroll was nice, catching minor hi's and hey's. Sven didn't know any of these people, but that didn't mean he would be a jerk. Every stranger was a possible client. Still a stranger, but a stranger that put money in his pocket. Not that he was seeing much of anyone that he'd manually help pleasure, but still.
There was a group coming and Sven didn't slow his stride or turn to the side. There was a confident gait to his step, eyes level and a small smile on his face. He made eye contact with as many of them as possible, but a man with a rather sharp-angled face caught his attention. "Excuse me," he said, his step slowing suddenly, but his body remaining fluid, pheromones slipping over the other.