|Logan (hey_bub) wrote in silverage,|
@ 2011-08-28 14:09:00
|Entry tags:||!log, logan, lorna dane|
Logan was by no means desperate for money yet, but finding steady employment was pretty high on his to-do list. He'd traveled the extent of the cage, and he knew where he could make quick money if he ever needed to. Every big city had its underground entertainment, and New York was no different. Dive bars with back rooms and cage fights, risky transportation of contraband goods, things like that. He knew how to search out those kinds of people, and if things got tight in the financial department, he'd know where to go.
This though ... he had no idea why he was doing this. Painting someone's room. Someone who sounded young from what he'd read on the boards. Someone just learning to bake cookies ... well, he wondered if he wasn't going to show up and find some eight year old kid who'd gotten to the boards under her parents' radars or something. He guessed he'd find out when he got to wherever he was going.
He'd looked up the address and found it to be in the northern sector of the cage, so he set out from his temporary room (he was still rebelling against the idea of finding an apartment) to head in that direction. Finding back roads and disregarding speed limits had him there within forty-five minutes, and the place itself wasn't hard to find once he was in the area.
He regarded the huge mansion and he shook his head slightly. Well, someone who lived in a place like this could probably afford fifty cents an hour. He parked his bike in the driveway and he stared up at the building, squinting a little against the sun before he sighed and headed up the walkway. He rapped on the door before he thought to look for a bell ... but he'd wait and see if anyone answered the knock before he tried the bell.