Three of the guys loitering at the mouth of the tunnel were guards. One was the house's hook up to coke, crack, and hookers. A fucking disheveled, Harsh Realm concierge. The fifth man was an obese old man, settled on a stool in front of the oil bin, white hair smeared with grime and worse, the four teeth visible in his leering smile the color of coffee and nicotine and rot.

He snickered as Neil came strutting up, eyes glancing over him and dismissing him in one smooth evaluation.

"You two taking turns or going in together?" He called, noticing Tom and Mike following after him. "Either way, rate's an ounce of gas an hour." He reached out for Neil with dirty hands - three nails were dark with bruises, the fourth had fallen off completely. "Or you could just this little piece of ass wrap his mouth around my dick for a little while, eh?" The old man laughed wheezily and the other men followed suit, giving Neil utterly transparent looks. In the shadows just outside the rim of firelight, the dealer regarded Neil with new interest, a different kind of smile all together pulling at the corners of his twitching lips.

"Bet you'd like that, wouldn't you, you little whore-"