About Tony "Geezer" TalbotStreet Name: Geezer
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== Lifestyles == Chopshop Apartment 2 months Comforts: Middle Entertainment: Middle Necessities: Middle Neighborhood: Low Security: High Qualities: Dug a Hole [2LP] Friendly Neighbors [1LP] Fully Stocked Bar [1LP] Perfect Roommate [2LP] Workplace [1LP] Household Gremlins (Rating 1) [-1LP] Loud Neighborhood [-1LP] Network Bottleneck [-1LP] Rough Neighborhood [-1LP] Barrens Bolt Hole 2 months
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Story:
The refrigerator's door opened, as a massive, ring-covered hand reached in, scavenging around. The blinders on the windows were wide open, showing a wide view on Quincy Bay, as container ships darteed left and right. The room was loud, the whirrs and thuds of circular saws, cranes and the occasional ear-blistering shout sounding from the floor below. The hand continued crawling around the refridgerator, pushing aside a cardboard box with two chopsticks sticking out of it. I wish the f&++ing Micks brought over a proper chippy..., the owner of the hand thought, as the hand finally reached a can, grabbing it with conviction. Only to realise from the crumbling of the can that it was empty. Another, similarly large and adorned hand opened the fridge completely, attached to a rather large ork with red-speckled eyes and a stubble on the verges of becoming a beard. A Union Jack t-shirt peeked through the ork's robe, stretched over a small belly with big dreams. The ork rubbed his eyes with one of the hands, then rose his head towards one of the other rooms. "Oi, Pam!", he howled in a loud voice, the accent indicating that he's most likely not a Red Sox fan, or even familiar with what the Red Sox are. "What'd you want, you arse? I'm working!", a woman's voice in a nails-on-glass Bostonian accent shouted back, seemingly from a room nearby. The ork leaned on the fridge, fingers scratching the stubblebeard, then shuffled onwards towards the room next door. Peeking through the doorframe, a thick cloud of smoke emanating from an elven woman sitting on a desk, several screens in front of her, as well as three overfilled ashtrays filled his gaze. The room, adorned by an odd combination of posters, both of sports teams and teen dramas, sporting scarves and five-a-nuyen cheap jewelry and accessories cabinet is about as confusing as it is explaining the situation onn hand. "Where's my bloody beer, you ginger chimney?", he asked, shuffling into the room to take a cigarette box from a massive carton next to the desk, the hieroglyphs on the boxes suggesting it was definitely not bought legally, and lit one up, staring back at the elf currently exhaling smoke through severely pouted lips. "I drank it last night after you fell asleep." She popped a bubble from her bubble gum, exploding in even more smoke. "Halfway through the movie, and you snored like a busted carburator, so I went for a drink. Or, six.", she replied, crossing her arms on her chest. "Love, you really know how to make a geezer royally pissed off! It's f%$#ing Arsenal playing Manchester Augmented!", he shouted back, arms raised in the air, "It's the bloody classic! And it starts in fifteen bloody minutes!" He shakes his head, taking a scarf off the wall and starts leaving the room, sighing. "Oi, you bloody Irish hag, I'm off to the deli, you want something? Fifteen crates of cancer sticks?", he grunts back, clearly annoyed, as he starts putting on the sneakers. A mischievous smirk appears on Pam's face. "I don't want nothing from you, you damn trog.", she hisses back, before grinning. "But if you can go to the fridge and grab me a beer, I wouldn't mind. I'd hate for them to freeze." Tony scratched his head for a moment, before giving a tusked grin backwards. "Oi, wot?", he exclaims, before reaching over the desk and leaning through the AR screens. "Mhm. I went and got some, then left them in the fridge, before you wake up. Now feck off and let me do work, accounting is hard enough without your arse in sight." Giving Pam a peck on the mouth, Tony left the room. Only to appear a moment later with two cans of beer in his hands.
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