(no subject)
Where am I...?
Matt glanced around nervously. He'd never been here before, and wasn't sure of where exactly he was. He sat up, brushing his auburn bangs from his face, and adjusted his orange-tinted goggles.
"Lesee," he muttered to himself, "I was out on my rounds, and then I suddenly passed out..." He checked his wallet, to be sure he hadn't been mugged. After all, he lived in NYC; he could never be too careful when money was involved. Sure enough, all his cash was still there.
He sighed in relief. Sure, it was kinda risky to carry so much money around in pure monetary unit, but it was a habit of his. After all, credit cards and the like were unreliable, and it always made him nervous when one bank or another called, asking him why his deposits were always so large and how he got such large amounts at once.
But it was true; the sex industry was a lucrative business, and having as many underlings as Matt did meant big bucks. Sure, it depressed him to think of how Mello, his best friend and one of the more religious people in his life, would react upon hearing that Matt made it his business to pimp out women [and occasionally men], but he hadn't seen Mello in ages.
Standing, Matt straightened his vest and surveyed his surroundings again, pulling a cigarette and lighter from his pocket as he did. Striking up a flame and pressing the filter to his lips, Matt began to explore this new, strange place.