The beach isn't a popular place for the homeless, at least during off season. There's not enough people or places to get good handouts. They're slowly moving that way though. There's rumors the police will be setting up a curfew, and the murders have everyone nervous. There's unlikely to be a mass migration, most of the homeless will just look for
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"Hi, Markus." She sets down her plants. "Who's your friend?"
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Willie squints up the beach at nothing in particular, then at last turns to Rat with a slight frown. "Charlie coming along to this gig?" His voice is guttural and husky, perfectly suited to jazz, and he looks to be in his mid to late sixties. Grizzled grey-white curly hair stands out against his dark skin. His eyes are hard to read, but there's something unfocused about his gaze.
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She smiles gently at Willie. She recognizes that unfocused look. "Hi, Willie, it's a pleasure to meet you. My name's Sarah. Would you two like to come in for something to drink? Or a snack, maybe?"
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