Goat Eyes

Goat Eyes, the street hustler and 'man of many endeavours'. He's your lead.

Eyes aren't bloodshot. He's close to sober -- his reactions will be better than last time.

Goat Eyes leans back as you approach. His off-axis gaze slowly glides along your body.

Goat Eyes offers a tired smile as you approach. As usual, he peruses your curves and doesn't hide it.

His employer? What's he heard?

His smirk's gone. Just a tight line now, barely there.

If he won't sell it to you then maybe someone else will. That should get through to a businessman like him.

It wouldn't do for an Azzurri associate to be too close to a carabinero, and vice-versa.

Nothing springs to mind outside of outright marrying the guy.

Now it's all done, everything in him hopes that his concession will earn him a place in your heart.

Poor guy. He had such a rough night.

The Azzurris smelled something was off about it, then.

This is a man of many competing loyalties: his family, his business, his friends, and the Azzurri mob. But the one that stays his hand the most?

"All I'm saying is it didn't work out so well for you last time."

"And what? Be haunted by Vespar for the rest of my days? Come on."

"Baby, these return visits make me think we should be exclusive."

"But tell me." He straightens his posture, the grin fading. "Your friend, is he feeling any better?"

"Habibti." He nods. "How's your friend?"

"I'll be seeing you."

"Listen, you bested me on the draw before. But I'm ready for you this time."

"Tell me what you need. Maybe today I get you better protection than that thing you pulled on me, yeah?"

"The business of you, and whatever it is you deserve."

"The business of you, as always. And you need it. It broke my heart to see you holding that 'protection'. You deserve better."

"This your little tribute to Vespar? Looking much better in the uniform than he ever did. Mmm."

"You have a gun. Not a good one I know, but it got you this far."

"You're talking to an elite purveyor of many services. Maybe I get you better protection than that thing you pulled on me. Just tell me what you need."

"Wait, Goat Eyes works for the Azzurri?"

Sounds familiar... she's talking about Goat-Eyes, the lovelorn soul of many endeavours.

Happy-go-lucky drug peddler. Among the first steps on the ladder of serious crimes.

He has access to guns. Sells them, even.

Matches a certain hustler near the roundabout who calls you baby-girl.

Don't let this get ugly. Not after what he told you about Vespar.

He hasn't seen your face, he doesn't know who you are. There's nothing to lose.

He knows who you are. Better for him to walk away from this with something.

Vespar's asset. That might complicate the situation -- or make it far easier.

"Baby girl? The fuck?"

"First, you ask for protection, and then you rob me with that thing." His gun hand goes slack. "It's disrespectful."

"Fuck, well, why didn't you start with that?" He shakes his head, then looks toward the cargo.

"Never mind that. We need what's in the back."

"Oh, no. This hash must have me seeing things, because I can't believe my eyes." Dim, bloodshot eyes light up as they recognize you.

"Well, why didn't you start with that?" He lowers his gun, then looks toward the tuktuk.

"Yo, hold on. I know those curves." He squints. "Baby-girl, is that you? Why are you covering your face?"

"Yo, hold on. I know those curves." He squints. "Baby-girl, is that you? Why are you dressed like one of those hamir?"

"You carrying?" Like flicking a switch, something changes in his eyes.

"You two are familiar, then." He scans the scene, a flicker of amusement on his face.

"There's this dealer I know. Might be helpful."

All roads, it seems, lead back to Goat Eyes.