[center][img]http://txt-dynamic.static.1001fonts.net/txt/dHRmLjk2LjBiNjAyMC5WR2h2YldGeklDWWdTMkZ6LjA,/asphaltic-grain-condensed-perso.bold.png[/img] The Food Stalls [@caliban22][/center] Kas smiled at the dudes altercation with the senior, he’d used a phrase he had heard before somewhere and he was pretty sure he’d even known what it meant at one point. He couldn’t quite recall the meaning but he knew it was pretty damn offensive. Not that he wouldn’t have figured that out anyway with the kind of reaction it had gotten. “S’all good. I’m Thomas, this is my cousin Kas.” He nodded, his version of a handshake. “My brother fell in love with a woman from this town, dangers of spending a ton of time online I guess. When it came time to close the distance he brought us with him. Would have felt guilty about leaving us back on the estate I guess.” That was a half truth. Arthur didn’t really have much of a choice in the matter with the way their mum was. She hadn’t worked in more than twenty years and her anxiety and depression made it so she rarely, if ever left the house. If he’d have moved without them they would have had no income at all aside from whatever Kas brought in from slinging, and you could hardly put weed and coke peddling down on paper as your form of income. “Fucking should have left us. Lewisham may not have looked as pretty but there was plenty of money to be made… Land of opportunity my ass.” He scoffed. “Lewisham has one of the worst unemployment rates in the city.” Thomas looked at Kas, raising an eyebrow. “You know that’s not what the fuck I meant.” Kas smiled, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a $10 bill, handing it to Thomas. “Here, get yourself something. I changed my mind, I want pizza.” “Alright, have fun. Don’t get into any trouble.” He yelled behind him, turning back to face Francisco. “So where you from? Your own accent doesn’t sound local.”