Flint unlocked the door and walked into his home. He flicked on the light as he stretched his arms, he walked over to the safe and slid the case he had been holding inside. As well as the large amount of cash he had gotten from his most recent sale. He looked around the apartment, it was small but comfortable and the electronics showed that the owner had money to spend. He flicked on his phone, checking for any new messages from buyers but there where none.
With nothing to do, Flint left his apartment and made his way to the pub, he had become quite a regular in the last few months.
Despite the place being owned by an utter psycho, who led the notorious Glasgow Razor Gang, it still was one of the best places to drink nearby, especially for business.

Flint was back on the streets, and as he walked to the pub a scrawny man confronted him 
"Flint? Flint!" The man said, as he smiled "You don't happen to have some zydrate? Do ya buddy?" He asked twitching a little.
"Sorry I haven't been dealing in awhile, guns are where the money is at." Flint removed his wallet and gave the man a few bills "Now go away"
The man nodded and left as Flint couldn't help but sigh.
He soon made his way to the pub and walked quickly to the bar, the atmosphere was warm despite the man, who seemed to have been recently removed, lying outside covered in alcohol. Flint ordered his usual cheap whiskey and glanced around, seeing a few regulars. He noticed that the owner, Renton, was present but made sure not to exchange eye contact. The revolver on his hip seemed rather heavy whilst inside the pub, reassuring Flint that it was there if he needed it.