"Twenty bucks."
 "Come on, man, it's worth fourty."
 "Final offer."
 "Fine."
 Ferret traded the watch he'd found in a dumpster for a wrinkled, dirty twenty and slunk out of the pawn shop. Glancing both ways quickly, he slipped in the small gap between the pawn shop and laundromat and jogged down the slightly wider alley. When he got to the wall, he scrambled up it and slid down the other side. Using some of the money to buy a greasy burger from a shack on the other side of the street, he slipped the change into one of the pockets of his ragged coat and put the burger into the knapsack on his back. Wanting to get below the surface streets, he slunk along the shadows of the severe gray buildings and avoided contact with any other people going about their business. When he came to a row of dumpsters, he crawled behind one and settled down to eat. 

 He was dressed as if someone put together a bunch of old rags and sewed them together with twine, which is actually how some of his clothes were made. His hair was overgrown and dirty, and the cloth that covered his lower face, neck, and chest made it almost impossible to see what he looked like. All in all, he was completely forgettable, and that was the way he liked it.