WHERE: any vendor that sells things. winterbloom market. WHO: open [ @crescentstarters ]
Nate Blackwood could probably throw a stone in the middle of the market and hit at least one person that had penciled him in at the top of their shit list. It was for that reason alone that he’d had no intentions to come. But, as he’d seemed to so conveniently forget, part of being a Blackwood meant making public appearances. And not ones that ended with a punch to the face. So he was making his rounds, keeping his head down, and spending an unnecessary amount of money everywhere he went. It seemed people cared less about the bribery and collusion when he had money to burn.
Sensing someone approaching as he perused, Nate’s instinct was to tense. He squared his shoulders but schooled his face into something bland, if not pleasant. He didn’t turn to face them, only nodded in their direction, eyes still fixed forward. “What’s good here? Any suggestions?”
