braindamagedbeauty
He’d ran out on his luck, squandered the last cap to his name. And now, after being spurned by the big three for being nothing more than a loiterer, he drifted the desolate streets of Freeside with hands deep in his pockets and a worn expression hidden beneath forming scruff. It’d been some time since he last found himself in this position, however he knew the routine, and as always, had a well rehearsed act prepared for when the next desperate woman sauntered into the the wrangler with enough caps to have him set for another bout of extravagant living on The Strip. Until then, he could technically be classified as one many squatters that inhabited the blighted area, except with a significantly better taste in fashion. Strolling through the slums wasn’t the safest pastime, however he had no problem dealing with the local thugs that insisted on attempting robbery. He might not have looked the part, but he was pretty adept with a pistol- one of the few skills retained from the extensive years of NCR service. However, one of the hoodlums did manage to get the slip on him. Luckily he walked away with nothing more than a scrape on the cheek and a torn blazer. His favorite blazer...and the only good one he owned at the moment. Fortunately one of the Wrangler patrons recommended a seamstress working out of one of the shabby apartment complexes, and from the sounds of it she would give him a better deal than going to Mick & Ralph’s. Not too long after he found himself standing in front of a rickety door inside of the drab building. Keegan rapped at the splintered wood ❝Er, I’m looking for the tailor?❞ he called out with uncertainty, ❝I’m looking to have something mended ❞