Post by Noah Johnson on Feb 9, 2013 21:49:57 GMT -5
(January 12th, Closed to Horror Story and myself)
Noah loosely tapped the drum solo to some song or other on the black Nike drawstring bag he was carting with him. Sure, this was, what, his sixth or seventh time bringing drugs over to New York, but it still freaked the brunette out. Sure, the dealer who gave him twenty-five percent of all of the profit said that there was no chance of him getting caught, but Johnson knew better. After all, if there was no chance of him getting caught, then why was he here in the first place? Why not the dealer himself? No matter how much money the workers were tipped off, there was always a chance that he could get caught.
And that quite frankly horrified Noah. If he didn't need the money, he wouldn't have been doing this in the first place. Sure, his band did okay, but that didn't mean that he wasn't completely screwed if a cop decided to stroll onto the subway. Sure, nobody took the subway anymore, but... The drummer was still horrified. His band's gig money and mom's waitress pay check wasn't enough to keep him, his mother, and little brother going. Noah knew he had to step up and be a man and snag some extra cash, he just... Wished it didn't have to feel so awful.
If he got arrested, his mother and brother would be off even worse than before. The two had thought that he was getting his extra cash from working as a janitor for some crummy convenience store. The only reason the excuse worked was because the dealer paid the owner to go with the lie. Although, basically everything in Gotham was lies. Noah had to admit, the town sucked. Crime was out of control, there were psychopathic bad-dudes out to kill thousands, and then there were guys like him... So desperate that they were willing to risk getting arrested to support who they still have.
Noah loosely tapped the drum solo to some song or other on the black Nike drawstring bag he was carting with him. Sure, this was, what, his sixth or seventh time bringing drugs over to New York, but it still freaked the brunette out. Sure, the dealer who gave him twenty-five percent of all of the profit said that there was no chance of him getting caught, but Johnson knew better. After all, if there was no chance of him getting caught, then why was he here in the first place? Why not the dealer himself? No matter how much money the workers were tipped off, there was always a chance that he could get caught.
And that quite frankly horrified Noah. If he didn't need the money, he wouldn't have been doing this in the first place. Sure, his band did okay, but that didn't mean that he wasn't completely screwed if a cop decided to stroll onto the subway. Sure, nobody took the subway anymore, but... The drummer was still horrified. His band's gig money and mom's waitress pay check wasn't enough to keep him, his mother, and little brother going. Noah knew he had to step up and be a man and snag some extra cash, he just... Wished it didn't have to feel so awful.
If he got arrested, his mother and brother would be off even worse than before. The two had thought that he was getting his extra cash from working as a janitor for some crummy convenience store. The only reason the excuse worked was because the dealer paid the owner to go with the lie. Although, basically everything in Gotham was lies. Noah had to admit, the town sucked. Crime was out of control, there were psychopathic bad-dudes out to kill thousands, and then there were guys like him... So desperate that they were willing to risk getting arrested to support who they still have.