desperate optimism

...You’re not a minor, right?  

[ @ gomorrah-grappler ] ​ Clunk-click.  Clunk-click. Clunk-click. Greg--please, do call him Greg, only his late father (bless his soul--wait, no don’t bless his soul, he was a horrific old coot) ever called him Gregory--keeps close to walls of this one particular Freeside alley, which he has deemed not be as rife with muggers and dying giant rats or any other of those wonderful things that you can only really find in Freeside’s urban fauna. Well, it is rife with garbage and is unhygienic as all hell, but if Greg can make five steps without someone mistaking the noise of his leg brace with the clink of a bag full of caps, then he’s gotten himself the jackpot among the dirty Freeside back alleys. (Of course he wouldn’t hobble across Freeside’s main streets, Greg doesn’t like begging to get mugged, shot, or clipped by a stray bullet from someone else’s muggings or gunfights. He’s not a tourist. Not anymore, at least.) Clunk-click. Clunk-click. Why yes, this is a great back alley. It’s even not too far from the Atomic Wrangler. To sweeten just how great this alley is, there’s this guy--freakishly big, freakishly classy--with a cigarette in his mouth, leaning just beyond the reach of the Wrangler’s neon lights.   The Incredible Hunk (haha, an Old World joke, get it?) might be either a tourist, a particularly sharp-looking escort, or one of those Omerta thugs. Whatever he is, he will be a potential customer.   Clunk-click. Greg quietly prays he’s not one of those Omerta thugs, the ones with twitchy trigger fingers, and clears his throat loudly.   “Excuse me!” Greg flashes his best grin. “Would you be interested in some chems? I’ve got Jet, Stims, Rocket, Psycho, Med-X, whatever you’d want, and it’s prime quality!” If he gets a good deal--and doesn’t get mugged, again--he might even rent himself a room for the night, even take a long hot shower while he’s at it! That would be nice!  That is, if the Hunk doesn’t just shoot him and take his batch of chems, of course! “Prices are negotiable too!” Please don’t shoot me! 

So I am revamping/have revamped Greg into something more like what I want him to be 

I guess this pretty much sets the tone of the greeting drafts so far

"Me? Disadvantages? I mean, aside from the glasses that are thicker than the bottom of a Nuka-Cola bottle, I'm right as rain! Heck, with my glasses I scored a 7 out of 10 during my perception tests, and I'm never without my glasses, so what's the problem?"Good thing no one will know that the last time he took the test without the glasses his scores were absolutely abysmal.

"Ghouls. They're so filthy!  I know it's not their fault, I mean, seriously, who would even want to go through necrosis while being still alive and lucid, but you'd expect someone that is quite literally a walking, talking husk of gangrene to look after their own hygiene a bit more, no? I don't think I could even touch one, really, they're just so terrible to even look at!"

I'm going to make openers tomorrow, that's for sure))

✲ : Something or someone they down right hate

And a full-body ref of Greg Sullivan to get this thing started.

Test

EDIT: Now with 100% less glasses