Perry, the older of the two, took a long, dry drag of the cigarette held pinched between his thumb and knuckles. He found himself smoking more often than not, shrouded in a musky cloud that became his second air. Today, he looked more tired and miserable than usual, seeping of smoke with raw eyes. He was in the middle of a rant as usual, pausing to ring up a lady customer of her soaps and candies and whatever else she happened to place down, scooped up the money she'd left on the counter with a less than genuine smile. It wasn't until a chime of the bell above the door sounded her exit did he continue. Perry was a man in his thirties that looked well beyond that what with how he smoked himself dry, with short brown hair often frazzled by his own frustrated hands and stubble to match. He met Marcus when the blond was seventeen, who made swindling and conning into an art and swore like a sailor fresh from sea. Marcus wasn't even sure if Perry was his first name or his last, but somehow it stuck. “Cops. They come late and snoop around. Rifle through my shit.” Another suck of his tobacco and he was at it again, griping, “We move and they'll come find us like pests. They'll start night patrolling, I know it, we need to watch out... I had to build a new clientele because of this. I lost good money.” Marcus stood setting straight the shelves of the shop, pushing packages back into their places and eyeballing their inventory and what needed restocking. A corner pharmacy by day and bar at night left one juggling what needed prioritizing, but if one tanked then so quickly would the other. Perry usually dealt with the money, Marcus made sure to keep it afloat. “It's not perfect. But they'll come one way or another. That's what matters to you, doesn't it?” Marcus kept his voice quiet like the final exhale of a sigh. He didn't have to look at Perry to know that he was rolling his eyes already, but the man's fit would end as soon as it had started. He focused himself on actually earning money than losing it by scaring off customers that filtered in and out throughout the day. They weren't on the best side of town and the space was less than desirable, but kept in good condition and it was bound to attract business both before and after dark. Perry scoffed. He shoved himself from the counter and extinguished his cigarette on a worn notepad just as Marcus had opened the door to ventilate the shop. The blond mentioned something about collecting more stamps stocked in the basement below, then patiently left the man to brood head-down on the counter in aching from an unmistakable hangover. A few customers filed in and browsed, but Perry didn't display the energy to mind.