Ari had a routine when he stopped by the Cancer.
Get supplies for his fish tank? Check. Check in on new jobs from his contractors? Check. New tattoo, or continue the work on his back? Mm. Not this time.
Get wasted and have a random hookup? In progress.
This time, however, he was looking for something a little extra to get the ball rolling. After that confrontation with Darvish, it was going to take more than just booze to take the edge off. And damned if he didn't feel edgy as fuck. Damned if he didn't feel like he'd jumped back fifteen years, back when he'd been scared and jumping at shadows, always listening for signs of the fucker. Knowing he was here on the Cancer was enough to make him twitchy.
But, supposedly there was some guy here that specialized in various recreational drugs. Good, quality shit, not sketchy stuff thrown together with supplies fished from beneath the sink.
Now all that was left was finding the guy. Which wasn't proving difficult. Judging by word on the street--well, district--he was pretty popular.
Ari headed toward the wealthier district, all too aware that he stood out like a sore thumb here in his worn cargo pants, combat boots, tank top, and tats. That was common for the Cancer, but this area looked more...business-suit-ish.
Probably filled with mafia and cartels.