𝘛𝘙𝘌𝘝𝘖𝘙 𝙁𝙐𝘾𝙆𝙄𝙉𝙂 𝘗𝘏𝘐𝘓𝘐𝘗𝘚
psychotic, dangerous
and twisted criminal.
meth salesman,
business owner,
canadian, c̶a̶n̶n̶i̶b̶a̶l̶.
a muse of # CORVID.
#GTAVRP#GTARP#MVRP
[ he takes a moment to
consider the possibility,
but he quickly shakes his
head. ]
nononono. if you were
Sheriff I'd KNOW, pal.
nothing happens around
here without Trevor Philips
Industries finding out about
it, okay? So I'll ask again ...
[ he steps closer, bristling ]
++
tough shit! I need your help.
I've been busy running my business up here in Los Shithole, which is going WELL not that you asked --
Seems Ron's run into a little trouble with some competition back in Sandy Shores, being a useless fucker and all.
So? What'dya say? You in?
I can't fucking STAND those whiny little LS hipster fuckers. I oughta set one of 'em on fire. Maybe that'll lighten my mood.
Give em somethin' to REEEEEALLY complain about.
@southsort "C'MON! Probably the most exciting thing that's happened in weeks around here, right? Gotta be better than slinging weed to fund your boy scout club. Now get in."
A hand suddenly reaches out from a dumpster, clasping at the side.
Trevor pulls himself up, looking around.
Fuck. Passed out in a dumpster again. Ah well, business doesn't wait for dumpster naps. Meth to be cooked, degenerate fuckers to be murdered.
@southsort "Hey, your gang can't be all that scary if folks are leavin' their cars unlocked. You getting in? Could still use a guide. There's cash in it for you."
He waves the gun in his hand, a possible subtle suggestion that Sketch may not quite have a choice.
++