<span style="font-family: 'Tahoma'"><span style="font-size: 15px"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">The last thing Siv wanted was to keep working. He hated what he'd had to resort to, and hated what he'd become while doing it. Her also hated the thought that he'd be mooching of someone else if he quit, but..... maybe he could find a real job?<br/>
</span></span><br/>
<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff"><span style="font-size: 15px">Being surrounded by other Omegas could be good for him, if they proved to be accepting. Most Omegas were either motherly and accepting, being driven by strong maternal instincts that sometimes had them grouping together like wolves or a herd of horses. Others were ornery pretentious fucks, brought on by the mess of hormones that made up their biology. There were outliers of course, as with any race/status.<br/>
<br/>
His interest sparks further at the mention of food. Now that he could afford a proper meal, Siv was more than willing to go somewhere to eat, despite his somewhat ragged appearance and slight limp from soreness (the stares bothered him, of course, but he couldn't afford to have that limit him).<br/>
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Then there was the added benefit of a doctor... He'd think on that one a little more.<br/>
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It could all be a trap or ruse, but Siv was past the point of caring.<br/>
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"I... being around other Omegas sounds... nice. Food does too." He says quietly, anxious of being denied despite being offered. Hunching into himself, Siv casts the man a side glance. </span></span></span>