<span style="font-family: 'Tahoma'"><span style="font-size: 15px"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">Siv stiffens, and his eyes widen when the cop offers to pay him for his partners services. The poor Omega very nearly chokes on his own spit when the Officer offers him almost triple what he normally gets for his services. </span></span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(255, 255, 255)"><span style="font-size: 15px">Usually the omega asked anywhere from twenty five to fifty credits for his services, depending on what he was doing and how desperate he was for some basic commodity, like food.</span></span><br/>
<span style="font-size: 15px"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff"></span></span><br/>
<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff"><span style="font-size: 15px">Taking the credits cautiously, despite all his instincts screaming this was a trap, Siv listens to the man speak, slowly understanding why the strange Alpha had approached him.<br/>
<br/>
"Just call me Siv." The Omega offers, then tilts his head slightly. After a short pause, Siv looks up slightly. "What makes you think anyone'll listen to me? I'm a hooker from the worst part of the city." No one tended to care about his type, least of all the law.<br/>
<br/>
In all reality, Mr. Marconi could just as easily find him useless and lock him up out of boredom. Denying him help could end the same way.<br/>
<br/>
This whole situation felt surreal to him, no one offered help down here without wanting something equally terrible, or worse, in return. It was just that kind of neighborhood, sadly.</span></span></span>