<hr/><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/6/62/Scooter2.png)</div><br/><strong>Name:</strong>Scooter<br/><strong>Faction:</strong>Sweetrock<br/><strong>Date:</strong>May 11th, 1876<br/><strong>Time of Day:</strong>Afternoon<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Outside Babel's Tower<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong>Open, Walter<br/><hr/>Scooter rubbed at his nose, and stepped away from the small yellow puddle he’d made against the side of the Babel’s Tower,  He gave a satisfied grunt and turned back towards the front of the alley, glancing up it up and then back towards the darker shadows in case Walter might be slipping up behind him.  He scratched at a beard that was perpetually streaked with soot and sweat, then dragged fingers the size of sausages through his hair.<br/><br/>He didn’t care for the heat much, and Gomorra was always hot.  It seemed like a step outside was sure to soak his cotton shirt through, and he could feel it running down the lines of muscles at his back.  This place always itched, scratched, festered.  He didn’t like it much - but it was where the boss was, so it was where he was.  He didn’t quite know why Mr. Baine had sent him to go tell Walter to show up at his place, but hopefully it meant there wouldn’t be no trouble.  When he and Big Jake went somewhere together - then there was trouble.  He ran a thumb over a drop of sweat that had fallen on the handle of the sawed off shotgun stuck at his hip like a pistol, and blew out a sigh.  He didn’t like waiting.  He didn’t like heat, and he didn’t like Gomorra.<br/><br/>Not that any of his irritations made Scooter unpleasant; when he was punching someone’s face in for Sweetrock, he was usually offering an apology.  Or he used to - Big Jake told him to stop that, so he did, but he mostly still felt bad about it.<br/><br/>His eyes brightened a bit when he saw Walter.  Walter always dressed real nice, with his suit and his top hat.  Scooter owned a suit.  Sometimes Mr. Hardinger made him wear it, but whenever he did, he thought he was going to fall over from the heat.  It made him look at all the pretty ladies from the nice parts of town, bustling around in all them clothes, and wonder how it was they managed to stay upright.<br/><br/>He gave a little wave of a gigantic hand.<br/><br/>“Mr. Baine wants to sees you,” he offered, trying to keep his voice quiet.  What for anyone else would have been a whisper sounded like a normal tone of voice - and when Scooter occasionally forgot the admonition to ‘talk quiet,’ his voice came out a bellow.