"Someone should really just put mattresses down on the infield." Joe huffed with a small roll of his eyes, as if slightly annoyed that none of the greeters had thought about that. Maybe the city had, but didn't want to spare another penny on behalf of newcomers. Or maybe they were scared that putting things all over the diamond would be too much 'interference' for the Core.

"When are they not hassling us for being newcomers!" Joe laughed, but after nearly three years in the city, native hatred was something that seemed totally normal, a daily thing to dodge. Luckily there were only certain places he'd be readily identified as a newcomer.

Unfortunately, one of those places was at his work, at Brooke's. He had to apologize to Iroh every now and then for stealing or inventory damage, or face corporations trying to intimidate the small music shop into affiliating with very tempting offers for expansion- but Joe was stubborn, and that worked to his advantage, in the end.

He wasn't entirely unconvinced that one day he would end up like Tifa, shot in the back of the head at lockup.

Luckily his darkness had a good sense for sniffing out its own; people who were bad news.