It doesn't take long for Kal to find a single-storey place sharing an alley with a scrapyard. It has all the obvious signs. The pilfered gutter, the sickly chem smell and the constant coming and going of ragged people. A skinny white guy with with a black, vaguely aboriginal tattoo that covers his entire face is perched outside the side door, looking pretty faded as a cigarette burns to the filter between his fingers.