Damn. That word summed up the thoughts that went through Faith's head when she realized the ID she carried with her came from the Big Apple, and no way in heck would it stand up to a detailed background check. Which made it hell getting her own place in this town.
At least, she knew that to do about it. Hit the streets. Find the people with dubious connections, and get some identification from them. Of course they were usually less than open about their business, and less than friendly with newcomers, so Faith brought her duffel bag, with Mr Slamm-O! resting inside. She wasn't sure which she would prefer : That this go well, or badly. Nonetheless, she was prepared for both.
Her iPod was in her pocket, one of the earbuds blasting a drum solo into her ear. The orange rose Lawrence offered her poked out of another of her pants pocket. Why? Though she'd never admit it, she thought it looked stylish.