"It's like that here! If you want to buy, then pay up Tins or move away. Don't disturb my customers."
Crey had an odd expression on his face as he walked out of the random shop after getting scolded by the shopkeeper. They were selling things but had no intention of revealing where they outsource such items.
Moreover, the currency of FED coins was not very popular here, instead, the local planetary currency 'Tins' seemed to be more prominent and widely used. If you don't have Tins, then surely it is going to be a pain in as* to navigate this city by yourself.
Not so interestingly, Crey had neither dollars nor FED coins and thus could only digest the scolding meekly. Also because he had no watch or identity too. He was just a shell of a man whose clothes were his last assets in the name of the property. That too has been gifted to him by Allan Trumann's 'Sparta' parcel to help him blend in.
'At least I got a taste of things!'
