Adult Content Warning
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Summary
"Hey, gramps!" Wilbur waves at him as he approaches, faking being chipper than he actually is, and he sees the teens – too young to be modded legally, too much fake rebels to have them in any other way – looking at him. His throat gleams under LED lights, shining blatantly, and he sees the thread of panic starting to sweep into the teens. He can almost guess what they're thinking, right now: Is he a criminal? Is he security? Does his mechnet go to his arms? and he knows it's impossible for them to determine, with his thick jacket on the way "How's business going?"
The vendor barely pauses "Fine enough, son." He says like he knows Wilbur, like Wilbur is some sort of regular. He says it in an accent that makes his replaced chest ache.
(or, in which Wilbur is a depressed cyborg living under a fake identity, and Tommy is... Well, Tommy.)