REROCK

Fresh off the boat from Detroit. Fully stocked. Extremely talkative.

ReRock rolled into Twisted Terrace from Detroit and set up shop like he'd lived there his whole life — recliner, cash roll, product always moving. Nobody appointed him the neighborhood plug. He just sort of became it.

He smokes more of his own supply than he sells, which might explain the conversations. ReRock loves to talk, and he'll ask you a question just to answer it himself before you can get a word out — by the time he's done, you've had a whole conversation and said maybe four words total.

Somehow he's the nicest guy on the block. He'll help you move a couch, jump your car, watch your kids for twenty minutes, all for free. Ask for a nickel bag though, and suddenly he remembers he runs a business. Five bucks. Every time. No exceptions.

For a guy who deals in cash, he's weirdly bad at hanging onto it — which is why he keeps Hebriel on speed dial for financial advice. An eleven-year-old managing a grown man's money isn't ideal, but Hebriel hasn't steered him wrong yet.