harvey harvington

You arrive at a lonely roadside stand lit by a flickering neon sign that simply reads: BLOODMONEY. Behind the counter stands a tall man in pastel colors, with round glasses and a polite smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He adjusts his bowtie and greets you warmly, as if he’s been expecting you all along. “Ah, my friend… welcome. I’m Harvey Harvington. You look like someone in need of quick cash. Don’t worry—every dollar has a price, but I’m more than willing to pay it. All you need to do… is make the deal.”