FAHC Gavin origin

By the age of 10, Gavin was no stranger to pick-pocketing. He mostly went after wallets, but he would occasionally snag expensive looking jewelry to sell at a pawn shop on the shady side of town that was willing to turn a blind eye to his… method of acquiring said jewelry.

At age 10, Gavin had been on the streets for two years, having run away from his parents when they were on a trip to the States.

At age 10, Gavin got his first taste of the beauty of polished gold.

He was down by the  ocean, looking for unattended bags and wallets. It was cold by local standards, so there were only a few tourists enjoying a day at the beach. He wandered down the shoreline, no one even sparing him a glance. Who would? A kid strolling down the beach is hardly an unusual sight.

He saw them sitting on a rock next to two blue beach chairs. Two beautiful gold wedding bands. The couple had probably taken them off to avoid losing them in the waves. Gavin grabbed them without a moment of hesitation.

It wasn’t until later, when he was making his way to the pawn shop that he actually stopped to look at the rings.

They were plain wedding bands. The only difference between the two being a few small diamonds embedded in the smaller one.

They were gorgeous.

There was something about the way the sunlight reflected off the smooth surface… he suddenly couldn’t bring himself to sell them.

Looking back, it was highly impractical for him to keep those rings. He could have easily gotten a couple hundred for them, and in the years to come there were many instances where he really needed that kind of money. They didn’t even fit on his boney fingers. He had to keep them in the pocket of his dirty jeans.

Nevertheless, those rings stayed in his pocket, along with several other golden treasures that he collected from that day on.

He was comparable to a magpie; always finding and hoarding shiny objects like bracelets and rings.

When he was 14, he found himself searching for half decent food in a dumpster behind a popular restaurant when a man in an expensive looking suit walked by. The man was tall, and he carried himself like he was someone important. Most importantly, a beautiful gold watch was clasped around his wrist.

He was exactly what Gavin looked for in a target.

He hopped out of the dumpster with a sigh, trying to sound as disappointed as possible without being overly obvious. Walking towards the man, he allows himself a moment to be excited about his find. After six years on the streets, he’s gotten remarkably good at pick-pocketing. The past couple years he’s managed to only get caught once or twice, and only when he was being particularly careless and cocky.

He’s unclasping the watch when a strong hand grabs his wrist. Gavin’s eyes widen as he looks up at the man. He has a long, curled moustache on his upper lip, and blue eyes so bright that Gavin feels trapped in his gaze.

The man smiles. Gavin feels afraid.

“Hey there, buddy. Whatcha doing with my watch?”

This isn’t the first time Gavin’s been caught like this, but it is the first time he’s felt frightened. Still, he has a system in place for when this sort of things happens, and it’s always worked in the past.

Gavin starts to tear up.

“Please,” he whimpers, “Please don’t hurt me. I- I’m sorry! I just- I haven’t eaten in so long and I… Please don’t hurt me. I just… I’m so hungry.”

The man doesn’t stop staring at him, but he does loosen his grip.

“You’re good at that.” he says.

Gavin wipes his eyes with his free hand and looks up at the man with wide eyes.

“Good at what?”

The man grins. “This whole situation. You’re good at snatching things, and you’re certainly good at talking your way out of things. For a kid at least.”

The man let’s go of Gavin’s arm and holds out his hand.

“Geoff Ramsay, and you are?”


“Well, Gavin, how would you like a job?”

“What sort of job?”

“Whatever you want really. We can start you off with some pick-pocketing, maybe move up from there if you feel comfortable. I can promise that whatever you choose, it’ll pay well.”

“…How well?”

“Couple thousand a week at the least.”

Gavin’s eyes widen. Without a second thought he grasps Geoff’s hand tightly.

“You’ve got yourself a deal!”

Geoff smiles again and gestures for Gavin to follow him. As Gavin falls into step beside him, he reaches into his pocket and fiddles with his treasures. This was the start of something good. He could feel it.

  • Gavin: Throw some shit into the wind, or whatever that phrase is, what is it?
  • Geoff: Caution? Throw some shit into the caution?
  • Gavin: There you go.
  • Michael: Yeah, just piss into the wind.
  • Ray: Don't do that, it'll come back into your mouth.
  • Michael: That's what you're trying to do.
  • Gavin: Don't drink yellow piss.
  • Ray: The clear stuff is good though.
  • Geoff: Well, it's hydrated.