#protective clothing wholesale

[unitedventures]

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[lanejose4884]

Top 3 Trends in Private Label Sun Protection Clothing Production Followed by Top Wholesalers

Use sustainable fabrics like recycled polyester or organic cotton. https://www.wholesaleclothingmanufacturer.com/2024/08/top-3-trends-in-private-label-sun-protection-clothing-production-followed-by-top-wholesalers.html

[lori11hen2ry]

Sun Protected Sublimated Clothing In Wholesale

Stay safe and stylish with sun-protected sublimated clothing. Featuring custom prints and UPF-rated fabric, this apparel shields your skin while providing breathable, all-day comfort for outdoor adventures.

[harlowapollinia258]

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Ideal for various occasions, these shirts combine elegance and UV protection, suitable for work or leisure. https://www.bloglovin.com/@alanicglobal/wear-chic-stay-safe-advantages-uv-blocking

[alanicglobal]

Choose High Quality Sun Protection Clothing- Best Shield Against UV Rays

Due to prolonged exposure to the sun, there can be various diseases or even terminal illnesses like skin cancer although sunscreen is a defense, an effective solution to get complete protection is sun a protection clothing. These apparels are not only trustworthy safeguards for your skin but also help prevent a lot of sun damage and are very functional.

Defining the Role of Sun Protection Clothing

These garments come with special features that block or absorb the radiation. This sun protection clothing has UPF which is an ultraviolet protection factor integrated into it that helps the fabric to be thick and cut the penetrating radiation. The fabric quality is usually tight and comes with long sleeves, gloves and hats and a high collar.

Stating the Advantages of Having Sun Protection Clothing

Apart from protecting from harmful effects of the UV rays it is extremely breathable and comfortable and comes with fabric which is lightweight and has cool insulation even in hot weather these Sun protection clothing is made up of durable fabric that can be easily watched and goes on for a long time without any wear and tear.

Different Styles and Kinds of Sun Protection Clothing

This sun protection clothing comes in various kinds such as incorporating performance fabrics like airflow-enhanced and ventilation-prioritized fabrics. Among various prints and colors, sun protection clothing usually comes in light or subtle colors expressing personal style preferences. Trending are the pastel shades or white-based, neon border full-sleeve jackets with matching bottoms. Some of the sun protection clothing also comes with mesh detailing to keep it cool.

If you want to order such high quality and variety of sun protection clothing then order it from one of the leading sun protection clothing manufacturers.

[luizdavid2042]

Wholesale Sun Shirts

Only Teez offers high-quality wholesale sun shirts designed with UPF protection, perfect for outdoor activities and sports. https://www.onlyteez.com/wholesale/sun-protection-shirts/

[saniya8549]

UPF Clothing Manufacturers

These manufacturers use advanced, high-quality fabrics designed to block UV radiation while remaining breathable and comfortable. https://www.alanicglobal.com/manufacturers/uv-protection-clothing/

[lavishy]

From Viaggio (Italian for travel) collection designed by vegan brand LAVISHY established since 2001, this cool printed unisex key ring coin purse features vintage style illustration of elephant on the background of old map. It's fun, functional & fabulous. Made with Eco-friendly vegan materials that are toxic-free, recyclable and biodegradable. This unisex key ring coin purse is great for everyday use, travel as well as an unique gift for your friends and family. Exterior: Vegan/faux leather Interior: Nylon - with key ring to carry keys - 1 ID pocket at the back for driver's license or metro pass - can hold credit cards Measurement: 5 x 3.9 inch / 13 x 10 cm Wholesale available at www.lavishy.com to wide ranges of retailers including independent brick-and-mortar gift shops, clothing & fashion accessories boutiques, book stores, hotel/resort & airport/ferries gift stores, museum & botanical garden gift shops, flower shops & garden centers, online boutiques, & specialty retailers in Canada, USA & the rest of the world since 2001. Reasons for whey this unisex key ring coin purse is a wonderful lucky / good luck gift idea for your loved ones: The elephant with its trunk raised is indeed considered a symbol of luck and good fortune in various cultures, especially in Eastern societies such as India and Thailand. Here's why:

Strength and Power: Elephants are known for their immense strength and power. In many cultures, they symbolize strength, stability, and resilience. When depicted with their trunks raised, they are seen as asserting their strength and overcoming obstacles, which is considered fortunate.

Wisdom and Intelligence: Elephants are highly intelligent creatures, known for their problem-solving skills and strong social bonds. Their association with wisdom and intelligence adds to the symbolism of luck. It's believed that having the trunk up signifies wisdom and foresight.

Good Luck: In some cultures, the elephant's trunk is seen as a conduit for good luck and positive energy. When the trunk is raised, it is believed to be gathering positive energy and spreading it around, bringing good fortune to those nearby.

Fertility and Prosperity: The elephant is also associated with fertility and prosperity. In Hinduism, the elephant-headed god Ganesha is worshipped as the remover of obstacles and the provider of prosperity. The raised trunk symbolizes fertility and abundance, making it a popular motif in Indian households and businesses.

Overall, the elephant with its trunk raised is considered a powerful symbol of luck, prosperity, wisdom, and protection in many cultures, making it a popular choice for decorative and symbolic purposes. 

[mockiatoh]

Seeing a self-identifying radfem call a civilian woman being murdered, stripped of her clothes, and her dead body raped as “whatever is necessary to end occupation”. There really is no cause people won’t purport to support while being willing to abandon all morals for their hatred of whatever group they’ve patched into as not human. Women’s rights (as long as I don’t hate them and they aren’t political inconvenient.)

Past that one especially telling moment…

The justification for this, attacking women and children and the elderly in their homes, not as unintended casualties but as actual targets, is because a building was destroyed, AFTER warning was given so civilians could leave, resulting in ZERO injuries.

Is it impossible to do violence to a building, because a building isn’t capable of being harmed, or is the destruction of a building used to fire rockets a genuine inciting factor for civilians to be brutalized? For small children to be murdered?

For people to not just condone that but celebrate it as revolutionary and anti-colonist? Do you condemn the deliberate and wholesale slaughter of civilians or don’t you?

There is NEVER going to be a level of support any Jew can have for the Palestinian cause that is enough other that fully supporting the death and torture of Israelis. Because just pro-Palestinian Israelis posting about being scared for their lives or their families are being harassed and labeled traitors to the Palestinian cause or whatever. And for what? For not celebrating dead Israeli citizens.

Followed by “but did you weep for—” and it doesn’t matter if you genuinely have supported the Palestinian cause. I’m seeing people whose most recent mention of Israel was condemning Israel for not doing enough to protect a Palestinian lesbian from extremists violence as “zios” because… they took a moment to hurt over dead innocents attacked without warning on a holy day.

I shouldn’t be shocked with how leftists handle shit line this after all the time, it it’s still stunning.

[unitedventures]

SUPERIOR FR UNIFORMS FOR SAFETY AND COMFORT FROM UNITED VENTURES CO. LTD

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[lanejose4884]

Top 3 Trends in Private Label Sun Protection Clothing Production Followed by Top Wholesalers

High UPF ratings are a must, with wholesalers emphasizing certified protection levels in private label collections. https://www.wholesaleclothingmanufacturer.com/2024/08/top-3-trends-in-private-label-sun-protection-clothing-production-followed-by-top-wholesalers.html

[lori11hen2ry]

Wholesale Sun Protected Sublimated Clothing

Enjoy vibrant, long-lasting prints and UV protection with sun-protected sublimated clothing, perfect for outdoor activities and ensuring comfort and safety.

[harlowapollinia258]

Wholesale UV Protection Clothing

Offering bulk options with UV-blocking fabrics, these garments are perfect for outdoor enthusiasts, ensuring sun safety without compromising style or comfort. https://www.alanicglobal.com/manufacturers/uv-protection-clothing/

[galadrieljones]

Winter Season Three Word Prompts - bethyl, mountains + sun + red berries

Thank you for the prompt ^_^ This is a Christmas, fix-it retelling of “Alone.” You can also read this at AO3. 

Chicken Feathers

They found an old general store not far from the tracks, three weeks after the moonshine shack. Inside, it looked like somebody had been living in there for a while, keeping chickens. There were a dozen or more plucking around, laying their eggs in nests made of clothes and old newspapers. The feathers were everywhere.

"It's a damn boon," said Daryl.

They collected the eggs into shopping baskets that Beth found by the door. They worked quietly and diligently. It was like an easter egg hunt, said Beth.

Before this, they’d been on the road for a while. Last week, he'd almost fallen down a ravine when he stepped on a patch of loose dirt. The affair was dramatic, life and death. Beth screamed, but she wasn't strong enough to help him, and he had to drag himself back up the loose hillside, wholesale, climbing the root system of a monumental hickory. When he finally made it to the top, Beth was crying. She fell on top of him to sob, as if he were dead. He tried to comfort her, but their sounds had drawn walkers, and then, in her anger, she killed two of them, entirely without his help. He'd never seen her do that, but he was flat on his back, exhausted from the climb, and she was being protective. Something had happened between them at the moonshine shack that brought the focus down around the two of them, together, and their survival. Nothing was ever going to be the same, and what it had become, Daryl didn't really understand. But the way she'd protected him at that ravine made him realize what it was he had almost pushed away, by being such a dumb asshole for such a long time after they lost the prison. He would not make that mistake again.

Now, things were quiet. When things get quiet, you can look around, take inventory of your life. He liked being in that store with her, hunting for things. It was safe in there, and they hadn't been safe in a while. They didn't have to worry about walkers or ravines. It was sunny and cold with a big hole in the roof, looking like a slow motion collapse from water damage over time. The sun beams came in and fell upon her as she worked, foraging for the eggs. This was a good place, he thought, but the hole in the roof was terminal. Winter was coming, and they couldn't live there.

When they had collected all they could find, Beth had way more in her basket than he did. He'd never had an easter egg hunt before, he said. He didn't know the rules. She laughed at this, because it was a joke. But also, what he didn't tell her was that he had been distracted. He had spent most of that time looking at her instead, while she was looking for the eggs. It was hypnotic, like she'd been doing this her whole life, and he supposed, in some ways, considering her origins, she had. 

They found an old woman in the backroom who had died while handcuffed to a rocking chair. Looked semi-recent, and like she had shot herself in the head with a .44 magnum Colt revolver they found covered in dust on the floor. The gun reminded him of Rick. He picked it up, stuffed it in the back of his pants quickly, so Beth wouldn’t have to be reminded of Rick. It was just a useless relic, as there were no more bullets in the chamber.

Beth looked sad as Daryl calmly covered up the old woman with a picnic blanket from aisle 4. Beth held his hand and they stood in a moment of silence, in memoriam. She had held his hand two times before. When they were running from the burning shack, and then after he'd fallen down that ravine. But those had been for survival, staying together, he thought. This was something else. 

"Thank you for the chickens. And the eggs," said Beth, looking at the woman’s shape under the blanket with the red gingham pattern. He could tell she was saying more, inside her head, too. Maybe she was praying. Beth was very good at hiding her emotions. They spoke those days mostly by not speaking. Telepathy. Nobody would have thought this about her before, not really, but he knew it now. He knew her, and he wondered how many people there were left in this world could say that anymore.

They closed the door, locking it from the inside to keep away the animals. Daryl carved some nice, pretty letters into the door: R.I.P. And then he carved a little picture of a chicken and an egg. It was exacting and it took time. He was rusty. Beth watched, seeming impressed by his work, and this embarrassed him. Daryl felt strange whenever he was observed. It was difficult for him sometimes, acknowledging his own existence. So he put his knife away. "I used to do a lot of this," he said.

"Carving pictures in doors?"

"No," he said. "Just...carving."

"Really? Could you make things? Like animals and things?"

"Sometimes," said Daryl.

"You should make us something," she said. She was so easy-going in the way that she said it, he couldn't tell if she was serious. He couldn't tell if she was flirting or if she was just being nice. He had never known a girl like Beth before. So he just pocketed the sentiment and they went on their way.

  They traveled probably five or so miles that day before finding an old RV parked by a murky creek. The RV was in decent shape but had two dead dogs chained up out front that looked like they'd had a fight to the death. They hadn't been touched by walkers. You could tell. It was curious, this and the chickens back at the store. There weren't a lot of walkers here. It felt very abandoned, almost like they were frozen in time. Daryl stayed outside to bury the dogs. When he got into the RV, he found Beth, repurposing the curtains with a needle and thread, turning them into stockings.

"Stockings?" he said as he came in the door. "What are you making stockings for?"

"It's Christmas," said Beth. She was sitting in a small, green armchair with the stuffing exposed, looked like it was something straight out of the 1970s. "I been keeping a rough count of the days in my journal. I’m probably off by a week or so, but with the weather like it's getting? I think we're close."

"Christmas," said Daryl. He was examining the hinges on the front door. They were loose, but they would hold. It would work. "You think of everything.”

"Not everything," said Beth. 

While she spruced up the inside, making a space for beds, for sitting, Daryl went out to string up some metal cans and things for an alarm. It was getting later in the day. the trees were bare, and there were not many sounds in the atmosphere aside from the wind, and the murky creek, and the clanking of the cans on the nylon rope. They’d gathered three dozen eggs, plus they took with them three of the chickens for food. They couldn’t justify taking all of them. They thought they’d leave some for the next passers-through. Daryl plucked one of the chickens and cleaned it outside with the remainder of the light. They’d eat this one tonight, then smoke the rest tomorrow. 

As he was finishing up, something caught his eye down by the water. It was probably stupid to go ahead like this, but he didn't care. He skidded down the cold mud with his crossbow over his shoulder, ducked under a spruce. When he emerged, he saw a walker, caught up in some barbed wire, missing its legs, like maybe they’d been chewed off. The thing couldn’t move. It was real rotted. It had probably been there for months, grasping at the seasons, devoid of hope or decision. It was the first walker he'd seen in a while. 

He killed it quick, and as he yanked the arrow from its claggy skull, he saw the very thing he’d come down here for. Rose hips. A whole mess of them, big and plump. He set down his crossbow, whipped the bandana from his pocket, filled the thing with the rose hips. He scratched up his knuckles on the thorns, gathering as may as he could. It felt urgent, gathering these rose hips. Then he tied them up in the bandana, bursting, and tied the bandana to his belt, beside his knife.

Rose hips were red. They were festive and pretty, he thought. They looked like something you’d have at Christmas, and that was why he needed them.

  When he got back to the RV, Beth was singing a Christmas song, hanging the stockings on the wall next to the kitchen. It took him a minute to remember what song she was singing, but then it hit him. It was an oldie. “Blue Christmas” by Elvis Presley. 

“That’s real nice,” said Daryl, closing the door behind him, peaking through the window to make sure nobody, and nothing, had followed him back. 

"I thought my singing annoyed you."

“Ain't heard Elvis in a while. Merle liked him. Used to play his stuff constantly on this old Garrard turntable."

"My dad liked him, too."

"As for your stockings, I’m sorry we ain't got no chimney, no fireplace.”

“We’ll make do,” said Beth. She had taken her ponytail down, and she tucked the yellow hair behind her ears. She came over to help him. She hung the unplucked chickens by the stove, which was electric and no longer worked of course. “What do you got there?” She gestured to the bandana at his belt. "You find somethin?"

“Oh,” he said. He took it apart, showed her the plump, pretty red berries. “Rose hips. Saw ‘em, growing down by the creek.” 

“Rose hips?”

“Yeah. My mom, she used to used to put rose hips in jam. We didn't have a lot of money, and they grew crazy by where we lived. I thought maybe we could do that, or somethin else. I don’t know. Whatever you want.”

“Let’s try it,” she said, and she smiled so big, he knew he must have done well that day.

Outside, as the sun went down behind the hills and the pines in the distance, Daryl built a cooking fire. He put the bird on a spit, and meanwhile, Beth boiled the rose hips in a pan with some sugar leftover in a jar from the pantry. When the mixture got soft and juicy, she mashed it all up using a mortar and pestle she’d found in a cupboard inside. Then, she set about straining them through a mesh sieve, and she repeated this at least three times. He liked watching her make jam. They talked of this and that. They talked about nothing at all. When she finished, she poured the red concoction in a clear jar, and then she got up to go back into the RV. 

The sun was down now, and Daryl was by himself, but he could hear her singing through the aluminum walls, more Elvis. Oh, why can't everyday be like Christmas? 

When the bird was done cooking, Daryl put out the fire and went back inside to where Beth had unfolded a green blanket on the floor and set a couple place settings around a small collection of delicate votive candles set inside of small mason jars, burning at the center. The kitchen table was pretty busted up, so this would have to do. It was a right feast.

“Christmas bird, with rose jam,” she said.

“Better than any Christmas meal I had before.”

“Let’s eat.” 

  That night, they shared a bottle of Boone’s Farm Strawberry Hill, which Beth had scored back at the general store. It was warm and tasted like melted jello shots spiked with rail liquor, but Daryl drank some anyway, because there were candles, and it was cold in the RV, and just being there with her made everything feel warm and alive, like a party. He wasn’t that same guy he he had been back at the moonshine shack. Everything inside of him had grown up. He changed. With Beth, his brain got quiet. His past stayed put. He felt very calm, even in the throes of immense uncertainty. He wanted it to stay that way.

“When I was little, and it would be Christmastime, I used to wish we lived in the mountains,” said Beth, leaning against him in the RV. “All that snow. We could have cocoa and light a fire, go snow-shoeing.”

He put his arm around her. It was something he thought he’d done a bunch of times before, maybe back at the prison? Warm nights outside, when they’d play music and everybody would gather round and dance and enjoy time as a community. Hershel was there. Maggie and Glenn. Rick. Michonne. Carol. It was like belonging, he thought. Tonight felt the same.

She grabbed his hand, examining his knuckles. They were chopped up with white scars from his old life. He thought maybe she’d ask about it, but she didn’t.

“Will you come with me someday?” she said.

“Come with you where?”

“To the mountains. You can carve animals into our door.”

It made him happy, to think about Beth in the mountains. Her cheeks would be red, and she’d be wearing a wool scarf. “There’s a lot of mountains out there, Greene. Which ones you wanna go to?”

“I don’t know, Daryl,” she said. “Big, tall ones. The Rockies.”

“Northern or Southern?”

“Northern,” she said. “Let’s go to like, Montana. ”

He laughed. It was so out of left field he could not help but commit. “Yeah, we’ll go there,” he said, her hand holding his. “Someday. We will.”

He was staring across the room, across the light from the candles, glaring off the plates and their dismantled Christmas feast, and the unloaded shiny Colt .44 he’d scavenged back at the general store. Outside, the wind had started blowing. It shook the trees all around the RV and rustled the cans on Daryl’s alarm. This startled Beth, but he was pretty sure. “It’s just the wind,” he said. “Don’t worry.”

“I know,” she said, taking a deep breath. “I just--don’t you feel like this is too good to be true? I feel like I’m gonna wake up any minute. Like it’s a dream or something.”

“It’s an RV.”

“You know what I mean.”

He had his chin on top of her head. They were very warm now. “Yeah, I do.”

“Pretend like it’s really Christmas,” said Beth. “I mean, for all we know, it is. So just, pretend. Think. If it was really Christmas, and you could have anything you wanted, what would it be?”

Daryl did what she asked. He closed his eyes. He thought about it, but he couldn’t come up with anything better than what it was he already had. "I'm good," he said.

"Come on."

"I mean it," he said. "We could do with some better booze. Something that doesn’t taste like strawberry-flavored battery acid. But otherwise, I don't really want for much. I'm good."

She elbowed him in the ribs. It wasn't hard enough to really hurt. She said, "Be serious. Tell me. What do you want, Daryl?"

It was an immense question. It contained the cosmos. He took a deep breath, holding her eyes like little spears. They could hurt him. But still, he felt brave that night. 

“We should stay,” he said. 

“What?"

“We should stay,” said Daryl. “That's what I want. For us to stay here, through the winter.”

“Stay here? Really?"

“It’s quiet here. There’s not a lot of walkers around. I seen it. And I saw a well out back, too, when we first got here. I bet it still works. Plus, I think I could build us a chimney, so we could make fires inside. I done it before. In a double-wide I used to share with Merle in North Georgia, but not much difference in function. We could scavenge the parts. And if we get desperate for food, we got our own personal KFC not five miles south of here, free and clear and ready to go. What do you think?”

She was looking up at him, close range. A girl had never looked at him quite like that and it made him nervous, but he held his ground. She had protected him. Maybe this meant he deserved her.

“You’re serious,” she said.

“You told me to be serious,” he said. “I am. Staying off the road, it’s safer this way. Then the moment them magnolias bloom, we get up and go. We find Rick, the others. I got a feeling, Beth. If we hunker down, they will, too.”

“Like, we’re connected.”

“Yeah. Like that.”

“You’re different,” she said. “You’ve changed.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“No,” she said. “I’m just surprised.”

Then she pushed all the hair out of his eyes, and off his face. He waited, perfectly still, his heart choking, constricted by chains and stars, because he knew what was going to happen next. He knew. He just still had a hard time believing it. She kissed him. It was a soft kiss, warm on the surface of their mouths, but it pulled everything he had right out of his chest, so that his center was suddenly empty, and he was light. Like a balloon, like chicken feathers at the general store. 

When it was over, Beth was quiet.

“What was that for?” he said. He still hadn’t moved. Not a damn muscle.

“I just wanted to,” she said. “I’m sorry. Is that okay?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said.

  It was a long winter. Through it all, Beth and Daryl stayed together, and they never got cold. Daryl built a chimney, and Beth made jam, and she lit candles every night, praying, sending signals into the world with her telepathy. We will not fade away, she prayed. Maggie. Rick. Glenn. Michonne. Carol. Tyreese. Sasha. Bob. Carl. Judith. Anybody out there? Anybody at all. Stay put. Can you hear me? Can you hear us through the stars. We’re alive. Both of us. Daryl and Beth. We’re here. We're together. We’re alive.

[luizdavid2042]

Custom UV Blocking Dress Shirts

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[reservoirreputation]

Teaser for my ResDogs fic, posting on AO3 10/1

Title: 'Birds in the Spider’s Nest' (end of chapter one)

tags for the teaser: canon typical violence, canon typical language, implied child abuse

1974

Vic Vega is led into a nice office, where two men already sit. Spotting him being escorted by the henchman, they both stand. The man behind the desk is the infamous Joe Cabot, and, if Vic plays his cards right, his future boss. The guy is tall, imposing, reminds him a bit of a bulldog. The guy in front of the desk, next to the empty chair meant for Vic, seems to be the complete opposite; he’s quite short, but stocky. Much younger than the big guy, and actually looks quite kind. Vic notes to watch his back around this one; kindness was always an ominous sign, as far as he’s concerned.

Joe gestures for him to sit, then gives his attempt at a smile, “Mr. Vega. You come highly recommended. Your brother has nothing but good things to say.”

“A miracle, really.” is his dry reply, because Vic and his brother rarely get along.

“Maybe he thinks you’re qualified, maybe he just wants you to get some work and fail miserably. Either way,” he looks up and down at Vic’s imposing height, “You’ve got potential. You interested in interning?”

It’s the most exciting thing to happen to Vic in years, “Sure.”

“This here’s Larry Dimmick.” The man to Vic’s left gives a polite nod, a slight smile, like he knows he’s gotta handle him with kid gloves, “He’ll be your mentor.”

The first week of on-the-job training is interesting, to say the least. The first day was nothing but talking and driving, meeting some people in very public places, making small talk while Vic waited in the car with the windows rolled down. The next two days involved even more driving, but with Dimmick going into various buildings; houses, apartments, small businesses. Again, Vic not allowed anywhere near the conversations. Day four of being on his best behavior, Dimmick looks over and says, “If you can keep your mouth shut you can tag along for the next meeting.”

Vic doesn’t respond with anything more than a nod.

‘Meeting’ turned out to be a shake down, with some associate being behind on payments. Three months worth. Vic could feel dread build in the pit of his stomach, but still wears his best poker face. He’s been pretending he doesn’t give a fuck about any awful thing since he was ten, this would be no different. So, when Dimmick and another heavy grab the bastard’s arm, smacking his hand on a flat surface, he’s expecting to see broken fingers. When Dimmick gets out a knife, instead, Vic can’t help but look away.

The sound of steel cutting through flesh and bone will haunt him just as much as the man’s screams.

As the weeks wear on, Vic’s exposed to more of the inner workings of the business. He meets various employees, most of whom are very out of the loop about Joe’s activities. It’s a silent lesson; the people around you only know as much as you allow them to. The debt collectors don’t need to know the same things as the accountants, despite how connected the two are. The wholesalers don’t need to know everything about the dealers, and they’re meeting one such of the latter, right now.

Larry’s a protective sort, despite being much shorter than Vic. Every new face Vic comes across, Larry insists on leading, physically keeping Vic behind him. So, when they meet a pot dealer named Matty, also a short fuck, Vic just feels like an overgrown freak.

Larry doesn’t quite like Matty. That much is obvious. Later on, Larry will say to him that not many people do, because Matty’s a bit of a screwup. The initial meeting, though, the guy seems quite nice.

The dope dealer is about Larry’s age, maybe younger. He has light brown hair, a thin face. Skin is freckled and pale, and eyes a striking green. He wears jeans ripped at the knees, a loose t-shirt and an even bigger plaid button-up over this, like the guy’s permanently wearing someone else’s clothes. He stinks a bit of pot, but of the good stuff. His expression is tired, like he doesn’t get enough sleep. Like he doesn’t get enough of anything. Where Larry comes across as being in control, Matty seems like he’s just along for the ride. Vic can’t help but see part of himself in the dealer, the kind of instant connection when you see someone who’s the same kind of fucked up as yourself.