169 Shades of Grey(Abeiya, Toph13139, and CS123)

((OHFEARAND/VS.RESPECT. I dub thee one theme of this roleplay.))

Damir was still on his floor, waiting for the constantly noticeable agony within his body to subside to some manageable level. He was running out of medication, and the next payment seemed tenuous to reach. It simply didn't seem possible. Instead, he drank the last few sips of the amber liquid he'd gone to great lengths to obtain for the lowest possible price. The entire bottle was gone in under twenty minutes, when he was taking his time. It was all that resembled any sustenance in his apartment outside of his bathroom cabinet. But that was so far from the kitchen floor. Instead of standing, he laid down, cringing at the effort to do so. This apartment was his safehouse and his prison, yet he could no longer find a reason to attempt to break out.

---

Amira smiled as her friend brought her to her bright yellow car. She was very Sunshine, every time she saw her, she thought of those bright homes, how they reminded her of children's drawings.

"That would be.... great!" she replied, as brightly as possible. It always amazed her, the way her friend seemed to live in the bubble that was the Medley all the time. She couldn't imagine driving through Mono and feeling the same way. A swimsuit was the last thing she needed. Her thoughts were abuzz with whatever John had planned for the night. It didn't matter, however. No matter how far into her own world Emilia went, Amira did enjoy her company. And she understood the reasoning behind her ignorance, behind that world she maintained. It wasn't too long ago that, in spite of their massive differences, that she hadn't been entirely connected to reality.

Her expression seemed to fade. Out the window, she saw a youth dressed in slates and blues, contrasting against the richer hues of the Bloom sector. But in only a moment, he too ceased to be visible.

In the rearview mirror, another glimpse of his expressionless face.

She knew that Emilia wouldn't see him. This image belonged to only her, was frozen in snapshots for her parents at home. But in the photographs, he was alive.

Swallowing, she tried to face the street ahead of them, but it did nothing to prevent him from coming to her. In her mind, she saw him fall.

----
The parking lot always held a substantial amount of vehicles. There were some here that never stopped working. Lane would have been one of them, had he not been in school. He wanted to do more at his work in order to earn more, was constantly looking for places that would hire him. It was the iron and ash shades of his clothing, his residence listed on his identification card, that employers saw first, then the list of accommodations he required. There were laws against certain kinds of discrimination, but the ones involving color only served to encourage it.

As he started to the gate to leave, he noted Callan's car still in the lot; he'd expected her and Ares to have left by now.

That unsettling feeling from seeing them together again brought him nearer to the vehicle. He knocked on the window, hoping not to disturb her, but he couldn't quell his concern. Callan did seem like a decent person. He shouldn't have said what he had in regards to both of them.

"Callan? Hey... sorry about this, but... um, I'm sorry about what I said back there. I just... I didn't mean anything about you. I honestly appreciated this. I just wanted to um... are you okay?"
---
Kameran approached Max with her confident, quick stride, as if she were as tall and built as he, as if she didn't resemble a twelve-year-old boy in a man's clothing. It was how she almost always carried herself on the streets, but especially around any sort of authority.

"Huh. I'm surprised I haven't heard of your arrest on the grounds of those eyes alone. Wow. So, you wanted to hear about my neighbor? Got anything else you want me to take care of?"
((will continue later))

Callan was checking her cell phone, a thin steely box, for messages. Nothing important. Nothing important enough to leave and go do. Maybe there was a lab she could complete at the college? No. Nothing would be open. She didn't have a dormitory and hadn't made any friends close enough to crash with at school. She would have to tough it out for the night.

She inspected the darkening red marks where he had gripped her arm.

The knock on her window came as a shock. She jumped and shrank away from the noise, heart accelerating. She looked up to see that it was only Lane. She quickly pulled her jacket sleeves down to cover her arm. She exhaled, put on a mask of composure and rolled down the window.

"I honestly appreciated this. I just wanted to um... are you okay?"

She forced a smile, "It's okay, Lane. And yes, I'm fine."

----

Gale paused for moment, biting his lip in thought. "No, actually," he said after a few seconds, "No. I'm bored. And I'm coming over there. I'll... see you soon, okay?"

He refused to give Allan time to answer and hung up the phone.

(("Let's see. Your entire persona changes when your boyfriend touches you, and now that I think about it, with your profession being a college student, there would be no way you could afford this car and that jacket. Elaborate honeymoon phase gifts, I assume. Your anxiety idling here in this parking lot seems like enough evidence on its own. Grab your passport and we can head into Mono for a while."))

Her expression was forced, even practiced. And the brief moment of her arm's exposure only seemed to confirm Lane's growing suspicions.

"Are you sure?" he replied, gently conveying concern. She didn't seem so reserved, so submissive, in their shared courses. Studious, focused, one of the few who seemed genuinely concerned with the material being presented to her. But he knew little else about her, beyond brief moments in the office.

Kameran used to crawl under tables, beds, hide in the cabinets as a child when their aunt and uncle came to take her, on their occasional visits. She used to draw, not speak at all, in that time. But when they arrived, called her name, pulled her out, she simply followed.

When he began to notice the red marks on her body, the bruises on her tiny wrists, her back, in places where she would have never received them from falling, it had seemed like it was too late.

He needed to get home.

"I... look, I know we don't really know each other. That... this isn't really acceptable behavior, what you did today. And I won't try to take advantage of you, but... and this is none of my business, but you seem... distressed. Is there anything I could do...?"

The degree in Social Work was for more than just Kameran. It was worth more than the sneers and snickers of peers and the doubt and scoffs of jaded professors. More than just Mono.

((MYCHARACTERS.WhyalltheMessiahcomplexes.))

((Lolit'ssotrue. And, Alyyyy. With the savingggss.))

Phoenix considered coming clean for a moment, but she quickly decided it was not the right thing to do. Ares would be waiting for her at home. Maybe if she was careful, he would calm down tonight. That was all she could hope. If not, she would handle him on her own.

"Thank you very much for your concern, Lane," she said, adjusting her white-knuckled grip on the wheel. She bit the inside of her cheek and then released, looking through the windshield instead of out the window at him. "I'm just a little stressed out with work from school. I'll be alright, though, no need to worry. I'll see you soon." She offered another practiced smile.

And with that she rolled up the window again and pulled away, headed toward the apartment. The engine purred and she cranked the music up loud, trying to drown out own thoughts.

((Yesss..X.x'))

Lane easily saw through Callan's words, her dishonesty clear in her voice, the smile she plastered upon her face expertly rehearsed.

"Alright. Yeah, I'll see you soon," he replied, sighing as she left the parking lot. The bus stop was a while away, and the streets were darkening with alarming speed. He took the route he knew the best to reach the stop and began to wait. Kameran. Was she even home now?

When the bus finally arrived, he stepped in and opened up a textbook, straining to make the text legible. There was a long night ahead.

The young man tilted his head to the side as he saw his new employee approach. She had the confidence of a 40-year-old business man, walking down the halls of his own company. He liked that about her. Made her stand out. Yet, he could tell that whatever sass she had going on in her favor wasn't strong enough to crack the walls of Red Eye's system. She was a flame he could control.

His smirk grew wider at the girl's complete dismissal of his eyes. Nothing but a smartass comment about his eyes in terms of the law. He chuckled. "Well, Aren't you somethin', Miss Kameran." Max waited in silence until the bus arrived to their station. He didn't hop in until Kameran was inside first and made sure she got a seat as soon as one was free for her to take. Usually, by this hour, public transportation was hard to find. They were all afraid of getting into Mono, and as usual, the bus was cramped. He could notice everyone trying to take a peak to his eyes. They wanted to see if they were contacts and were probably thinking on how to steal them. He leaned in closer to Kameran's ear, and whispered the answer her question.

"I always keep 'em covered... Tonight being a very rare exception. Besides," he gripped the plastic handles to keep him from losing his balance as the bus took a rough turn. "It's not like the city belongs to them anymore, right?"

---------------------------

Emilia turned on the radio as she pushed down the gas pedal. She moved her body to the beat of the music, drummed her fingers against the wheel and sang along with the artist. She did, however, notice her friend's façade fall a little as they drove down the Bloom sector main street. Something was in Amira's mind, Emilia could tell that much, and those thoughts had nothing to do with fun in the beach. She turned off the radio as they approached the entrance of Mono, an unfortunate short cut they had to take if they wanted to make it back in time for dinner. Emilia took a deep breath as the colors changed from soft hues of reds and greens to an almost obscurity.

Emilia took her cell phone from her purse and threw it on Amira's lap. "If something happens, press the red button three times, alright?" She didn't want to let her friend know that she was scared of being in such a dark neighborhood, but it was obvious she was. The way everyone looked at her car pass by as if it were an illusion, a lie. Emilia decided to shake off those thoughts. "So, Amira... What's going on, girl?" She patted the other's leg. "You suddenly seem so down. Cheer up. Or if you wanna talk about it. What happened? Is it John?"

----------------------

"No wait--!" It was too late. Gale hung up the phone in the other line and he lived only three floors above him. Allan had to be quick and clean this piece of shit of apartment before his friend came down and saw it like this. Not that he cared, really, but there were still certain red stains that needed to disappear. Allan quickly got up from the floor and sprinted to the bedroom. The white sheet that was covering the mattress still had the drying stain of blood on it, that had unfortunately seeped its way to the mattress as well. He had no other choice but to rip the bed naked, throw the sheets in the corner and flip the mattress. Ignore the mess, it doesn't matter.

He returned to the living room to retrieve the white heels and the black pantyhose that belonged to Ginou, ran back to the bedroom and threw it inside the closet. The rest of the uniform joined those first two garments just by the time Allan heard a knock on the door. The young man took a deep breath and closed the closet door. He walked out to open the door and let his friend in; the phone was still on the kitchen floor, same as the empty jug. It doesn't matter. The mess doesn't matter. He opened the door. "... Hey."

Lane realized that it would be a while before the bus would actually take anyone into his neighborhood, and as cramped as the space was, as loud and as quiet but unpleasant others were around him, he needed to focus. It would not bode well for him to pull out his laptop, however old the Berry district resident's disposal was, it would definitely sell where they were.

On 79th, the usual mass of passengers stepped on.
---
Kameran capped her satisfied expression, in order to keep at least some favor with the Red Eye ringleader. She was surprised at whatever courtesy he was displaying when he permitted her seat, but couldn't find any reason to refuse.

When he whispered her reply, she nodded briefly, before being sucked into the wall by the sharpness of the recent turn.

With his last sentence, she chuckled as well, allowing her smirk to grow.

"Of course," she replied. The gangs were powerful, but the Red Eye provided most of what the Monos, Slates, Charcoals, and everyone else in their general vicinity wanted. Color.
---
The turn sent the enormous gathering of paper flying into the wall, knocking it into the floor as the bus straightened again. Before Lane could grab the book, it slid to the seats behind him; by the sound of it, the large text had landed itself somewhere near the back of the bus. In frustration, he attempted to find it below, but it was little use to attempt to find the book amongst the masses.

Dizzying himself from looking under the seats, Lane returned to the unfortunate lighting of the bus only. From the front of the bus, however, there was one unmistakable snicker. The bleached hair and oversized grey t-shirt matched the young, cocky voice.

Kameran.

The man who held the handle beside her did not seem like any character to be hanging around, either.

"Sir, would you like to sit down?" he said, to the man standing before him, holding a handle next to his seat. The man shrugged, and Lane took up his bag before standing himself. For whatever ill it would do, he removed the thick-lensed glasses he had purchased at an appointment longer ago than he'd cared to remember, replacing them with an equally aged pair of a shaded prescription. The dimmed light offered a challenge on its own, but was an improvement compared to the darkness spotting a far too brightly lit location.

As politely and unobtrusively as possible, he edged toward the front, perhaps as if his stop were approaching. He stopped two seats away from his sister and the man.

This man was familiar, but certainly not of their Mono neighborhood. Something about him indicated, struck Lane, as Red Eye. What was Kameran doing with him? After all this time, he'd at least assumed she was working with someone in their... territory.
---
Kameran continued to respond to Max as she found advantageous, but kept her eye on the individuals beyond them. They'd looked at her aisle-mate's eyes as if they were determining a price. Had she not associated with him, she probably would have done the same. Regardless of his eye color, he did stand out as albino, no matter how much he tried to cover it up. She wondered if any of his appearance had caused him any trouble before.

In her peripheral vision, a recognizable figure approached the front of the bus.

God. Lane's lack of subtlety never ceased to amaze his sister. She tried not to acknowledge him, but she was visibly annoyed. Had he been there the whole time? She should have noticed him in the first place. Carrying on as if he wasn't someone recognizable would not be a challenge for Kameran, but there was the matter that he'd discovered her here with someone suspicious. Hiding her activities was usually simple with her brother's usual occupation.

"Excuse me, miss?"

I'll push you out the damn window.

"Could you tell me where we're stopping next? I'm having trouble reading the schedule..."

Resist. She had to resist replying how she wanted to.

"100th street, sir."

"Why thank you, young woman. I am thoroughly pleased that you answered my question."

"Not. A problem. I'd advise you to take the next available seat, sir, if you're not planning on leaving the bus very soon. It may be easier for you to anticipate sharp turns if seated."

She gestured to the nearest open seat, several rows behind them.

"That's quite alright, I think I prefer standing right now."

"Alright. Are you sure you didn't leave anything where you were before? You must want to make sure."

Watching his expression change minutely, she knew she had him on this one.

"I'll be just fine, thank you."

She glowered briefly at the young man before standing herself, directing her next words to Max.

"Would you like to sit down for a minute?"
---
Amira quickly returned to the present, with the unease of her own friend. She could tell that Mono scared her, the way she shook, threw her phone with such veiled panic. The people here wouldn't hurt her, at least if she kept driving. She would have stared at the banana-colored vehicle with such dubiousness had she been on those streets.

The pat on the leg woke her even further. Still, the boy in the backseat wanted to be somewhere in her line of sight. So she appeased him, watching his eyes, the same color as hers, but so much younger.

"N-No... everything's fine. John and I are great. I'm just... well, I'm just a little worried about his work. He's very busy. I'm proud of him, I really am, but I just don't know if it's so healthy for him."

She loved his work. His dedication. She liked that he was busy, nearly all the time, that nights like this one were rare. They spent so little time in that wonderfully decorated apartment. Yet she was content with the time they did spend together, wherever they were at the time. It was about being with him. The admiration she had was reciprocated.
---
John hoped that Amira would arrive in time for his plan to unfold, but he was content to accomplish it at another time, even if that time was midnight of the upcoming day. As scheduled as his life was, he was level enough to handle changes. He didn't expect all of his plans to go as he intended for them.

Taking his cell phone in his pocket, he dialed an advertiser to check on the progress of a project he'd been collaborating on. The center downtown needed to receive a lot of eye-catching publicity in order to be effective. He was wary of certain types of advertisement, but this company was trustworthy and he was overjoyed that they would support anything that would provide accurate education about the obvious conditions in some parts of the city.

And even provide it to those who lived there.

With the phone between his shoulder and his head, he took his bicycle down the hall and decided to carry it down the stairs in a rapid, graceful sprint.

Max raised an eyebrow at the seemingly hostile conversation between Kameran and the stranger. He could tell that the girl had an attitude and that not everyone would reach her good side. She was also an expert in buttering up her words to appeal the audience, so to speak. Max admired the girl for being smart, ambitious and decisive; that's exactly what they needed over at Red Eye. Max turned around to look at the intruder with cold, red eyes. If there was one thing he didn't like was being interrupted when he was making business. However, he left it like that, as Kameran obviously had everything under control. And something else told him that she knew this man on a personal level.

Max turned back to Kameran when she spoke to him. Suddenly the girl's size and age became relevant in the situation. Max was sure Kameran was intending to get into a fight with this man and he wasn't about to see a little girl get her ass kicked... For no reason, that is. The Red Eye leader turned back to the stranger, yet his words were not meant for him. "Do you want me to take care of him, though? You should enjoy the ride. We're almost there, after all."

-------------------

The young Sunshiner was still looking at every single mirror her car possessed making sure no Monochromatics were following them. Her friend's words only arrived to her ear by bits, she wasn't paying much attention to Amira's problems. She knew the answer to her question. John wasn't a problem. John was never a problem. But the sound of another's voice while driving down this God forsaken town was what kept her calm. After Emilia thought Amira was done talking, she gave her the best neutral reply she could come up with.

"Oh, well, that sounds wonderful, Amira," she said, her voice shaking slightly as her knuckles turned white around the wheel. Emilia swallowed dry again and gave her friend another saccharine smile. "But if you're so worried, why didn't you invite him? I could've brought Nicholas with us. He never has a problem with it." Plus, Nicholas was strong and muscular and having two men as pretend bodyguards wouldn't have hurt at the moment.




((oh god, emilia, why are you this way))

((Somanylol. EMILIA. EMILIA. xD WHY. "For no reason" Also, we could name the districts "Schemes" like Color Schemes.))

"No, that will be fine, I'll handle this," Kameran said, standing in spite of the man's protestations. As much as Lane aggravated her, she wasn't about to let him have his ass kicked by a gang leader.

---
Lane only wanted to know what Kameran was doing here, with the company she seemed to be keeping. It seemed like she went deeper and deeper into the world of Mono that he never wanted her to be a part of every single day. He knew she didn't appreciate his concern and the way he showed it, but he refused to give up. He was surprised by the obvious scarlet shade of the man's eyes, but he did not respond. He knew he was being threatened by the man when he turned away and suppressed any indication of that knowledge so as not to show his fear. He wasn't the strongest of all males of his particular age and build, and he could hold his own with some, but this man seemed experienced enough that he could take him out in one move.
---
Kameran stood in the aisle and faced her brother, gesturing them further from Max.

"What are you doing here?" she said, her voice low and frustrated.

"I could ask the same of you. Who is that man and what are you doing with him?"

"It's just business, Lane, why don't you go home and study?"

"Kameran. I do not want you associating with the... the gangs in Mono. You can't do these things casually..."

"No fucking way, Lane. You think your secretary job pays for that bogus license you're working on at school? You think a degree's a way out of Mono? This is how you survive here."

The bus jolted to a halt. The siblings, in the heat of their discussion had neglected to hold onto anything, unsteadily stepped back, before falling to the floor to the ire of the strangers behind them.

Kameran glared one last time at her brother.

"Don't follow," she muttered, before wiping dust from her pants and walking back to the front.

"Ready to go?" she said when she arrived at Max.
---
Lane lost Kameran in the crowd of the people stepping over him to leave. It took a few moments to regain footing and return to his seat. His book as probably trampled by this point. He figured that if he could go to the front of the bus, he could likely go back. The floor would again become inevitable in such a search.

As quickly as possible, he returned to it, uncaring of the people he ran into as he reached for the book in the fourth seat from the last, and sprinted to the front of the bus, the doors about to close.

Most of the crowd had gone, but he wouldn't let Kameran get away so easily again. This was far out of his usual behavior, far more than he'd likely be able to handle without careful thought, but then again, there was a time when such caution became a danger on its own.

Callan pulled the car into the garage. She didn't want to go inside yet. So she cut the engine and walked around the car to the trunk. Popped it with the fob and took out some glass cleaner and a nylon rag. Meticulously, she went about cleaning each and every glass surface of the car until she could see her translucent reflection.

Then she went back into the trunk, trying to be quiet as possible. Soft cloth and dusting foam in hand, she dusted the entire interior of the car and cleaned the leather seating. The entire vehicle smelled clean, antiseptic.

She liked it that way.

And then she knew there was nothing more she could do. She went to open the door and was surprised to find that it was unlocked. Her steps fell quietly on the hardwood floor, after she closed her hatch to escape to the outside.

"Ares?" she called.

"Up here."
---

Gale didn't bother to look in the mirror before he left. He knew that no matter what he did, he would always look like he was working all day. He never got enough sleep and it always haunted his visage. He grabbed his keys off of his tiny stainless steel kitchen table and headed out the door, covering his unruly short hair with a newsboy cap.

He strode quickly down the hallway and to the stairs. He was not a fan of the elevators in their rundown apartment building. It had a habit of locking people inside it between floors for hours on end. And he didn't have that kind of time.

The knocks on Allan's door were strong and quick. All business. He was unfazed by his friend's slightly disheveled appearance. "Hi, there," he said, slipping past Allan into the apartment, his hand clutching the brim of his hat as he slid under the other boy's arm. Messy as usual.

---

The keys jingled as Peris jammed them into the lock of the bookstore, coffee cradled in the other arm. She hated being outside when it was this late. She loved Chrom, but she very seldom felt safe when she was out of her store. She sighed in relief as the door came open and she retreated into the darkness.

Instead of turning on the lights downstairs, she pocketed her keys and used her cellphone to guide her to the ladder that climbed to the loft where she stayed on nights like these. When she just wanted to be alone with all the paper and some candles. And lay in bed.

And breathe.

Amira tried to keep her voice level, her face agreeable with her friend's words. The woman's fear was so obvious. Having visited Mono enough with John on his particularly investigative journalistic ventures had not exactly given her immunity to its fearful structures; rather, she'd seen more of it than most from Sunshine or the center scheme had, enough to make anyone else terrified. But it only gave her awareness. If they were out on the street, she could probably find her way out.

"Yeah, maybe I should have told him that. It's alright, though. Maybe some other time. So, we're going to the shore, then?"
---
John lalalalalalalala rode his bike lalalalalalala did some things lalalala the end lalalalalalala.

The young man took off down the streets of Bloom, content with the view of the trees blossoming. They looked like this the entire year, but their beauty never ceased in John's eyes.

He and Amira fit in perfectly with the forward-minded, educated residents of Bloom, who often chose smaller, older apartments and were not afraid of traveling beyond the center of the city. But John often went a little further than most would have been comfortable going. Even so, he was content to push some limits, never wanted to be exactly as his Sunshiner history would expect him.

At the entrance of the bookstore, he noted the "Closed" sign on the window, prompting his knock.

Slinking upstairs, Callan adjusted the lapels on her red lined jacket to make sure she would look presentable upon reaching her destination. She smoothed her clothes and let her hair down, combing her fingers through her navy hair. It fell down her back like a pin straight scarf.

She rapped her knuckles on the door frame. She could already smell the alcohol.

"Come in," came Ares' voice. Quiet. She swallowed and then stepped in. He was sitting on the bed. Waiting for her.

"Where were you?" he asked.

"I came straight here after you left me at the office."

"Callan, come here."

"I---"

"Come here."

Her voice was small, "Alright..." Before she could sit down, he grabbed her arm and pulled her down onto the bed to sit next to him. He clasped her shoulders and pulled her forward, forcing her to look at him. But her eyes fell to her lap.

"You look at me, Callan! You look at me! Why did it take you so long to get here?"

"I was cleaning--"

He pushed her back onto the bed and got right over her face. He screamed, "Don't you lie to me! I know you were with that Mono! Don't LIE TO ME." He slammed her shoulders down again and she flinched, closing her eyes and expecting pain.

"Ares, please!" she yelped.

"Be quiet!" He struck her across the face and sent her head flying left into the mattress. She kept her eyes closed and stayed perfectly still. Maybe he would be done with her quickly this time. Maybe he would stop toying with her and just sleep it off.

He pulled her hair, forcing her head up. She gritted her teeth, and looked at him with squinted eyes, tears forming over her lower eyelids against the gold of her irises. He threw her off of the bed and she fell onto the floor, landing on her tailbone. She lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling. Ares stumbled to his feet and picked her up, forcing her onto hers.

"I don't like to hurt you," he growled, "But don't you ever play me for a fool, Callan. I will not be disrespected like that. Do you understand?"

Callan's breath hitched. She couldn't find her voice.

"Do you understand?!" he screamed, the tendons in his neck protruding, his face turning red and angry.

"Yes.." she managed, her voice hoarse, "Yes, I understand.."

"Good. Now go downstairs and get me some water."

Callan hesitated for a moment. "Alright."

"Good girl."

---

Peris stiffened at the knock on the door. She grabbed a baseball bat from beside the bed and set her coffee down on the nightstand. She slid carefully down the ladder and toward the door. It was John.

She slid the multiple locks out of place opened the door. "Hey, John. Come in. What are you doing here?"

John duly noted the bat that Peris held when she opened the door to the bookstore.

"Don't worry, I have only the best intentions. I came to purchase a few books, but I see that you've already locked up. How are you doing?"
---
Lane started for his own apartment, trying to arrive before his sister and the man would. What the hell was she doing that required going to their home? The elevator took longer than he'd like for the minimal amount of time he had to arrive where he was going.

Turning on the flickering light, he noticed something white on the kitchen table.

The text was large and red, and when he removed the sunglasses, the color brightened. It was just clear enough to read with only his regular prescription.

6:07 Out Check Next Door

She had left just over an hour ago, to meet with this man and then bring him here? It just did not make sense. Regardless, he followed the instructions of his sister, knocking upon the door of his neighbor.

"Hey, Damir? Are you alright? You awake?"
---
Damir had managed to lift himself from the floor, having painstakingly dragged himself to the bed, where a cane rested against the wall. He used it intermittently, and one of those times was easily approaching, if, that was, he left his bed within the next week. Surely he'd have bills coming requiring his payment, but he didn't foresee himself paying them. He certainly didn't have the means anymore. He pulled the blanket over his head, trying to sleep with his pounding head and his body that had been reduced to pulsating aches that were more tolerable than the earlier sensations.

He recalled being somewhere he wasn't alone. Beds much lighter in shade, floral in print, with one other person, a visage of sunlight. Her voice quiet and melodic to him. Their secrets shared, making their isolation bearable.

The bed wasn't as comfortable as that one, being a mattress on the floor, but for some reason, it was better than those in the hospital. He'd spent time in several of them, in rooms whiter than those in the Pearl scheme. Most of his time there was spent wheeled into his parents' rooms at his own request.

"Hey, Damir? Are you alright? You awake?"

He squeezed his eyes shut tighter, shaking his head as if his more benevolent neighbor could see him through the door.

"No..." he replied.

"Is the door locked?"

"I don't know..."

He heard the handle jostling, and the door creaked as the other man entered. The scent of alcohol was probably more noticeable than he'd like, but it wasn't to him.

"Damir...?"

"I'm not up... for company right now..."

"I see that."

"I'm going to sleep."

"Yeah?"

"Yes. I'm in bed. I'm... sleeping."

"You're talking to me. What happened today, Damir?"

He tried to turn away from Lane, leaning toward the wall opposite him.

"Alright... I'll leave you alone for now. We just wanted to make sure you were okay."

"I'm fine," he mumbled into the pillow on that side.

"Okay. I'm leaving now."

"Bye."

Peris laughed a bit, laying the baseball bat against the wall by the door. "I'm doing fine, doing fine," she replied. She closed the door behind him. "It's no trouble, really. I can help you find whatever you need. And how've you been? How is Amira?" she asked.

Her slippers made gentle hushing sounds against the cheap carpeting as she glided along the aisles of the store, turning on lights.

---

The knuckles on Callan's hands were white as she gripped the railing to make her way down the stairs. Her scalp was throbbing and there was a sharp pain in her lower back each time she moved her legs. Her gait resembled that of an old woman. She kept her hips tight to avoid the pain.

She was relieved to be down the stairs. She walked to the kitchen as quickly as she could and took a glass from the top shelf of one of the kitchen cabinets. After taking it to the refrigerator and filling it with ice and water, she walked toward the stairs again.

She paused at the railing. She didn't want to have to go up again. But she did, slowly and cautiously. She didn't trust that he was finished with her yet. But she hoped so. Maybe he would be back to normal. Maybe he would show her the kindness she had fallen in love with.

Hand extended, she offered him the glass. He took it, drank most of it the first time his lips touched its brim. "Thank you, babe."

"Mhmn," Callan murmured. She sat on the edge of the bed. She heard Ares put the glass down on the nightstand. It clinked against the glass coaster. She shrank away from him, closing her eyes.

"Hey," his voice was gentle. A caresse that was mirror by the arm she felt around her shoulders, propping her up against him. "Callan..." She did not respond to him. "Callan, I'm sorry. I am so sorry..." She would not look at him. Could not trust him. And she knew that. She could never trust him. "Baby, look at me. Look at me, please." He was pleading. He touched her hair and she slowly turned her head. Brought her eyes up to meet his gaze.

He seemed surprised at the darkening mark on her face. "Oh, Cal..." His breath hitched this time. He seemed unable to find the words to explain himself. "I'lll... I'll stop drinking. I promise." He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly against his chest. She could feel moisture on her shoulder, where his eyes were resting. The stench of alcohol threatened to choke her. "I promise, I promise," he mumbled, shaking.

"Shh..." She stroked his back. "Okay, Ares. You're okay."

She knew he would not stop this time. He never did.

So, why did some part of her still believe him.

---

Gale leaned his back against the door to Allan's apartment, letting it click closed under his weight. His eyes rested on the floor. "Allan..." he began, eyes turning sad as they took in the small details of the ground. "What happened to you?" Why do you let this happen to you?

He couldn't bring himself to look at the other man's bruised and swelling face.

Kameran's response was the evidence Max needed to confirm his previous suspicions. It was obvious that this man and his new employee knew each other, and judging by the physical aspect of the young man, they were related by blood. Max sighed. It was never good when there was legal guardian involved with the recruits. He had had problems with the Prismas over it in the past, and although it was all settled with a pound of red, green and blue beads, Max knew better than to attract their attention again. 

While the Red Eye had nothing to fear from the legal enforcement in Mono, they still had the other gangs to worry about. Blue Ivy more than Black Dunes. The Dunes were slowly turning into a clan, one that was playing by the rules of the merciless politicians with god-complex. The Dunes no longer had a hold on Mono, and they were not interested in it either way, but the few places that were still under their control were probably reigned by the bloodiest, most violent ways anyone's ever seen. That's how they've been able to keep those places. Not even Max dared to touch them. Blue Ivy was another story. They were one of the three rising gangs. Yellow Shell and Green Locusts we're the other two that were quickly eaten by Blue Ivy. Now they are just shades of Blue, so to speak. The three of them have become what Blue Ivy is now, all thanks to Blue's organization. And Max envied their ability to stay cool under pressure. Guess that's why they call 'em blue. 

The gang leader waited patiently until the siblings' confrontation was over. Once Kameran turned around to face him, Max made sure to transform his scowl into the polite smile he had forced himself to have during the entire ride. 

Ready to go?

"Sure thing." Max was the first to step out of the bus, right after Kameran's apparent brother. He waited until she was at the door and offered his hand to help her climb down. "Now, where does this sad bag of tears live?"

---

Emilia nodded. "Yes. Yes we are going to the shore." She looked around one more time. Those damn Monos were starting to gather around to see her car, trying to steal glimpses of the plaque, wanting to look closer to the driver's face. She was so terrified, she felt she didn't need to hide it anymore. But for Amira's sake, perhaps, she'd do it. Because she was upset and Emilia did not want to upset her any more. "Do you know any other way to the shore that isn't through this place? Not like I mind, hello. No way. It's just that... We should... I mean, we should buy food and water and things like that for the trip, you know? And... I don't feel safe parking my car in this place?"

Yup. Screw it. She was fucking terrified. 

---

As soon as he heard Gale's question, a single hand traced his own bruises. The pills he had taken to numb down the pain worked marvelously well, to the point he didn't even recall how he got those bruises. It was nice to know that he possessed pills that made him forget, though. Allan made a mental note to remember that for later. However, he had no idea what he should and could answer to his friend. The last thing he wanted to tell him was the truth, that's for sure. Ginou was Allan's personal secret, and she was one he was willing to keep from everyone at any cost. He didn't even recall what kind of job he had use as a way to excuse his absences every other night. Did he even tell Gale he had a job? Allan licked his cracked, dry lips; he could taste the metallic flavor of fresh blood finding its way out of his body again. He settled for a half truth. 

"I got caught in the shooting last night." That was true. He was caught in the middle of it. In fact, it was his client, right in the middle of his service, that had decided that shooting bullets at the sky was a good idea. He was drunk out of his mind, Allan remembered. Drunk enough to confuse him with a Red Eye and punch him several times in the face. It could've been worse. He could've died. His body to be disposed and thrown to the streets as a message or as meat for the homeless. He'd still be Ginou. Gale could find out. Yes. It could be worse. Several times worse. "I'm fine, though. I managed to get out just in time." And then silence. 

It was a screaming silence that was decided to crush him no matter what. Lately, the times Allan saw Gale were the only moments that would bring him joy. His mind has become this poisonous prison that was out to get him, ready to rot his body inside out. Gale gave him a distraction from all those thoughts. Allan remembered how to smile with Gale. How to laugh, how to not care, how to be 23... How to be Allan. "Do you want anything to drink?" he said that faster than he intended to. "Something to eat? Anything? I don't really have anything, but I can get it for you." At this point, I would do anything for you, honestly. How pathetic.

((:'( This is how I spend ten minutes before working.))

"Amira is great. I'm just looking for something on regional architecture, if you don't mind?"

John knew the shelves nearly as well as Peris, having spent all the time human possible here after his transfer to a Chrom university two years ago. He had met Peris during that time; the books were an interest they would always share, regardless of where they actually were.

"And how have you been lately, Peris?"
---
Kameran suddenly recalled the note she'd written. Lane could be next door, but it wasn't as though she could fool the gang leader very easily after that particular interaction. If diversion and falsehood were not options, there were only a few others she could think of.

"You don't have to worry about him, my brother. He'll stay out of this. Anyway. He lives up here," she said, gesturing to the building, with its painted flames licking the smudged slate windowpanes. Trying not to observe the wall too obviously, she took her company through the door and toward the stairs; she knew better than to risk an elevator stopping with just the two of them in it. Her suspicion about this man was growing, no matter how much she wanted to appease him "professionally"--in color and drug trafficking. There was little else she would be willing to participate in. As they took their way up, she made sure to stay on guard, attentive of the actions of the man beside her.
---
"Emilia, there's really not much you need to worry about," Amira replied, as they passed a run-down apartment building diverting from the usual gray. Fire wasn't a gang symbol she'd heard of, but this was a building she had seen a couple of times before.

"We're... we'll be out in a couple of minutes," she said, her voice suddenly quieter.

"Just... turn here," she said, when they reached the end of the street.

Peris nodded, as she flipped the last light switch. "I'm glad to here that. Tell her I said hello. This way," she said, making her way across the library. She traced her index across the spines of the various volumes as she went, weaving her way toward a shelf fixed to the wall. She pointed up at a shelf about ten feet up the wall.

"What you're looking for is up there." She left to go get the ladder, decided to answer his question then, "I've been.. y'know. Here."

She slid it across to the proper spot and climbed, taking the attached basket up with her. Her eyes flicked quickly across the titles and she grabbed the appropriate books, putting them into the basket and sliding the mechanism down as she descended. "These should be a good start."

---

Gale stared at Allan for a moment. He decided that he would let Allan change the subject for now. Pretend that he wasn't going to say anything more about it. Like he bought everything Allan was saying.

As if they hadn't known one another long enough to know when he was lying. But Gale hated to pry.

"I'll take some water, if you don't mind."

John followed Peris to the section he had predicted his volume to be, appreciating the familiarity and ease with which they both navigated the shelves. He stared up the shelf while the woman retrieved a ladder. The architecture of the region stood out in comparison to that of the ones surrounding it. The buildings were constructed very specifically, and there was one particular area he wished to further understand, as well as the formation of the suburbs around Chrom.

"Thanks. Ah, I see. Well, if we ever have time, maybe we should all get together sometime. And read some erotica. Fifty shades of erotica."

Every division of the bookstore was recognizable to him, reference and mainstream fiction ((IT'SANUMBRELLAOFGENRES)), self-help, history, classic literature, philosophy, nature. The bookstore was arranged expertly, neatly, like a library with tall, sturdy, mismatching shelves. Nothing seemed out of place as they continued toward the front of the store.

He carried the books to the register.
--

Peris followed John up to the loft, where they stored their shared collection of smut to the register, where she proceeded to ring him out. She nodded, a few strands of fiery hair falling loose from the bun sitting atop her head.

"We should definitely do that, yes. That'll be twenty-six ninty-eight," she said, smiling a bit at him.

((John: "I drag race in my Prius. I win."

"I actually drive a Chevy Volt. When I'm not using my money and livelihood to save thw world."

"I take pictures of Mono and put them on my blog about saving the world. Anonymously."

"I ride my bike. In the ocean."))

John smiled back in response, but hoped there was more he could do for his friend. She seemed very occupied here in the store and with her studies, both of which he understood. But he wondered if she ever grew tired of it, yearned for something beyond this. Then again, that was just his fundamental assumption of everyone, but not really, because that would make him a little Sunshine-y, but would give justification to the song "Light Gives Heat" by Jars of Clay being on the playlist, but yeah. Even so, he paid his friend in exact change so as not to cause inconvenience. It seemed like she was content with her life here.

Peris noticed the bump protruding from John's lower abdomen. "So, how far along are you with the second coming of Jesus?"

Peris opened the register and put her friend's money into the correct slots. She liked the way John looked around the store. He looked at it like it was his home. It was the same way she saw it.

When he graduated from their university, he had moved on, becoming even more involved in Chrom. And she had done just the opposite. She stayed in school, to get her Master's degree in English and her MBA. And stayed glued to this bookstore on the corner of Spring and Magenta. In some ways she was jealous of him. But she was never as good at people as he was.

Customers aside, the only other person Peris had to deal with was Esther, the store's owner, who had been forcibly moved by her daughter to live out her last years with her in Sunshine Medley. Much to the older woman's disdain.

So maybe this was where she belonged.

"Oh, just about five months. He's coming along pretty well. Amira told the angel she wouldn't divorce me the other night, so that's a relief. I guess we'll just have to live with the misconception of her impregnating me. But she's okay with it now. It's all good."
John smiled genuinely at his friend as he picked up his books, preparing to leave. He had noted that she was already dressed for bed when she'd opened the store for him. She really did live here, and he could tell just how comfortable she was in this place.

"So, I'll see you around. I think I'm free Friday, if you'd like to have coffee, perhaps?"
----
Damir sunk deeper into his bed, hoping that his neighbor had actually left rather than simply walked away. There was no real privacy in this particular apartment building, but his neighbors were particularly ignorant to this concept. Lane was not as bad as Kameran in most regards, mostly due to the fact that he typically did not peddle illegal drugs nor slip disturbing artwork under his apartment door, nor make aggressive comments about his life. His calm, his level-headedness, occasionally aggravated Damir in a completely different way than his sister ever could.

"Hey..."

He hadn't left. Of course.

"Did you see Kameran earlier today?"

"Yes."

"Was she... is she doing anything a little odd? Was she with anybody?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary," Damir mumbled, face still halfway buried in his pillow.

"Okay. I was just wondering..."

His obliviousness was unbelievable. Damir briefly debated telling the girl's brother everything she did on a frequent basis, particularly to him, but he wasn't sure how much that would benefit either of them.

"Damir... do you... um, do you want to talk about what's going on? Did something happen today?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Are you sure? It might... help? A little?"

"It doesn't change anything, Lane."

No one could argue against that.

"It might still be helpful?"

"No. I've tried talking. It is not helpful."

"Damir... you can't just..."

"Are you going to stay here your whole life? This is hard, God this is unbelievably hard, but are you just going to stay here? In my parents' guest room?"

The wall was dark, wine-red, maroon in the lack of light. The comforter was even darker. Expensive. But it owned him, locking him into the mattress. The young woman's voice grew higher as she spoke.

"I just can't... you can't... I know this is hard for you, but you need to try, Damir. You need to leave sometime and... I don't know, go to school? Look for another job? You could go to school. We could help. I just don't... you're here all the time..."

Her voice was quieter now, desperate.

"Please. Damir? Damir, please. Please talk to me."

"I can. And I am. Don't you have... work to do?"

"I can wait."

Turning toward the neighbor, he briefly squinted his over the top of the blanket. The other man stood halfway into the room, his hand upon the desk containing his sister's drawings.

He slowly lifted the blanket off of his chest, then the rest of them, shifting to sit on the side of the bed, slouching slightly with one hand in his lap, the other brushing unruly hair out of subtly reddened, tired eyes.

"I'm fine, Lane. Really."

"It smells like alcohol. It always does in your apartment."

"God, why don't you ever leave me alone."

"I think you need help."

"You need help. Do you do this to Kameran? No wonder she does what she does."

"Don't bring my sister into this. You have a problem."

"Your sister's a thief, you know that? She steals. From me."

"What?"

"She doesn't even give me any of her profit, damnit."

"What are you talking about?"

"Go home, Lane."

"What happened to you today, Damir? Honestly."

"Go home."

"What does my sister take from you?"

He dove under his blanket again.

"Damir."

"I'm trying to sleep, Goddamnit, go home!"

How could he be deliberating right now? What would he have to do to make him leave?

"Damir, I'm just... con_"

"Of course you are. Everyone's so damn concerned," he muttered.

"What are you trying to do, Damir? You can't shut everyone out. It will make you miserable."

"Why can't you leave me alone?"

"Fine. I'll leave you alone. I just... look. If you need anything, we're next door."

He wanted to say something, anything, to keep Kameran and Lane out of his apartment, the Senela's off of the phone he would soon no longer have, wipe the pity from co-worker's faces, the tears and sincerity out of lake-colored eyes. But it was there. They were there. Questions would be asked, but there would be no surprise. He was probably wrong. He knew how it stung, when someone did the things he did. There was no way to stop, it seemed, beyond...

"Lane?" he said, hoping his fading voice would carry through the wall.

A reply came a few moments after.

"Yes, Damir?"

"I'm sorry."

"It's alright."

Max followed Kameran up the stairs deadly silent, the smile on his face not once fading. He could tell the girl was already wary around him. She was starting to fear him. He could not find out the reasons just yet, it definitely had nothing to do with his eyes, but more about his attitude towards her. Personally he didn't find anything odd in the way he was treating her. Everyone he had met in his entire lifetime was treated with the same respect and... Delicacy. Either way, he enjoyed the feeling of power. If he didn't, he wouldn't be where he is, now would he? In no time they reached Kameran's floor. It was a typical Mono building, Max could tell. with 12 apartments per floor, each of them probably with only one bedroom and one bathroom. The most 'luxurious' ones would have two bedrooms, a bathroom and an electric portable stove. Max remembered living with his parents and his three brothers in one of those apartments. They didn't have a T.V since they changed it for one of those electric stoves. They'd spent endless nights staring at the hot, bright red spirals during the winter, all snuggled together, trying to preserve their body heat and add the one that came from the cooking device. Max loathed those days. They were so pathetic... Pathetically poor.

He hadn't notice at first, but his face had become one that reflected his very own thoughts; eyes that were locked in nowhere, just staring right ahead, his mouth made a thin line that was holding back all his repressed anger. But he had to keep his cool. This wasn't the time or the place to dwell on such things. Before he knew it, Max was standing in front of a door that read the numbers '16-78'. Kameran stood on the side. This was probably that kid's apartment. He was about to knock on the door when it opened on its own. Well, not on its own. Kameran's brother was standing right in front of him, they were face to face now. Max smiled again at the young man. "Well, fancy meeting you here."

---

"Nothing to worry about?" Emilia turned right in the curve as Amira had told so. "Darling, we're in the most dangerous place of Chrom. Perhaps even of the world!" She parked the car under a streetlight and waited for Amira to give her further instructions. She couldn't fathom how much her friend knew about the lower classes of Chrom. Back in high school together the did community service by giving the Monos colored clothes and pastries and delicious things in general. Things she knew they weren't allowed to have unless it was in those charity events. 

"We should probably wait and buy all the things we need at the beach. I don't feel safe here, Amira. It's like they're ogling at my car!" Emilia hugged herself and sunk further into the white leather seat. Boy, was this a mistake. 

--

Allan nodded at his friend's request. Water was something he'd definitely have, at least. At least that's what he hoped. Lately he had had so little time to do some actual grocery shopping, and he was sure he had missed the times where the water truck would come around to give everyone their weekly rations. Allan certainly hoped that he'd have some water. He opened the small fridge and truth be told, without the jug of milk, it was completely empty. Allan sighed. "Sorry, I don't have any."

Gale was smart. He'd eventually pick up on everything and ask questions. This wasn't the first time he had come to Allan's apartment and the latter would have absolutely nothing to offer but his company. Apparently that is the only thing I'm good at. Allan was certainly getting tired of it; of going home to find out that he had nothing to fill his empty stomach because he didn't find the time to buy food. He was getting thin. Too thin. He could see his ribs already and his hip bones were pointier than ever. Some clients complained about it, but they certainly weren't enough for his bosses to do something about it. He still wasn't allowed to eat at his workplace. Allan hung his head and scratched the back of his neck, brushing his nails against an open wound. When he retrieved his hand, he saw his fingertips tainted red with his blood. "****."

He started to move around the apartment looking for something black to clean it up, so as no one would notice. He was thankful that Gale was the one in his apartment at the moment. He could trust him not to call the Prismas on him for this minimal offense. 

---

There was a slight difference between Mono and the rest of the city apart from the colors. Mono was the place where all the immigrants, illegal and poor, would end up in. It was disguised with an immigration friendly law that dubbed Chrom as the best city in the country. But reality was harsher than that. And darker too. Even the Chromes that lived in Mono, despite all being bound together by the hatred they had for the color restrictions, they resented the immigrants that came to live there. They were taking jobs. Making businesses. And they were taking their food. Also, the color restrictions seemed to be less strict when it came to them. They were allowed to keep all their colored belongings, after all. 

A young woman wearing a pair of white pants with a black turtle neck sweater was walking down and out the immigrant side of the Gray Scheme. Her bright, naturally red curls neatly put in a bun on top of her head, hidden beneath a jet black beret, just to keep the people from staring or trying to cut it and steal it from her. 

It was bad enough that she had bright green eyes that no matter how much you looked at them, all you'd see was two pairs of emeralds just waiting to be stolen and sold. The woman took out a pair of black shades and out them on. There was nothing she feared more than going blind. 

Her mother has often told her that going around that place was dangerous and that she should come to live with her at the Red Eye headquarters. The young woman declined the invitation. She wasn't about to meddle with that group anymore than she was. True, they offered her and her mother protection thanks to her mother's affiliation with them. In fact, the young woman owed them everything. From her citizenship, to the underwear she was wearing that day. She was already playing the part of bartender and waitress in one of their many underground bars, the same one where her mother worked. 

She arrived to a black door with a bright red doorbell on the side. She pushed the small button and was greeted by a large man who had become her friend over the years. He knew who she was. But still, he had to follow orders. 

"Name?" His voice rang and echoed in the empty street. The woman smiled and shook her head. Then, with a heavy French accent, she replied.

"Ditte Coco."



((I am the master of phone typing.))

((MASTERRRR. *bows*))

Kameran saw Max's face change suddenly, his eyes distant, his face taut as he held something back. She kept up her guard and tried to discern what he could possibly be hiding; was it something about the apartments? Regardless, she would keep in mind his inevitable humanity for the future, if there was ever a need to understand him beyond what was happening now.

When they arrived at the apartment door, she hoped that Lane had not chosen that day to be particularly in-depth in his visit with their neighbor.

But the door opened before either her or Max could open it themselves, and there he stood.

She could not suppress the urge to try and pierce him with her eyes.
---
Lane was almost out the door when he'd heard Damir apologize. He hadn't expected an apology. It was easy to see him as nosy or over-involved, judgmental even, but his intentions were genuine. He was concerned, and Damir did seem to be struggling. The way he approached others just seemed, however, to put them off.

His situation had been different, but before taking in Kameran, he had been personally familiar with some of his neighbor's habits.

"We're disappointed, yes, but we want you to make your own decisions. We can arrange an appointment with_"

"No, I mean, well, if not, that would be... I won't... I'll stop."

"How long have you been doing this, Lane?"

"Not long. A few months."

"We'll talk to one of our friends and get an appointment for you. It's very unhealthy, I'm certain you understand that. Dependency is a serious risk, Lane."

"I know... I... I'm sorry."

"It's alright. I just wish... you would have comfortable enough to talk to us..."

He abandoned any substance with the symptom of altering one's mind outside of occasional cup of coffee and the occasional cigarette, one year after the accident. They would have deemed him unstable, ill-fit, as a guardian, otherwise.

It was necessity, he thought, which had brought him to this conclusion.

lolroleplaysaresorealisticlongthoughtsofdialoguejusthappenallthetimeexcepttheytotallydo

"Well, fancy meeting you here."

Lane immediately recognized the man as the one from the bus. For some reason, he had not expected to see him here. He ignored the icicles most likely shooting from his sister's eyes as she stood beside the man.

"Well. This is a bit... inconvenient? for one of us, isn't it?"
---
"Emilia... I know it seems dangerous here, and there are some real dangers in the Grey Scheme and other areas, but... you probably have less to worry about than you think," Amira replied, suppressing a sigh. Sometimes her friend was unbelievably dense. She had probably never conversed with a resident of this Scheme outside of high school charity events.

She knew quite a few people in the Grey Scheme, one in particular. The building was not too far away, the fire painting still visible in Emilia's rearview mirror.

"If you just turn left here," she began again. "Then take a right, go straight at the stoplight. Another right at the next stop sign. Then there's a fairly direct route to the highway, if you just keep going. Take the Citrus Street exit, and we should be on our way."

The gang leader bit his lower lip to keep his smile from turning into a grin. At his side, Kameran was basically thinking over a thousand ways to murder his brother in a way there wouldn't be too much blood spillage, a silent murder preferably, that would not require any more than cheap, attainable every day objects. Max wasn't too keen in standing between a sibling discussion but this time around it was just amusing as all hell. Even more amusing was Lane's response. 

"'Inconvenient for one of us'?" Max asked, his voice mirrored the grin on his face and the laughter at the back of his throat. "You think I'm here to **** your sister?" That was probably what Kameran was thinking too. Max laughed. He didn't know what kind of reputation he had outside of the gang world, he certainly knew it wasn't a good one but he couldn't imagine why would they imagine he'd do something like that with someone he'd just met. 

"Oh no. I have my standards. I'm here to collect the drunken sad bag from here and take him to the Red Eye headquarters." It wasn't hard to guess that the recently fired waiter was an alcoholic. Max worked with hundreds of them every single day and Damir showed every sign of being one of them. The bottle of Amber liquor on the floor--probably one of the most expensive things out there--showed how much of a raging alcoholic Damir was. He probably spent all his salary on those things. And the way he carried himself. Sloppy, crouched, seemingly tired, the obvious scent of mint mixed with alcohol in his breath, the circles under his eyes, the slow steps, the unwillingness to do anything but be alone and drink. Max knew his kind all too well. "Plus, the guy could really use a job. Might as well give him one that pays well, right? I can see you're the kind of person who worries. You wouldn't like to wake up one day due to a nasty smell coming from next door only to find out that your neighbor's been dead for five days." It was a threat more than a simple observation. Max made sure that was clear with the tone of his voice. 

Without waiting for an answer or permission, Max pushed his way into the apartment past Lane and went directly to the bedroom, decided to take Damir downtown.

--

Emilia nodded at her friend as she gave her the directions. She could tell that Amira was slowly growing tired of this whole "sheltered lady" act. But Emilia couldn't really help herself. She was born and raised inside the gates of Sunshine Medley, only going out when certain school events required her to. And even then, her father would send a personal bodyguard to protect her. She was, after all, Emilia Bonaire. Every single piece of clothing in this rotten city had her last name on the tag. Her father owned the textile factories and her mother was a well known fashion designer. They were by far the most powerful people in Chrom. And deep in her bones she could tell those Monos were starting to realize just who she was. 

Just at the exact moment a man dressing in all-grey overalls approached the car with a few of his Mono friends and knocked on the window with a stupid grin in his face. There was no way Emilia was rolling down the window. 

"Open up, darlin'! Don't hide!" That is exactly what I'm gonna do, sir. Thank you very much. Emilia turned to Amira with a clear expression of horror in her face. Surely, she'd know what to do. Amira always knew what to do in these situations. Emilia took her phone from Amira's hands and clutched it in her hands, fiddling with the buttons as she did so. 

"If they don't go in five minutes," Emilia whispered. "I'm calling the Prismas, Amira. I know you don't like the cops, and I totally get it, they're brutes, but I am really getting scared here. Can you do something? Talk to them, anything?"

--

Ditte was the first one to arrive, as usual. The lights were all turned off and a few tables still had the remaining mess from the previous night. Most of the chairs were on their place, hanging on top of the tables; some others were scattered around, on the floor, a few broken. Most likely a fight. Ditte reaches lied towards the power box and turned all the lights on at once, leaving the small stage as the last thing unlit in the entire place. Ditte really liked this place. It was probably the only thing she liked about that blasted gang. 

That place reminded her of home. The soft, earthly hues, mixed with the aggressive tones of the bottles of liquor all organized in the gigantic stand behind the bar. Black, metal chairs that had an air of "Paris at night" in them, with matching tables too. It was a normal place in the Gray Scheme. It was also expensive. Very expensive. Probably another reason why her mother liked it. Ditte took her apron from behind the counter and put it on, ready to clean whatever mess was left. 

She decided to turn on the radio to listen to some music while she mopped the tiled floor, and in no time she found herself dancing and singing to an old tune in her native language. She had also inherited her mother's talent. But unlike her mother, Ditte knew that getting fixated on the dream of becoming a great artist would only serve to sever her relationships. It was what happened with her and her mother, after all. She'd always go around, singing herself to the crowds, almost as if she was whoring out her voice. She was and artist, she'd say, and she'd do whatever it takes to earn her bread with her voice.

Ditte didn't get it. Would never get it. Didn't care to get it either. She eyed the closed piano on the stairs with a little longing. She remembered singing and playing with her first love back home. She remembered dancing and laughing and not having a care in the world. She remembered being happy in a world full of color.



((I will seriously write "Phone Type" each time I do it, just to brag.))