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/qst/ - Quests

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=Thread 20=

You are Delilah, a young girl with a strange affliction suffering in a world that does not care. A runaway living on the streets, you go through several hardships and struggles in an attempts to find peace and happiness for yourself. The world is not simply black and white, nor are the people living in it.

Can you push through all the misery that surrounds you, or will you fall to this gray world?

=Links and Information=

Story Thus Far (Raw and a mess, will work on cleaned up versions.):

http://pastebin.com/WnGZwK04 (embed) (embed) (embed) (embed) Part 1
http://pastebin.com/eGfGW8jV (embed) (embed) (embed) (embed) Part 2 (Part two seems to be somewhat messed up in addition to not being caught up. I will attempt to fix, but archives seem to be your better option for catch up)



Quick Glance (SPOILERS) The quick Who is Who and what Delilah has. Mostly accurate.:


Twitter; @Cowboy_Sue
Discord; https://discord.gg/0107qV9kiFDlUH9nY
Chat room with me and other players. I answer questions, post sketches, and act cheeky.

Last Thread:
You decide to try and stay down here, if Sam says it's safe then you should trust him. Hearing him say that calms some of your fear, but that annoying feeling of wanting to keep to yourself tugs at your chest. It should be fine down here though, yeah? These are all fathers and grandfathers like Sam is, right?

Then again, just because you're a father that doesn't mean you're a good person, does it?

Just remember, Sam vouched for these guys. If he says you will be fine around them then you should believe him. Or, at least try to. It's not even the idea that you don't trust Sam, it's all the unknown men around that you have trouble putting faith in. If it gets to be too much for you, there's always upstairs, right?

For now, you can try and sit near some of these guys. It would feel weird to just...try and join in, and you don't feel comfortable starting up conversation either. There is a lonely arm chair over by the television set, sitting there shouldn't be too bad. Walking over, you can't help but notice what a mess you're in. The bottom of your dress is literally ripped all along the bottom now, and you are fairly certain that there is some dried specks of blood dotting your sleeve. Your face and hair must be a mess too, how embarrassing. Sam didn't want you to mention living on the streets, but your appearance may just give that away. Just act small and maybe they won't notice you at all.

The chair is older then you are and just as worn out. As you take your seat you sink into the cushions, and in your fuzzy state it feels like it might just swallow you up. One of the seated men glances over towards you for a moment, but all eyes remained focused on the screen instead. The television is rather small, equally as old as the people watching it. You're almost surprised the thing has color, even though it's hard to see the show they're watching. It looks like Dallas, and aside from the faces of the actors that's all your recognize. They all seem rather in to it, and you do your best to follow along.

"Bah...commercials commercial commercials! Just bring the show back on already!" One of them exclaim as the show cuts out for advertisements.

"Oh quiet down, if there weren't any commercials you'd complain about them not giving you a chance to go pee."

"I can hold it in for Dallas." The man complaining looks over at you, adjusting his glasses. "Don't you agree, boy?"

"Uh..." You were hoping to not be brought into this conversation, but at hearing the word 'boy' you feel a bit shocked.

"What's wrong? Cat got yer tongue?"

"Probably not gonna give you an answer cause you can't even tell that she's a girl, you old coot." Another man pipes up, trying to correct the other man's mistake.

"That's a girl? Some mighty short hair for one."

"Ladies can have short hair too, you dolt."

"Erm...I don't watch this show..." You add in, not enjoying the sudden attention on you.

"Look, you went and made her feel bad! You really need them docs to give you thicker glasses! You've already got your nose pressed against the paper when you read!"

"I can see just fine!" The man waves off his...friend?...before coming back to you. "Don't watch Dallas, eh? Alright alright, who you down here with anyways?"

"Oh, um...Sam-" Why the hell don't you know anyone's last name? "The uh, the guy with one leg...?"

"Sam's here? Been forever since we've seen that man round. How's he doing?"

"F-...fine. We just needed to stop here for a bit is all."

"You his granddaughter?" A third man on the couch asks, and you shake your head.

"I'm just a uh...a family friend. I err...got myself in a bit of trouble earlier and he's just helping me out." To you, the lie sounds convincing. Then again you're sure anyone could tell you something and you'd be inclined to believe it with your mind being the mess it is.

"Sam's a good man. He still retired, or he head back to the operating table?"

"He's...retired, but I um...I think he helps out with that stuff occasionally?" You have to be careful, you don't want to contradict anything Sam might say later. "I'm not too sure when it comes to his uh, work and stuff."

"That kinda thing is probably gross and icky for a lady like yourself," The man who mistook you for a boy says, and while you slowly nod in agreement you can't help but feel like he is talking down to you a bit.

"Oh, now you call her a lady."

"I call them like I see them."

"You can't even see!"

As the two men bicker, the third man between them dealing with it like it's normal, you look over to see Sam sitting at a table with another man. This guy is much younger then the rest, and while you have the urge to go over and sit with them it looks like they might be talking about something serious.

You could go join Sam, or maybe try to...sit close by and listen to what he's talking about? That would be pretty sneaky though.

Sitting here is an option too, but that would mean talking to these guys. Will they be able to tell you're homeless though? What if they ask you more questions...

Maybe you just need to go upstairs, away from the business of down here...

What would you like to do?
Stay a while, maybe try coming up with an excuse as to why we're so disheveled. Like... these two guys chasing us, but we lost them after climbing a tall fence. It... ruined our dress, though. And got us all messed up.

If they get too nosy, excuse ourselves and go upstairs.
Just keep to yourself and leave if you're pressed for info too much.

>Removing the interesting part of that fanart
Understandable, but still makes me miss it.
>stay here
These guys are harmless enough and we are within Sams field of vision should something bad happen
It would have been too hot for everyone to handle, it made me hot and bothered. Mostly bothered.
It would be easier to stay down here for now, and you don't really feel good about eaves dropping on Sam. Besides, it might be a good idea for you to try and make sure they know you aren't homeless.

"I'm um...a bit of a mess right now..." You mumble, but the two men are still arguing too much to have heard you.

"You're a what?" The middle one calls out, trying to listen over his friends.

"A...a m-mess!"

"Quiet down! She's trying to speak!"

"Shut it Opie, we're talking about br-, ah. Sorry, what were you saying girl?" The first man puts the argument on hold, and now you can't help but hate all of the attention on you. Should have just let them argued...

"I was just um...j-just saying, no wonder you m-mistook me for a boy. I'm a r-real mess right now." You put up a smile, hoping it doesn't look too forced. "I was uh...c-...chased by these two guys and end up climbing this really tall fence, and the bottom of my skirt got caught. It ended up ripping a-all the way around, isn't that awful? Least I got away though!"

"Running away? Make you sound-"

"I-...Italian?" You offer up an answer and all three men look at you in surprise, the first man bursting out in laughter.

"Aha! She's...she's got it!" He says between bursts of laughter, the man he argued with throwing him an annoyed look. You try to chuckle along with him, but it feels like he enjoys that a little too much.

You glance back over towards Sam, watching him talk with that man more. A key lays on the table between them, and while you can't get a good look it doesn't look big enough to be a house key. Looking around the room more, you can see that most of the men here are Sam's age. It doesn't look like there are more then two or three people who would be John's age.

Is John alright? Who would have gotten there first...Lawrence or Warren's friends? What if neither of them have showed up, and John is just laying there alone and in pain? You can't begin to imagine how terrible that would be. But what if it's Warren's buddies that find him first? What would they do to them? You doubt Warren will be able to do anything right now...Warren probably isn't alive right now, is he? You've killed him. Even if he wasn't dead when you left...how could someone survive that? Pepper spray is one thing, but what you did...

Even if you tell yourself it was for the sake of helping yourself, for helping Sam and John, there's still that feeling of guilt and that writhing ball of disgust in your stomach.

"You alright? You look pale." The man in the middle speaks up, and you realize that you've been starring off at nothing, paying attention to nothing else.

"I...yes. I-I'm okay. I-...Is there a restroom somewhere?"

"One near the kitchen, but you might want to use the upstairs one. No one goes up there, you should be able to find it easily enough." He points you over to the stairs and you nod to thank him and stand up. It feels like you need to puke or something, and you would rather not try to explain why only blood is coming up. You excuse yourself and start to go up the stairs, but Sam calls you back over to his table.

"Um...what is it?" You try to hide the fact you want to lock yourself away in the bathroom.

"Me and Daniel are about to head out for a moment, will you be alright staying here for about an hour?" Sam asks, the other man nodding at you.

"Um, yeah. I be f-fine." You struggle to make this sound convincing.

"Promise we'll be back soon, we're going to go check up on John." Sam tries to make this sound like it isn't a big deal, but your heart clenches at the sound of it. "When I get back, we'll see about figuring out what to do from there, alright?"

You nod and feel another twist in your stomach.

"I'll be upstairs..." You have to stop yourself from running up the steps, hoping Sam doesn't think anything is wrong.

Everything feels wrong though, and you wish someone could convince you otherwise.

You wish Lawrence was here.


Despite standing in the bathroom forever, you end up not not seeing that dark red color come out again. You feel awful, but you try to calm yourself down.

It does nothing to help though. You keep seeing Warren's broken face, replaying the way metal connected to his head. And from there, you can't help but spiral into previous thoughts. Being chased, those two men in the apartment trying to take you away...what happened in the camp store...your bedroom....


At the thought of his name you choke and throw up. Not much, but the sight of the red makes you feel even worst. You make sure that every trace of it disappears down the toilet and stand up, trying to catch your breath and your balance. Walking out of the bathroom, you consider going to lay down for now, but you recall seeing a phone downstairs. It might be good to give Faraway a call again, see if Lawrence is still there.

With slow steps you go down, finding the phone near the kitchen. You hope it's fine for you to use, but no one seems to be bothered by you picking up the receiver. At least now you don't have to worry about a half broken phone and a time limit.

What should you even tell him though? Should you let him know what's happened from your last phone call? Tell him some of it...tell him everything? Maybe you should just check up on him...

Is there anything you should ask him too?
Just that... we're okay. Ish. Okay enough. We probably shouldn't talk about any of this over the phone. If Lawrence is still there it'd be good if he hurried, because something happened and John is... sort of in a bad way.

... unlike someone else, but at least John's alive, right? He's tough. He'd have to be to return from Ukraine... even if he left behind a part of his mind.
It wouldn't be a smart idea to talk about everything that went down over the phone, not with all these people around who could possibly overhear. It would be good to know if Lawrence has at least left yet.

You dial the number and wait for Faraway to pick up.

"Hello, Albert here."

"It's me, Mr. Faraway." You can't help but notice how tired Faraway sounds again. If his day has been anything like yours then you don't blame him.

"Ah yes, hello Delilah. Where are you? What's going on?"

"Um, I'm with Sam, wait you don't know who that is. I'm with a friend of mine, we're over at a uh...VFW post? I just wanted to check in to see if Lawrence was there."

"No, he left a while ago. I think it was going to take him extra time to arrive to where you are. I gave him permission to use Bowie again but he had to go all the way back to the club for it."


"You sound worry, everything okay? Wait, is John there with you?"

"N-...no. I was seeing if Lawrence was still there because he um...he needs to go where John is right now. He's uh, hurt kinda bad..."

"Oh dear, I don't suppose an ambulance is possible though?" Faraway sounds worried, and while you wish you could comfort him it wouldn't feel genuine. You are just as scared for John as he is.

"I'm...I'm afraid not..."

"That would be too easy, wouldn't it? Sounds like you can't speak about it too much right now. I'm afraid I've got my own hands tied up here at the moment. Police are nosy, but I can't stay the night here either. I'm going to wrap up what I can and stay with Sharron till I get my apartment in better condition...or at least a properly working door."

"I'm sorry about that..."

"Worry about keeping yourself safe. I can't imagine what happened...either way, you're safe for now correct?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"Okay. I should be back here by tomorrow evening, once I can get a new door and set of locks fitted. Stop by if you need to. I'll see about leaving Lawrence a note just in case he comes by-, I need to scoot now. The officers wish to ask me more questions, keep safe." There's a click following Faraway's words, and you hang up the phone. Staying with him tonight is out of the question, and you begin to kick yourself for not asking about Sharron's address.

You couldn't really barge in like that though. It would be rude, and you have already been a big enough burden for Faraway, there's no need to intrude more then you need to. At least you know why Lawrence was taking so long. Hopefully he'll still be faster then Warren's friends...

You know that there's nothing you can do just by worrying, but at the same time it's all you can think of. Even if you guys didn't leave John laying at the bottom of a shed then what will happen if Lawrence gets there at the same time as Warren's friends?

A terrible thought strikes you.

Lawrence is going to see what you did to Warren. He's already seen you go crazy, but...he's going to think you're terrible, won't he?

Legs feeling weak, you're forced to sit down. You doubt he would say it to your face, but he's going to judge you anyways, won't he. He'll probably be scared of you or think you're crazy or...it makes you feel sick.

Sitting at this cheap folding table, you think about everything you've done. Just everything wrong or questionable...it's all coming to you right now. It feels terrible, there's this huge weight on your shoulders pressing down against you.

Even if Sam managed to bring John and Lawrence back you doubt it would do anything to make you feel better right now. If anything, having people you know looking down at you, knowing of what you did like that...it hurts.

They've done terrible things too, right? John has killed people and Lawrence gets...angry. They're still good people though...or maybe you're just too rotten to notice?

"What wrong with ya?" You look up so see a man shuffle over on his cane, hand on his bent back as he takes a spot on the other side of the table.

"Mind if I sit here?" He asks, already taken his seat.

"Um, no it's fine."

"Not often we get young ladies in here. You someone's granddaughter?" He lays his cane on the table as he says this, old and bent like he is.

"Er...yeah." It would be easier to go with that answer then try to explain your situation to everyone who asks.

"I see I see. Ya seem troubled." The man is speaking loudly, adjusting a hearing-aide in his ear.

"Erm...I guess so."

"What's on your mind?"
We hurt someone we didn't need to. Or more than we needed to. He hurt our friends, and he was going to take us to someone who would... hurt us again... but we hurt him really, really bad before he could.

... all we had to do was... stop him, not... that.

We really are fucked up. There's no justifying it. We took a life. Again. What gives us the right?
We need a (grand)dad
Right to Survival. Can't take half-measures in the world she's in. She made sure he stayed down.
But "again"? Did I miss her killing someone already?
Law's sister
The guy back in Thread 8. While Del doesn't know, she's convinced he couldn't have survived and is beating herself up over it.

She also blames herself for Michele's death, unaware that she took an overdose rather than to deal with the police.
What? That's not meta. Her world is pretty crapsack.
Sure, but that's not the part I was referring to.
Oh? Missed it then- what were ya talking about?
The justification for what gives her the right to take a life.
Okay, you lost me- how's saying 'the right to survival' is meta? Genuine question.
Teenage girl. Survivor's guilt.

It's easy to tell someone to just get over it when you're watching from the outside.
"Um..." You try to decide if it's alright to talk about something like this, especially with a stranger. This guy was a solider though, that means he's probably had to deal with the same thing before. It's not as if you'll need to go in full detail anyway, but what you can get out now might help to lift the weight from your shoulders.

"I've hurt someone. Badly, way more then I should have." You hope that you emphasize that last part enough for him to understand. "He hurt my friends, and then he wanted to um...to take me away, to someone who was going to hurt me. But all I had to do was stop him, not k-...maim him. I feel sick every time I think about his f-face..."

You have to fight the urge to dry heave right now, even more so when you've remembered everything else you've done in the past. The alleyway, the store with the women, in your bedroom...

Each time you've been in this situation there's been a twisting ball of hate in your stomach, writhing around and pushing you to keep hurting them. No matter how much you try to rationalize it, try to tell yourself they deserved it for trying to hurt you first, it makes you feel wretched, as if another part of you is ripped away and expanding the ever growing hole in your chest.

"And to make it worse it's not the first time I've done something like that either..." You mumble, hand coming up to your chest. It's almost as if you expect there to be a gaping hole there, but instead you feel only the ring.

"Eh? That it?" The man speaks up after your trailing silence. You can only muster a nod before he continues speaking. "And here I thought you went and robbed a bank or something."

"I hurt someone though...!" You speak louder, unsure if he heard you properly from before. "I mean like, way more then I should have...I...I-"

You took a life, didn't you?

"I don't have the right to do something like that." You're not crying, but it feels like your eyes are burning, tears coming up. If anything you feel frustrated, and mostly with yourself.

"You said whoever this guy is was trying to hurt ya first, right? Hurt your friends or whatever? All you did was fight back and make sure you weren't the one on the ground. Ain't your fault if he started a fight he couldn't finish."

"Then why does it make me feel so...so sick. I can't stop thinking about it, and it just...it hurts," You know you should take to heart what he's saying, but it's as if there is a barrier preventing you from doing so. "I can't stand it."

"Just cause it's not your fault, doesn't mean ya can just walk away from something like that. Ya know, I think I'd be more scared if you didn't feel the tiniest bit of guilt bout it." The man gestures around the room as he speaks. "Even these ole bastards have trouble sleeping over what they did overseas. You get a gun pointed at your face and you have to decide, 'it's either you or me'. Course some of us get over it quicker then others but, eh. Maybe you should ask one of them boys who went over Ukraine. They always seem to be complaining about nightmares and the like."

It looks like he's making a jab at soldiers like John at the end, but he stands up before speaking again, grabbing his cane.

"Sorry to cut this short, but it's bout time for us to lock up. And it's probably not gonna stick with ya too good, but lemme just leave you with what advice I can. You're gonna feel bad about it, but you just gotta remind yourself that it's alright. You're a little girl, if a grown-ass man attacks you and ends up bleeding all over the place then it's his fault. You're just doing what ya need to survive, and that ain't a crime. If it still gets to ya, then focus on doing good things. Might help balance your conscious out a bit."

"Okay..." You aren't sure what else to say to his advice, and the man nods at you before walking off to go talk to a man cleaning up in the kitchen. Sam isn't back yet, if he doesn't return when they close up does that mean you'll have to wait outside? That doesn't sound like too great of an option for you...

Staying in place, you watch as most of the men shuffle out and say their goodbyes to one another. A few of the younger ones remain to wipe down the tables, put up chairs, clean the kitchen...basic clean up. Every minute that passes makes you feel worried, you don't want to get kicked out and forced to wait for Sam outside. Even if you are in one of the alright parts of town you still don't find the idea appealing. You haven't been out by yourself in forever...

Looking around and seeing that the handful of remaining people are busy, you remember the upstairs. Hardly anyone goes up there, right? Maybe you can hide out there till Sam comes back...

Do you want to try and wait upstairs till Sam returns? There might be a window or something for you to look out of to see if he came back, and maybe after everyone else leaves then you can come downstairs and wait for him instead...

Or would it be a better idea to wait outside the building for him?
I guess. It's just I'm starting to wonder why she's being so gunshy about it when she's been raped/assaulted, and generally treated like shit by a bunch of very persistent people. You'd think that had to start affecting her mindset of 'what do I do to survive these encounters and make them stop' a bit.
...man, my timing is horrible.
Sneak upstairs and hide. Maybe we can crawl out a window when Sam comes back or something, but for the time being we can at least stay warm. Maybe wash our face.

Sure, unfortunately rape survivors don't "get over" these things so fast, and I think Sue is sticking by her guns on keeping things more or less realistic.
Being inside the building while you wait for Sam is the more desirable option, even if that means you have to sneak around.

Making sure no one is looking over in this direction, you stand out of your seat and back up to the staircase. They all seem busy with each other and you slip away in silence upstairs. Where as the downstairs was one large room, the upstairs has two halls with the occasional door. You already know where the restroom is, and take the time to find a room that faces out to the street. It seems to be a meeting place, with tables and chairs set up in a circle. There's a closet available for you to hide if needed, and the door locks from the inside.

You take a seat by the window, able to look out to the street easily enough. The sun has begun to set, though there is still some time before night. Any time there's a sound in the hallway you prepare to jump up and hide, but it doesn't seem like anyone needs to come into this room. Soon enough the noise downstairs quiets down, and watching out the window the stream of people leaving turns into a trickle.

Even when the sound downstairs has died down completely, you remain where you are. Better to be on the safe side, even if waiting here is absolutely boring. As the light outside begins to diminish, you decide it would be okay to go downstairs. You would be able to see Sam through the glass of the front doors anyways, you just need to try and avoid being seen from the outside.

Your heart is pounding when you open the door, flinching as the door creaks open. It seems so loud right now, and you expect someone to come racing up the stairs.

It appears to be only you in this lonely hallway, and you pray that it applies to downstairs too. You do everything you can to calm your nerves before taking light steps down the steps, cursing to yourself with every creak. It takes much longer then it should, but you manage to the reach the bottom step and look around the now empty room. All the lights are off, and it's growing steadily darker outside. You do your best to look around, not wanting to illuminate this place up since you're just a stow away. At least you can tell for sure that no one else is inside, and this is a relief. Sort of, anyways...

You walk over to the kitchen, deciding it might not be too bad for you to see if there's anything you could eat. Not that you'll take much, just something to help settle your stomach. The fridge doesn't have much, but there is a bag of apples inside that look appealing. Taking one out, a thought hits you.

This place is bound to have supplies, right?

What if you looked around and tried to find stuff that you could...'borrow'?

Stealing from a place like this doesn't settle well with you, but what if there's an emergency? Maybe you guys could have done more for John if you actually had stuff on hand. What if something bad happens again? All you have is the knife and pepper spray, there's not much you can do to actually help someone with that.

You go and explore some of the closets, deciding to only look for now. Sure enough you find some basic first-aid supplies, travel sized toiletries, blankets, and the like. They're set aside in boxes labeled with Hand outs, but it doesn't look like they've been touched in a while.

You know it might be good to take some with you, but that doesn't make you feel better about it at all.

Do you want to try and swipe some supplies, or just leave them all alone?

I have to head out for a bit tonight, see you guys later
Leave them all alone, we shouldn't steal
take some supplies, leave a couple bucks on the box( if we have any left) to show that we arent a thief ,just in need
We could make better use of some of these things, couldn't we? It might be nice to have a blanket if we're stuck sleeping outside. But we can't just take the things...

Maybe if we wrote a note saying we're sorry, but we needed to borrow some stuff? Maybe left a few dollars?

... what if these are handouts from the post, not to the post, though? That'd be... embarrassing.
No steal pls
We can ask Sam if it'd be okay to take some of it when he arrives
There's a deep and rising conflict in your chest about this. These supplies would really be useful, and it's not as if you guys have a good supply at hand. It's hard to tell if these are for or to the post though, not that it makes you feel good about it either way.

It's a tough choice, and your conscious feels even heavier then before, but you decide to grab one of the mini first-aid kits and a travel blanket. The blanket isn't too big or thick, and while that makes it easier to carry it also means it won't be as warm as a real blanket. Having no where else to put them you slip the two items between your body and hoodie, hoping the outline of the first-aid kit isn't too obvious. Looking at the old dusty box you can't help but continue to feel guilty, and decide to leave five dollars in place of the supplies.

Closing the door, you think about how one of those backpacks in there would have been useful, but you'd rather Sam not know that you took things from the post. Still, it might be good to try and find something like that to use instead of trying to carrying everything in your pockets or the huge dufflebag. Speaking of which, you really wish you had that right now. A change of clothes would be nice, especially with the bottom of your dress ripped the way it is. Pair that with a rather unsightly hoodie and you really do look homeless.

The only thing you can do right now is wash your face clean, which you do in the kitchen. You're disgusted by how filthy the paper towel looks after you are done, but at least that junk is no longer on your face. Your eyes feel much better from earlier too, but they still water up occasionally. At least you only got a little bit in your eyes, especially compared to that other man.

And now, you have the faces of at least two of the men chasing you memorized. It might be handy in the future, but you'd rather not have to see either of them ever again.


You've been sitting on the floor trying to pass the time when you recognize Sam's limping by the front door. Jumping up, the door unlocks as Sam walks in with the man from earlier. You can't help but notice that John is nowhere nearby, and neither of them look too happy. Approaching them, you try to make sure the items you 'borrowed' are hidden behind your arms. The other man, Daniel, greets you before going upstairs.

"Why's it dark in here? You could have kept one of the lights on," Sam says, looking around. "They didn't make you sit here in the dark, did they?"

"But they were closing up...? I thought they would have made me leave, so I um...I hide upstairs till they all left."

"Dan told the other staff members that we were coming back. They wouldn't have kicked you out," Sam's exhausted, if his face didn't tell you that then his voice would have. "I guess you're wondering about John, aren't you?"

You can only nod, and Sam leans up against the wall to rest. You're terrified to hear the answer, all sorts of scenarios racing through your mind.

"We went in a car, Dan's, so we were able to get there soon enough. John wasn't anywhere nearby when we came up, Warren either."

"They took John then, didn't they?" You are only capable of whispering this part, terrified of confirmation.

"I can't tell you for sure what happened, but just because John wasn't there it doesn't mean that they got him," Sam touches at his bruised eye, wincing at his own touch. "Lawrence could have gotten there first, we just don't know for sure. I doubt either of Warren's friends had a vehicle though, and carrying away two injured men seems like quite an endeavor. If you were to ask me, I'd guess that if they did something with John then they would have done it right there, wouldn't have bothered moving him."

Sam is doing his best to be reassuring, but it sounds like he's also doing it for his own sake.

"You didn't see Lawrence either, did you?" You ask, not bothering to hide your sorrow over it. Sam shakes his head, and while you hate not knowing where he is you also hope that means he got to John first.

Daniel comes back down the stairs, a crutch in hand. Sam thanks him as he takes it, adjusting the length and finally being rid of the rake handle.

"Haven't needed to bring out the donation box in a while, better for this stuff to be put to good use rather then laying around gathering dust," Daniel says, turning off the lights again. "Are you ready to head out now?"

"Yeah, thanks again for this Dan," Sam says, walking about much easier now.

"It's not a problem Sam. You said it's over on Bell Street, yeah?"

Wait, is Daniel taking you guys somewhere? You follow behind Sam as he walks out, waiting for Daniel to lock the place up.

"Yeah, you know how to get there, right? Bit past the mall, like you're going towards the bridge."

"I got it, just point me in the direction when we get closer and I'll have you buy me a beer later," Daniel says, leading you over to a parked car. Not that it's new or an expensive model, but it's a well kept car for what it is. You hold Sam's crutch for him as he gets into the front seat, and you take your spot in the back. You haven't got the slightest clue about where you guys are going right now, you're not sure if you even recognize Bell Street. Still, you feel like you can trust Sam on this.

As Daniel pulls into the street, you notice there is a bag by your feet. Taking the best look that you can, it looks as though there are plenty of documents and folders inside. You wouldn't be so interested in them if you hadn't seen the name Marilyn written on one of them.

Do these belong to Sam? Did he end up going somewhere else? That would explain why they took so long getting back then...

Up front, Sam and Daniel seem to be discussing something, their voices low and hushed. Are they just tired or are they trying to hide it from you? It feels awkward, just sitting here in the back if that's the case.

You could just remain silent and try to pick out what they're saying. If you do that then maybe you can try and take a better look at what's inside the bag. You shouldn't try to move it directly, but if you try hard enough you can probably see what some of the stuff inside is.

Or maybe you should try to talk to them about something else?
Stay quiet and try to discern what they're talking about. Maybe it's about us.

... or John. Maybe Sam lied to try and not upset us, like with Warren.

Try to sink down so we're not spotted from outside, at least we can try to make sure no one's going to come after this guy Daniel while looking for us...
You lean your head against the seat in front of you, facing away from the window. It might seem silly, but you wouldn't want to risk anyone from the outside recognizing you inside Daniel's car. He seems nice, and you wouldn't want to cause him any more trouble.

Being like this lets you listen in to their conversation too, though it's a bit difficult for you to hear their hushed conversation over the sounds of the car. Maybe you're just really tired too, sitting like this with a the car gently shaking certainly doesn't help in keeping you awake.

"...-think he'd be at a civvie one?" Daniel's voice whispers.

"It'd be the closest one to the field, and if he wasn't already at the VA clinic..."

"Always said he hated hospitals though. Think he would have gone?"

"Better have. Looked like he moved from where he was when we left. Dan, you saw how much blood there was, there's no way he was getting far."

"We didn't see anyone near by though...even if he did get up and move then we should have been able to see him."

"They blood lead to the door, that doesn't help me feel too good about it..."

"Jesus, how does this happen? Soldiers shouldn't be fighting like this after they've finished their fight," Daniel says dejectedly, as if this isn't the first time such a thing has happened. Neither men speak another word, and you can feel the anguish of the situation in the air. They had to be talking about John, right? Or was it Warren going towards the door? Both of them were bleeding something awful, and you doubt Warren would do any better then John.

That is, if Warren wasn't already dead when you left.

Your stomach hurts again, and you decide to close your eyes for now. The rocking of the car is nice, but a bed would be nicer right now.

Once again, you think back to where Lawrence is. Did he see what you did to Warren? Would he think you were some kind of weirdo?

Even if he does think that, all you really want from him right now is a hug.


You must have dozed off. As the car comes to a stop, you open your eyes to a much darker view.

Sitting up, you notice that while the street is lit up fairly well, the businesses nearby are closed. A hardware store, flower shop, restaurant...all of them mom-and-pop places closed for the evening. There is the shine of a neon glow a bit further down the street, and from what you can guess it's a bar. The cars parked on the street seem to suggest that it's not too busy, but the occasional man passing on the sidewalk doesn't make you feel too good.

"You sure this is fine, Sam?" Daniel asks, putting the car into neutral.

"You've got a wife to head home to. Enjoy your night, and thanks for helping me with this," Sam turns towards you now. "Could you bring my crutch up front?"

You don't like the idea of walking out here, but you follow Sam's order. You step outside, crutch in hand as Sam begins to step out.

A small group of men stand outside the bar door, talking with each other as they wait for a cab. It feels like their eyes are on you, but when you take a peek towards them they aren't even looking at you. If anything, they are avoiding looking at you at all.

It's because you look dirty, isn't it?

The back of the bar is a parking lot, just a cement paves block with about five cars parked around. A fence divides up the block, the tall wooden planks preventing you from seeing into the next lots. It's mostly quiet, but you can hear the occasional car or group of people pass by on the streets up front. There's a spot in the alley for the cars to come and go from, but as you imagined it's not all that busy.

"Here, you can stand by the door. Only people who really use this are workers, and they shouldn't bother you none," Sam says, approaching the back entryway himself. "I won't be long, but I have to speak to my friend."

"Okay...please be quick," You don't want to sound scared, but Sam notices it all the same.

"I'm so sorry about this, but hopefully when I'm done here I'll have a place for us to sleep tonight."

You watch as Sam enters into the door and slips inside the bar. From the quick glimpse you got, it doesn't seem all too busy. Hopefully that means he will be done quick...


As you wait outside, you start to grow calmer. The occasional loud laugh from the front of the bar makes you jump, but for the most part it's peaceful. It's boring standing there with your back against the wall, and your legs are starting to get kind of cold. Walking around will help you warm up, so you decide that patrolling around the parking lot won't be a bad idea.

As you pass by the alley, there's the sound of movement out by the fence. It sounds like a cat meowing, and it sounds stuck somewhere.

Do you want to go take a look for the cat, or stay in the parking lot?

Sorry about the extra wait, I got pulled away by IRL stuff involving my landlord and a possible custody issue, sorry sorry!
Get the cat
Check to make sure no one's watching, then see if we can find the cat.
no dont get the cat. Stay there and wait for Sam. When he gets back we can look for it. Can't just be wandering off when half the city is looking for us

It's not like we can get a pet anyway in our condition
No one said anything about pets, but we could at least help it. All we've done lately is get others hurt.

We can wait a bit, though. It's a cat, so maybe it'll get itself free.
You look around, seeing that you're alone, before peeking around the fence into the alley. If the cat can get itself free then all the better, but you would feel awful if it was stuck somewhere that you could have helped. Scanning the alley, you locate the location of the sound.

Just an old dumpster, a little bit down the way. You remember cats by your old house would sometimes jump inside when it was warm, someone must not have realized that there was one in there when they closed it. There's no way that cat will be able to get out on their own, and if it's only stuck in the dumpster then it should be okay to help. It'll just take a second, and then you won't have to feel bad about it. The man from the VFW post said that doing good things would help you feel better, right?

Still, you take extra caution in looking around. There's no one in sight, only the sound of a car passing by up front. The alley is muddy from snow, but not dangerous looking in the slightest. You slip past the fence and rush over to the grimy dumpster, the sound of the cat growing louder. You throw open the cover of the dumpster, expecting the kitty to jump out. The meows don't stop, and from the sounds of it the cat is stuck.

You scan around the darkness, trying to spot fur. You're confused as to why you don't see any till a tied up plastic bag begins to move. Your heart races and you reach and grab for the bag, almost falling in as you snag the handle. You don't bother trying to untie the knot, and instead rip apart two layers of plastic to reveal the black kitty inside.

You step back from the dumpster, the bundle of fur in your hands. The poor young cat looks scared, and try to calm it by petting it's head.

"It's okay...you're fine now," You whisper, the round yellow eyes coming to look up at you. "How terrible...thrown away like that...who would do something so aw-"

You're cut short by a hand on your shoulder, a strong grip and the smell of alcohol.

"Help me out here." A man's voice slurs from behind, your entire body locking up. Why is he holding you so tightly? Why is he talking to you at all? You don't know him.

You scan around to see if there's anyone else around, wanting to call for help. You try to do so anyways but the words are stuck in your throat. The fear grows as your shoulder is tugged back.

"Hey, say somethin'."

"P-Please let g-go of me," Your voice is hardly above a whisper.

"What? What'd you say? I can't uh...can't hear you!" The man is loud, trying to force you to turn and look at him. The alcohol is heavy on his breath, and that frightens you.

"L-Let me go..." You repeat, no louder then before. This time you tug your shoulder away from his grip, trying to take steps forward. The cat remains in your arms, but it offers you no comfort in this moment. "P-Please don't h-hurt m-me..."

"Hey! I'm just tryna ask for some help!"

You can deal with the slurred yelling, that's fine. Everything will be fine if he's just talking, just walk away and around the block and you'll be okay.

When the man grabs your wrist, all rational thought leaves you. The only thing you can think of is fight or flight...run or defend yourself. You hate the grip on you, you hate that this man is just coming up and touching you like this, you hate the way he smells like alcohol and talks too loud.

You absolutely hate how it feels like you can't escape his grasp.

It reminds you too much of the bedroom, being held on your bed like this, arms behind your back, holding you in place, preventing you from moving, keeping you from running away while Bower did what he pleased to you...

He says something, but you barely register the words he's saying. Just hearing a man's voice right now ignites your instinct.


"LET ME GO!" You scream, the sudden loudness startling the man enough to loosen his grip. You take the chance to rush out of there, sprinting out of the alley. You won't let him try to take you away again, you won't. He's a man from the bar, he's drunk, he touched you, that's not okay, it isn't fine.

Nothing is alright.

You run from the alley and on to the side walk, not breaking your sprint as you run past all the closed buildings. Your lungs are burning from the cold air, and your legs are aching from the sprint, but you don't stop. You can't, what if catches up with you, what are you supposed to do?

In your race to get away from the drunken man, you run into the street and have to avoid a car. Even when it comes to a screeching stop and the driver yells at your dangerous move you don't stop. You can't, you have to keep going, you have to.

Soon your steps become unsteady and you're starting to trip, chest on fire. You dip into a lone alley, kneeling down beside a dumpster and out of view. You clutch the cat close to your chest and begin to sob, first out of fear and then out of anger towards yourself.

That man hadn't been chasing you, had he?

You can somewhat recall his words from earlier.

"I'm lost, could ya just help me find my car?"

He wasn't trying to hurt you, was he? That man was drunk, but he was just asking for help.

That does nothing to make you feel better.

He still grabbed you, snuck up on you...if he had been someone terrible..

If he had been those men following you, then you'd already be on your way to Bower's hands.

How the hell could you let yourself be so careless? And now that you've ran off like this, you have to go and try to find your way back. Sam is going to be worried sick when he doesn't see you there waiting for him...

The cat mews in your grasp, licking at the corner of your thumb. And now you have this with you, you can barely take care of Buttercup as it is.

There is a small comfort in carrying the cat around right now, even if there's not much it can do as a cat. Still, you're worried about getting attached to it...

It looks so little though, will it survive on it's own? It was loud, but it couldn't even get out of the plastic bags on its own.

Do you want to carry the cat around for now or let it go?
Carry around the cat
Carry it around for now, maybe caring for it will at least ease our conscience. Plus, cats are supposed to not eat that much and are natural hunters, right?

... but if it wants to go, let it go. It doesn't have to be stuck with... us.
There's no harm in carrying the cat around, at least for a little bit. If anything else, holding him at least makes you feel a bit better. You pet and play with his soft ears for a bit, trying to think about the way the fur feels between your fingertips rather then what has just happened.

You realize that every moment that you spend crouched down here in this alley is another moment for Sam to come out and see that you're missing. Standing up, you decide to put your furry companion inside your hoodie for now. It'd keep him warm, and you don't have to worry about holding him the entire time. He's nestled in between body and the blanket you've already stowed away, and you start to sneak out of the alley. Once you feel the coast is clear you start walking back down where you had been running, trying to figure out how much distance you've covered.

As you're walking, there's that growing sense that you've been around this area before, but you can't quite put your finger on it. Waiting for the walking signal to turn green on the corner, you look up at the adjacent street name. You've must have came this way before, right?

Crossing over, you can see the lights of the bar far off in the distance start to appear. You've really made some traction, haven't you? It's kind of annoying now that you have to walk all the way back, and these boots weren't really made for that. Maybe you can look towards getting some new shoe-

You catch a glimpse of yourself in a store window, and it feels like both your legs and heart have stopped working.

You remember what street this is now.

It's hard to forget, now that you are looking through the glass door of the camp store. The shelves and glass displays are all there, the counter and cash register, that damn back room door...

This is the place where those two men locked you in the back and raped you.

You start to back away from the door, feeling a sinking pit in your stomach. It feels awful, you feel awful...

As you try to keep the bile down, you can see a paper taped to the inside of the door, and the seal of the police department on the bottom. Skimming over it, this is what you pick out of the information;

Establishment will be closed till further notice.

Store Owner, Alex Burgess, has been missing since the day of the burglary.

If you have any information of the break in or Burgess's whereabouts, then please leave us a tip at the numbers listed below.

Taking some more steps back, you can see that someone has taken paint to the windows. Either the snow or someone has attempted to remove the words, but they are clear enough for you to pick up on what they said.


Hope you burn

You couldn't agree more.

Standing here any long may cause you to lose anymore of the contents of your stomach, and the kitty is starting to grow restless. You take your leave from the place, repeating the information you just learned.

At least one of the men who've hurt you is missing.

You're not sure how to feel about it, but it's information that you hold onto anyways. When you see Lawrence, you'll let him know.

...you really miss him right now.

You keep a careful watch on any car that passes by. Coming up closer to the bar, you decide to enter the alleyway to avoid passing by people. Your plan starts to go sideways though as you notice a police car sitting in the alley, light flashing and right next to the bar's driveway.

You stop where you are at the end of the alley. When did police come? You can't recall hearing any sirens from earlier. There's the slightest smell of...smoke? Maybe?

You can't really enter that back way right now, but you aren't sure what else you should do...where's Sam? Maybe he's still inside? You can't just...go inside, can you?

What's going on with the officer though? Could you sneak a peek? Maybe...that sounds kind of risky though.

If you do go inside, it'll have to be through the front...

Or maybe you need to wait for the officer to leave? Can't do it in the alley obviously, you'll need to find somewhere to hide.

What do you do?
Maybe it'll be fine? The cops wouldn't be here for us, so if we just act like we belong it'll be fine, right? We could... poke our head in and see if Sam's there.

... it's not like someone would try to grab us with the cops right around the corner, right?
If anyone asks we were looking for our cat with our uncle or something but he's disappeared
It doesn't look to be too big of an emergency, despite the flashing red and blue lights. You check to make sure the kitty is still fine in your hoodie before approaching the scene. You're doing your best to keep your distance, looking to see what the problem is.

From the distance it looks like the officer is standing by a parked car. Coming in closer, you can see that the car has ran into the car in front of it. The man from earlier is standing by the small wreckage, talking with the officer. Or at least attempting to, anyways. He's drunk, and even from here it's obvious that he should not have gotten behind the wheel. The officer is taking down his information, and two more men come out from the back. They start talking with the officer, apparently the owners of the other wrecked vehicle.

You wait there, watching them go about their business. More importantly, you are trying to keep an eye out for Sam when Sam comes out. The officer has his hands full, but he looks over occasionally. You're trying your best to not look suspicious, but just standing there isn't helping your case any.

Slinking by, you walk past the cars and stand on the other side, waiting by a dumpster. Your view isn't as good, but this way the officer can't see you, and once he drives away it'll be in the opposite direction.

Standing there waiting, you reach inside to pet the kitten. He's settled against your chest now, his breaths tickling your neck. You hope Sam won't make you put him down, not here anyways. Maybe if you find him a nice place to let him go later on...

Fifteen minutes have passed, and while one person comes out and drives off in their car it's only the three men and the officer. It looks like he's got the information he's needed though, and steps back inside the cruiser. You're unprepared for when he turns the car around, and it feels like you can't duck away quick enough to hide. With baited breath, you watch the car come to the end of the alley, pausing for a moment before turning out to the street. It sounds like the two men that came out earlier are talking, and though you don't really want to do it you decide to walk over.

Trying to keep to yourself, you walk up to the drive through, looking around for Sam. The drunk man has already gone back inside, leaving you alone with these two. Your heart races when you feel them looking over at you, the feeling of fear and the need to run away growing inside.

"H-...Have you two um..." Your voice shakes, but you know that talking to them might be helpful right now. "Have you seen Sam-...er, this older man...white hair, walks with a crutch...um, m-missing a leg?"

The first man shakes his head, and it looks like the second one is going to do the same but he snaps his fingers.

"Oh wait, I know who you're talking about! He's ah, friends with Jerry. Comes down here a lot, but never drinks, plus that missing leg makes him stick out-"

"Do you know where he is?" You feel bad for interrupting, but you don't like being on your own outside like this. "Is he still inside? D-Do you think I could g-go in and get him?"

"Was he your ride? I'm pretty sure he left a couple minutes ago with his friend."

Your heart sinks at this. Sam wouldn't have left you for real, would he?

"Are you serious?" You ask, and the man nods.

"Yeah, pretty sure. Course that was about the same time that I found out my car got totaled but uh...you alright? You look kind of pale..."

You try to keep your composure, trying to do everything you can to keep steady demeanor.

"Wait, he just left you out here while he went inside?" The other man speaks up, sounding more annoyed then the first man. "That's pretty irresponsible, isn't it? You're just a kid."

You look back towards the bar's door, trying not to panic. Why would he have left? He said he would be right out...

Unless...he saw that you were gone. If he was worried that you ran off somewhere, would he have gone out to look for you? Maybe he asked his friend to help him...could that have been one of the cars that passed by you? Not that you would have known what to look for of course, but maybe that means Sam is out there trying to find you and doesn't realize that you've already come back here.

"T-Thank you for the help..." You back away from the parking lot, ignoring the man trying to ask you questions. You go to the alley, crouching behind a dumpster again.

You have no idea where Sam is right now, but maybe he's looking for you. In that case, what should you do? What if the police come back, or one of the guys call them because you're hanging around the parking lot alone?

Maybe you shouldn't try to stay here. You could try to leave a note for Sam to find, and find somewhere to hang out till day time.

Would this street be safe enough? An alley here? You don't know this area too well, and the camping store being so close by it doesn't help make you feel any better.

There's...the apartments, with the rest of the group. But that's a risky thing, you don't want to try and bring any more attention to them over there.

You also have the address to the apartments that some of Faraway's girls live at. Staying there could be an option, but that means traveling down that way...

Damn, it's getting colder...

It's entirely possible that those guys were mistaken about him leaving right?

They only think he left? He could still be In there also if I recall he dosent have a car so he couldent have gotten far right?

Maybe we should go over to those guys and tell them that if they see him (if they are going back inside) that we are getting kinda cold or something of that nature to speed him up a little
If Sam is looking for us, he'd be in the area, right? He'd probably figure we'd come back here, so it might be better if we stay...

If there was just some kind of shelter, like an abandoned car or unattended basement.
What if there's a chance that Sam is still inside? The guy mentioned that he only thought Sam had left, maybe he was mistaken? You need to know for sure, before you end up running off and doing something stupid.

Not that it's hard for you to do something stupid...

Back at the parking lot, you're disappointed to see the two men have gone back inside. It's not like you can waltz right in either, but taking a peek through the door might be helpful. Approaching the door, you try to prepare yourself for anyone who might come through. It doesn't seem too busy back here, and you get up to the door just fine. Opening it a crack, you peer inside. This is the back of the bar, the corner of the counter in sight. The low lighting doesn't help illuminate too much, it is just enough enough for you to see the tables and chairs set up all around. There's not too many customers left, but try as you might none of them look to be Sam. You continue to look, but a man walks out from the counter. He looks over to where you're standing, and you feel your heart skip a beat before closing the door.

The guy is much faster then you thought, and the door is swung open before you can run off to hide. He's young, maybe college age, and from his name tag it's obvious he's an employee here.

"Can I help you?" He asks, and your mind scrambles together to put together a coherent sentence.

"I w-was j-...just looking for m-my...my uncle," You stammer out. "H-...His name is S-Sam? He's a-an older guy with one l-leg...is he s-still inside?"

"Sam? I think that's the boss's friend..." The man mummers. "Pretty sure your uncle left with him. Jerry put us in charge for the night, said he had an emergency. Doesn't look like his car is back here either."

"Did they mention if they were going to come back...?"

"He has to. Jerry's the only one with the keys to the safe and to lock up the place. Don't know how long that'll be though," He looks over you as he speaks. "You're all alone out here?"


"Jesus kid, aren't you freezing?"

Yes, you are.

"No, I have my h-hoodie," You shake your head, hoping that you don't look like you're shivering. "Do...do you know where I could maybe um...maybe hang out for a bit? While I w-...wait for my uncle to come back?"

"Uh..." The guy is thinking, and from the expression on his face you can tell he thinks this whole thing is weird. Not that you blame him for that.

"...you know what? I do know a spot," The man walks out and gestures you to follow him. He leads you to the front of the bar, standing on the sidewalk as he points across the street. "See those outside stairs? The ones leading up to the second story? That's just a tailoring shop, the family live upstairs. They're on vacation right now though. If you want, you can hide out beneath those steps, should block out the wind and make it hard for anyone to see you."

"Oh, okay," You hate the thought of staying outside, but if there's some sort of cover over your head and a way to block the wind then it's better then nothing. "Will you tell my um...uncle where I am then when he comes back?"

"Sure thing kid," He sounds less enthusiastic about that part. You also find it strange how eager he was to tell you the spot you can stay, but there's not much other choice you have at the moment. You thank him and wait for the streets to look clear before bounding over. The staircase is a thin metal one, going from the sidewalk up to the second story door. The building is older, but pretty cozy looking. Even in the winter night, the red brick looks warm. The steps have kept too much snow from landing beneath it, and you manage to nestle yourself underneath the stairwell.

You decide that now would be a good time to bring that blanket out to use. Placing the kitty out to walk around for a bit, you unfold the thin blanket and wrap it around yourself before placing the black cat back against your chest. It sucks, sitting here in the cold. The concrete is freezing and hurts to sit on, but at least the wind isn't biting at your skin anymore.

Passing the time, you play with the kitten a bit, noticing that it's become a bit sluggish. Maybe it's hungry, just like you are. When you find Sam you'll see about getting food for the two of you. For now you decide to pet him instead, letting him fall asleep against your chest.

You wanted to stay awake, not that you really thought it would be easy to fall asleep here. Turns out you're more exhausted then you thought, and your eyes have trouble staying open. You'll just rest your eyes for a bit...


It seems like the only thing you can see in your dreams is Warren's face, his remaining eye looking at you while the rest of his face crumbles away. He opens his mouth to talk, but only a scream comes out.


When you look down at your hands, the only thing you're holding is the flagstaff, bloodied and bent.

You should be disgusted, but all you feel is hunger.


You're pulled out of this dream with the slam of a car door. You figure it must be someone going home, but footsteps are coming towards you. Before you can try and find a place to hide, a light is shined at your face. Attempting to squint past it, you can see that an officer is holding the flashlight.

"Sorry about that," He says, moving the light away from your face. The officer kneels down to look at you at eye level, light pointed towards the ground. Your trying to keep your breathing in check, but it's proving difficult to do so.

"Relax, I'm just here to help you," The officer must notice your panic. "We got called over here, someone said a minor had been left outside."

You say nothing, holding the cat closer to your chest.

"Kid, if you don't mind me asking, what are you doing out here?"
Ahhh that kid at the bar ratted us out! Shoulda known from how eager he was, I bet this guy is in on it... No proof yet tho

>my uncle gotdrunk and forgot me out here, if he try's to get us to go home, We could give the prostitute house as our place of residence?

If he gets to insistent we gotta resist

If at all possible we stay and wait claiming we called him not to long ago from a pay phone/ mOm n pop shop nearby

I'd like some other anons opinions tho
I'd rather not imply that Sam was neglectful.

Say that he told us to wait outside for a moment while he talked to a friend, but we heard a kitten cry out and went to help it. He must have gone looking for us in the meantime, so we are waiting here for him to get back.
Waiting for our uncle. He had to talk with someone and we wandered off because we heard a kitten crying, but he knows we're here and he's going to come by any minute.

... what if this is one of the cops the store owner said he knew? Are they all child molesters?

Alternately, we're staying with our 'dad' at his sister's place. Mr. Faraway.
Turn into a bat
Say you're just locked out pf your house
"Um...I...I'm..." You try to figure out a good excuse to use. The officer is talking in a nice way, but you can't help but fear him. The warning you heard from the camping store resonates in your head.

"My...uncle was with me, but he needed to talk to his f-friend for a moment. I w-was supposed to stay there and w-wait for him, but then I heard this kitten crying and I ran off to h-help it," You hold up the cat to show that you're telling the truth. "And w-when I came back he wasn't there, I think h-he's out looking for me right now...he should be back here soon."

"Soon isn't soon enough if it's not in the next five minutes. Here, come with me to the car for a moment, please." The officer extends his hand out, but you're too afraid to take it.

"I'm...not going to jail or something, am I?" You ask, huddling yourself closer in the corner.

"Of course not. I'm Officer Bloom, by the way. You don't have to use the officer part though. I just want us to wait by my car for a moment, and then we can see what to do from there, alright?" Bloom offers out his hand again, and you take it this time, keeping hold on the cat. It might have wanted to jump out of your hands, but you would rather not be alone at this time. Keeping the blanket wrapped around yourself, you follow Bloom to the squad car.

"So where did you say your uncle went?" Bloom leans against the trunk of his car as he asks.

"I...I don't know," You don't want to make Sam sound like a bad person, and leave out the part with the bar. "I just know he wasn't here when I came back, and I thought it would be better to wait for him here then to try and um...and wander off."

"I doubt he could have seen you from that spot, he must be worried sick about you."

"Y-..Yeah, but he should be back any minute now. I'll be fine waiting here," You say this and look up and down the street for any sign of Sam.

"Afraid I can't let you do that, I'm sorry," Bloom has a sympathetic look to his voice, but he speaks with an unwavering and official tone. "You're a minor, alone and outside past the ten PM curfew. I legally can not allow you to stay out here alone, and if your guardian isn't here in the next minute then I need to take you in."

"I-I thought you said I wouldn't go to jail..." You take some steps back. Running is stupid, but it feels like there is little else you can right now. There's no way you could go and sit in a jail cell, plus then they would know that you were living on the street. They'll see your mother is in the hospital, your grandmother is missing, and then you'll go to foster home. John's story comes back to you, and the panic you feel rises.

"I'm sorry, I scared you there, didn't I? You're technically breaking curfew, but you're not in trouble or anything. I'll just take you to the station where it's safe and warm, then we'll have to call your parents or guardian and then we can release you back in their care. Easy enough, right?"

No, it is not. You don't have any sort of guardian who can just release you, and then they'll know you have been living on the streets, and they'll send you to foster home...

"Well, you said he was your uncle, right? Do your parents live here? I can just drop you off there," Bloom offers this up, and you are ready to go into a panic again. You think over the situation quickly, thinking of anything to save your skin right now.

"My...dad is here, v-visiting his sister," You never really feel good about lying, but you've learned that you have slowly become better and better at it. "I have the number to her place but um...but I don't know the address here..."

"Alright, let's get in the car and we can call from there. Kinda cold out here, isn't it?"

"Do...do I have to sit in the back?" You feel embarrassed by that, what if someone sees you sitting back there? They'll think you're some kind of criminal.

"Nah, you have to go in the trunk."

Bloom is laughing, but you can only look at him in wide eyed fear.

"Er, that was a joke kid. You can sit up front with me. It's lot more comfy up there, just make sure you buckle up," Bloom walks over to the passenger side, opening the door for you. You've never been inside a cop car before, and as you crawl up front you can't help but feel like you shouldn't be touching anything. As Bloom comes around to take his seat, you look up and down the streets again for any sign of Sam.

"Alright, you got that number?" Bloom asks as he gets in, and you have to fumble around with the phone book paper. He's giving you a strange look over this, but doesn't question it either. You show him the number, and Bloom uses the radio to make the call. As you listen to the rings, you can't help but notice the time on the dashboard, 11:25. Faraway is going to be asleep right now, and you woke him up.

"Hello?" A woman's voice answers, Sharron.

"Hello ma'am. I'm Officer Bloom, I need to speak to..." He looks towards you for a name, and you whisper "Albert Faraway".

"I need to speak to Albert Faraway please. I have his daughter with me."

"Uh...okay, just give me a moment." Sharron sounds focused, but she goes off to find Faraway anyways.

"Pst, what's your name?" Bloom asks as you two wait for her return.

"D-...Bunny Faraway."

Bloom nods, and in the background of the phone you can hear Sharron talking to Faraway.

"Hello, Albert Faraway here."

"Yes, hello Mr. Faraway. I appear to have found your daughter, Bunny, on the Bell and Crossway street. She said she got separated from her uncle, and I need an address to bring her home to. She's not in trouble or anything, but I can't allow her outside with a guardian."

"Ah...? AH! I mean yes, um...may I speak with my...daughter?"

Bloom passes you the receiver and watches as you talk.


"Are you alright?"

"Y-Yeah, just lost..."

"Alright, you can tell me about it later then."

You hand it back over to Bloom, and he takes down the address before letting Faraway go.

"Okay, we're heading over then. I'll speak with your father for a moment, and then you're free to go," Bloom says as he starts to drive down the street. You continue to look out the window, unsure of what to do if you see Sam.

Is there anything you want to try to talk or ask the officer while you're with him?
There's not really much we can talk about, as we'd risk revealing information we shouldn't or arousing his suspicion further. We could ask him if what that taxi driver said was true, about Asians ruining the economy, but that'd be kinda weird. Probably.

We can just act ashamed of being caught out past curfew. Not like shame is new to us, anyway...
Tell him thank you for being such a nice man?
"Um...l-last time I was drove somewhere..." You decide to try and act like you're not both scared and embarrassed to be driven in a cop car. "The um...the driver talked about how...how A-Asians were ruining the e-...economy. Isn't that a-awful?"

Talking about something like this might make you look grownup, and maybe Officer Bloom won't think of you as some helpless child.

"Well, I hope they aren't," Bloom chuckles before continuing. "My mother's last name is Nguyen."

"A-Ah wait! I was j-just repeating what h-he said! I um...I don't think that you guys are ruining anything, er...I mean um..."

"You're fine, I promise. It's not the first time I've heard that, but usually it's some old guy yelling it at me," Bloom chuckles again, and you can't help but feel guilty about bringing this up. "You're just repeating what you've heard anyways. I wouldn't expect you to understand it all. Half the people parroting that stuff don't understand it anymore then you do, just remember to take it with a grain of salt."

"Y-Yes sir..." So long with trying to act adult and mature. You feel like Bloom should be chewing you out right now, but he's been so nice and polite so far. The uniform and badge still put you on edge, but his gentle tone does plenty to soothe you over. "Thank you for um...for being so nice, by the way."

"It's my job, course you might have been expecting someone big and scary. Not that I would blame you, but I really hope that you haven't had that experience before. Some of those guys can just get a tad bit ah...power hungry."

You think back to the cops you have met before. There was the first one you met, the one who gave you some cash and candy...he was pretty nice. And then when you was trying to help Timothy Matthews, there was that lady cop. She was a bit more stern, but it was just because she was trying to find that little boy, right? And now Officer Bloom...there are some nice cops.

But what if you meet ones that you were told about at the camp store? They could easily make you come to their car, drive you away, do what they like, hurt you however you want...

It would be awful too, wouldn't it? Like how it was in that store...if they're friends with those two men, then they have to be just as awful. As these memories bubble up, you feel a growing discomfort sitting here alone with Bloom. He's nice but...you always need to be on guard. If you let your shield down, then it's over. They'll take advantage and hurt you, plain and simple. Getting caught by an officer though...having that one drunk man creep up behind you, you've already failed at keeping your guard up. Better, you'll need to do better.

You have to.

Not answering Bloom, you let him drive in silence as you pet the cat. From the radio voices come and go, Bloom occasionally answering to them.

You're exhausted, you're dirty, and you're starving.

It's an awful situation, as usual.

Course, you wouldn't mind if you were with someone you knew though...

God, you miss Lawrence so much right now.


Bloom pulls into a residential street, driving slowly as he tries to locate the correct address. You notice that these houses are nice, bigger then the ones on your grandmother's street. They also seem newer and more modern, spouting brighter colors rather then the dreary ones of her street. If you recall correctly, grandma remarked these as being cheaper builds then the likes that she lived in.

To be honest, any house with a roof looks appealing to you right now.

"Right, this is?" Bloom asks, stopping in front of a two story house, bright blue paint on the front. Of course you haven't the slightest idea which one is Sharron's, but you nod anyways. Bloom parks on the street, waiting for you to get out with all your items before walking you up to the front porch.

The light outside is already on, and through heavy curtains a living room light peeks out. Waiting for an answer, you start to fear that this might not be the right place. When the door swings open, you almost think that it isn't.

Having only seen her in formal clothes and matriculate makeup and hair, seeing Sharron answer the door in sloppy pajamas and a messy bun makes it hard to recognize her.

"Um...h-hello, Aunty." You offer her a quick wave, noticing already from what you can see that her house is nice.

"AL!" Sharron turns to yell down the hall, her sudden loudness shocking you. "AL! Hurry up will you? The officer is here! You're making him stand in the cold!"

"I'm coming, please stop yelling."

"Then hurry up!" Sharron looks back to the two of you, putting on a warm and friendly smile. "He'll be right out."

"No wonder that poor boy is always wandering off, you still have the same loud mouth..." Faraway grumbles, and he replaces Sharron in the door. He's much closer to what you expect him to be in, tidy sleeping clothes and a robe drawn closed.

"Hi, D-Dad..." You give him a wave, and Bloom allows you to walk inside. You stand behind Faraway, listening as Bloom gives him a lecture on letting you be outside past curfew.

"Yes yes, I apologize officer. I'll make sure I keep a more careful eye on her," Faraway says, trying to appease Bloom.

"Just be lucky she got home safe. Not a lot of little girls lost on the streets do, you know."

"Believe me sir, I know."

Bloom takes more of Faraway's information down, mostly name, number, and address before waving goodbye to you and returning to his squad car.

"Sorry for intruding like this...I didn't want to come and bother you here but um...ah!" The cat jumps from your arms, scurrying off to look around. He runs into the kitchen, and you hear a loud exclamation of excitement. Sharron must have found him, soon enough there's the sound of a metal can opening and her voice cooing over the kitty.

"Well, at least you brought a housewarming gift," Faraway muses, trying to cover up a yawn. "You're not in trouble right now, are you? I mean, anything immediate?"

"No, I mean not really...I think I need to call a um...a bar though, to let my friend know that I'm safe right now..." Even if Sam isn't there you can at least leave a message for him.

"You sound tired. Sharron has the pull out couch ready for you, is that alright?"

"Yeah...anything is fine right now..."

"Hungry?" You nod to this, and Faraway leads you to the kitchen. Sure enough, Sharron is knelt down and petting the cat as he eats from a can of tuna. "Could you get Delilah something to eat please? She should get some food in her before heading to bed."

"Yeah, I can take care of her. You should turn in before you nod off right here. You've never been a night owl," Sharron stands up, turning to look into her pantry. You begin to wonder if she knows what Faraway's job is on the weekends.

"I agree, much past my bedtime. Please don't bombard her with too many questions, the poor girl needs to sleep-"

"I know what she needs Al, I am a mom. Go to sleep already," Sharron scolds, pulling out a box of cereal.

"so bossy...either way, I do need to return to bed. Just let my sister know if there's anything you need, she'll show you where everything is in the house, and we can talk in the morning."

You nod and thank him, Faraway retreating up the stairs. From in here, you can see the living room and a couch turned to bed ready for you to sleep in. You must be a big bother right now...

"Go ahead and sit down, no need to stand," Sharron places a box of cereal on the table, going to retrieve a bowl and spoon. "Hope this is alright."

"It is," You take your spot in a high back chair, and even this feels much too nice for you. This whole kitchen is so neat and tidy, and you're just a gross mess right now.

"Didn't think I would see you here, but hey. I'm glad you're in one piece."

Sharron even talks differently from her 'work mode', a mix of being friendly and motherly.

"Now, don't tell Al that I asked you, but what's going on? From what he's told me, there seems to be trouble going on."

How much does she know about what Faraway does? Would he tell his own sister that he ran a gentleman's club? What is okay to tell her anyways...what if telling her too much scares her and makes you think that you're just trouble?

Well, you kinda are trouble, aren't you?

What do you want to tell Sharron?
We... don't really need to tell her anything about Mr. Faraway, just that he's offered us help time and time again.

She's Mr. Faraway's sister, so she can be trusted though, right? Should be fine to tell her a man took something from us that he had no right to, something supposed to be ours to give away. He has enough money to get away with it, too. Enough to make others look for us so he can do it all over. Enough money to do the same to other girls and touting himself as some kind of paragon for... helping them.

Mr. Faraway... sorta helped prove that we could trust men we didn't know after we made the... mistake of trusting a stranger.
"Your brother has been helping me a lot," You start off, hoping to leave that part vague. Looking at your bowl of cereal, you try to think of how you can tell Sharron about what has happened. "I've um...I've been some trouble recently. There's this...this man. He took something away from me that he um, he had n-no right to. But there's n-nothing I can do about it...he hurt me, but he's a-able to get away with it. He's also rich enough to p-pay others to try and find me and b-bring me back, so he can hurt me a-again. And he h-...'helps' these other girls like me, and calls himself a good m-man but I think he only does that so he c-can hurt them too."

You rest your face in your hand, trying to fight back tears. You're exhausted, talking about this does nothing to help you feel better.

"But um...M-Mr. Faraway has been n-nice. He's...he's help me not to be s-so afraid of m-men, kinda anyways...I've um, I've made the m-mistake of trusting the wrong strangers before."

When you look up, Sharron looks like she's trying not to cry.

"Jesus Christ, you've been through something like that? You're so young," Sharron wipes away at her a moment, sniffling before continuing. "It really hurts my heart so hear that, especially as a mother. I can't imagine a kid like you going through anything like that. I'm just glad that Al could have been some kind of help. We fight a lot, and I might call him a prude but he's a good man. After Minnie died I worried about him closing up but...well, is there anything else I can get you tonight?"

"I think I just need to use your phone and a shower...d-do you have any clothes I could sleep in? I don't want to get your couch dirty..."

"Oh yeah, I'll get you something. You can use the phone in here if you need to, and I'll go find some extra clothes. Don't worry about being too loud, Al and Tim are asleep upstairs," Sharron gets up to go find you some clothes, and as you eat your cereal you watch the kitty eat his own food.

Once you finish, you place your bowl in the sink and come up to the phone on the wall, looking for the phone book. You struggle to remember the name of the bar, but after a few mix-ups and backtracking you manage to find the right number. Sharron comes back in with clothes at hand, waiting at the table as you make your call. A man answers the phone, and you're relieved to hear that it isn't the young guy from earlier.

"Um, hello. I need to leave a message for someone, or I guess talk to him if he's there...is a man named Sam in there?"

"Sam? Just got back with him, hold on..." The man calls out for Sam, and the phone changes hands.

"Delilah? Is that you?" Sam asks, and you instantly perk up.

"Yes! It's me! Um...I-I'm sorry I'm not the-"

"Where the hell are you? We've been driving up and down the street!" Sam's voice is frantic and loud, but it's from concern.

"With Mr. Faraway...er, a friend of mine. Lawrence and John know it is. A police officer saw me and said I was breaking curfew, and he made me come with him...I had to give him a house address or else he would have taken me to the police station," You decide to leave out the part where you had ran away, not wanting Sam to judge you for freaking out over nothing.

"I see, but you're safe there, right?"

"Yes, I'm fine here."

"Thank God, I was worried sick about where you'd run off to. I'm sorry about leaving you outside like that but there was a few things I had to take care of...will you be able to meet me tomorrow?"

"Um, I think so...where at though?"

"Ah, give me a moment to think of some places...we can go to whichever one you feel fine with," Sam begins to brainstorm as you wait there, Sharron sitting at the table behind you.

"Well, there's always the hospital Claire is at. The Plaza is a fairly open spot and there's plenty of buses that go that way...what about your friend's place? Could we meet there too?"

Sam is waiting for your response now. You don't want to bring everyone here, that would be too much of a burden for Sharron, and you already feel guilty for intruding. Faraway's apartment might be fine, right? Or maybe...maybe even the working girl's place, even if it's just for a moment...

The hospital...

Either of the apartments...

The Plaza...

Or is there somewhere else you could go?

What place do you tell Sam?
Bower's clinic.
plaza may be too open or easy for them to trace. don't want to rope others into it.
If Lawrence is going to be there it'd probably be best if we don't go somewhere public, so either of the apartments. Bower's goons probably wouldn't hit the same place twice, especially not if we sneak it, so Mr. Faraway's apartment should be fine.

... maybe ask Sharron if she thinks that'd be okay.
"Can...can we meet up at-, wait hold on a second," You cover the mouth piece and look over towards Sharron. "Do you think Mr. Faraway would mind if we used his apartment as a meeting place...?"

"You need somewhere private for a meet up, don't you? I'm sure Al wouldn't mind, but he still doesn't have a new door up yet, and they'll be messing with that...it won't be very private is what I'm saying. And if you guys are just needing somewhere to meet up and talk..." Sharron is thinking over her idea a bit. "Well, you can head over to Al's place if you need to, but if that proves to be too much of a hassle, I have to go down to the theater anyways. We're having a meeting with some of our donors to discuss the next play. I'll have my hands tied up, but while I'm there you're more then welcome to come by for a bit."

"Oh, thank you! Um, hang on..." You bring the phone back up to talk to Sam, and give him the address to Faraway's apartment. "...do you know where that is?"

"I can find it easy enough, could you give me till at least noon to get there?"

"Yeah, of course. Um...you haven't gotten to talk to Lawrence yet, have you?"

"...I'm afraid not. I'll keep an eye out for him, but he'll come around."

"Alright...are you uh, are you good for the night?" You hope you haven't been sounding selfish. The thought of Sam sleeping outside in the cold hadn't even came to you, but you can't help but feel bad about it now.

"I'm good, don't worry about me. I got a buddy who's helping me out tonight. Just make sure you stay safe, and I'll meet you tomorrow."

You say goodbye to Sam and hang up the phone. Sharron passes over a spare set of pajamas of hers, scoops up the cat, and leads you to the downstairs bathroom.

"Just a shower in this one, sorry. But it should have all the soap and shampoo you need, and if you need anything then my room is just down the hall. You good for now?"

"Yes, thank you so much."

"No problem, sleep well. I hope you don't mind, but this little guy is precious. Can I cuddle with him?," You nod in permission, and Sharron tousles your hair before she leaves. Once again you find yourself wishing for a tub, but the stall is more then good enough right now. As you shower, you find yourself trying to take peeks at your body, but each time you do it makes you feel sick.

You hate yourself, and you hate the things you do.

Donning the clean set of clothes provided for you, the pull-out couch looks like the most comfortable place in the world. The springs creak beneath you when you enter, but the softness and cleanliness of everything else more then makes up for it. You wrap yourself up in the provided blankets, curling up tight.

This spot feels so big right now, and you realize that after sharing a space with someone else for so long, sleeping by yourself really is lonely.

Do Sharron and Faraway both feel this way?

What about Lawrence, he's been sleeping alone too...he better be, anyways.

You realize how controlling that sounded, but the thought of him laying next to someone else makes you feel sick.


When you open your eyes early the next morning, you are looking at the face of a very sleepy Timothy. Still exhausted, you have a quick starring contest with him.

"Are you my new sister?"

"No." You're not answering rudely, but anything longer then a word is too much work for you right now.

"Oh. Okay. Then why are you sleeping on my couch?" Timothy's blunt question isn't trying to be rude either, and is rather just an unfiltered question.

"...it's comfy."

"Okay." Timothy looks like he's about to ask more questions, but a done up and professionally dressed Sharron comes to the front door, purse and bags at hand.

"Come on Tim, let her sleep. We have to get going now," Sharron gives you a quick wave and points at a pile of folded clothes next to the couch. "I found those for you if you needed them. They're just some old ones from college, don't worry about getting them messy or bringing them back. Al's in the kitchen when you're read- shoot, we have to go now."

Sharron takes Timothy by the hand and leads him out the front door. You would love to close your eyes and sleep for longer, but decide that it would be best for you to go ahead and get up now. You change clothes in the bathroom, putting on faded jeans and yet another band shirt. It's hard to remind yourself that the woman who wore these and the one you saw leave are the same person.

In the kitchen, Faraway is placing out some food for the cat before returning to his coffee and paper. A small stack of pancakes and a glass of juice has been set out for you, and you take your seat.

"Did you sleep alright enough?" Faraway asks, and cutting into the pancakes you nod. "I'm glad to hear. Sharron already told me that you need to go over to my place."

"S-Sorry...I should have asked you first..."

"It's fine, shame my place isn't up to standard at the moment though."

And that's your fault.

You focus on eating your pancakes instead, but know that Faraway will ask you about what's been going on.

How much do you want to tell him? You might want to leave out the less then nice details like Warren but...who are you supposed to be completely open to anyways?

What all do you tell Faraway about?
This guy from the place where we'd holed up lured Sam and John out to the football field to get to us, and he hurt both of them to make them talk. They didn't, though.

Sam made sure we were safe, though, and then we... fucked up and got scared for no reason. Just some... guy who'd had too much to drink and grabbed us without ill intent.
"So um, you already know that John got hurt," You decide to initiate the conversation this time. It was going to happen anyways, and you might as well try and take responsibility over this. "What happened was this guy that he knew, from the place we were staying at...he lured John and my other friend Sam out to the football field. He um, he tried to get them to talk about me, but neither of them did. So they both got hurt, especially John...but they protected me. But we couldn't take John with us, so we had to leave him behind..."

"Jesus, I hope John is doing alright," Faraway stews over this. "What about Lawrence?"

"I haven't seen him since you guys went to the hospital. It's just been me and Sam. I should be with him, anyways. I um...I was supposed to wait outside for him, and I was stupid and ran off." Thinking about how dumb that was upsets you, just as it should. "Some drunk guy came up and just, spooked me I guess. I ended up running off and got separated from Sam, and that's how I'm here bothering you again."

When you look up, Faraway is deep in thought. You finish your breakfast in silence, forcing yourself to finish the food.

"This is a rather dire situation...isn't it?" Faraway mutters to himself. "More then I originally thought it to be, anyways. I wonder if..."


"Hm. Let me think some things over, and I will let you know later, alright? When you're ready we can drive over to my place. I'm afraid that I will have to leave you there in order to talk to someone about repairs on my place. I'd let my landlord handle it, but then he would insist on a closer investigation on what happened, and I don't don't believe that would help us out any."


"Try to cheer up. Here you are in good health. That has to count for something, even if it doesn't seem like much. Lets try not to sit here and sulk about too much, we're burning daylight," Faraway finishes his coffee, putting the cup and your dirty plates in the sink. "We'll just leave these here for Sharron to deal with, she'll love it I promise." Faraway winks at you as he says this, putting his coat on.

As you go to the living room to get yours, the cat has come up to rub around your ankles.

"Sharron has taken to a liking to him," Faraway says as he waits by the door. "If you needed, I'm sure she wouldn't mind taking him off of your hands."

You look down to the cat as Faraway says this. There's a big part of you that wants to carry him around, introduce him to Buttercup and make them be friends. He would have a better life if you left him here, wouldn't he?

"Bye bye," You say, giving him a pet. "I hope you have a nice life here."

Before you walk out the door, you look back to see the cat curled up in the spot you had been sleeping. It makes you feel sad, leaving him behind for whatever reason. You really like cats.


Sitting in the front seat, you notice how dirt caked and gross your hoodie looks right now. At least the rest of you is mostly clean. You listen to the radio during the car ride instead, and notice that Faraway lives pretty close to his sister, just a fifteen minute drive away. As you approach the apartments, you decide to ask about what happened when you left.

"Was there really a fire here?"

"Nothing big, I heard it was a small one started in one of the supply closets. The fire alarm was supposedly pulled first. Other then some burn carpet and smoke damage, I think my place was the one that got wrecked the most," Faraway pulls into the parking garage, and you keep an eye out for any tinted windows. It looks like the coast is clear, but you still stick close to Faraway and duck your head as you follow him upstairs.

The broken door remains, unable to close properly. Yellow police tape is the only thing preventing anyone from entering, but from the torn one at the bottom it doesn't look like it did the job well. Faraway makes you keep your distance as he pushes the door open slowly, looking around the empty living room.

"Maybe one of my neighbors was a tad bit too curious, let me take a look first. You can stand in the doorway, but keep an extra ear and eye out for me," Faraway steps through the tape carefully and you follow suit, remaining near the door. Faraway snoops around his kitchen and living room, then goes to check the bathroom and his room. When he opens the guest room, he looks surprised but the shock wears off quickly. He motions for you to come over, and lets you look through the crack of the door.

Your heart leaps up in your chest when you see Lawrence sprawled out on the bed, deep asleep and snoring.

"Guess he made himself comfy," Faraway whispers to you. "I take it you'll be fine with him dear. Let me go downstairs and talk to the front desk, I can let them know it's me here and give them instructions if your friend comes by."

"Alright, his name is Sam. He's about um...fifty I think. Walks on a crutch, only has one leg," You're speaking quickly, trying to not talk too loudly.

"I'll let them know. You should be fine for ten minutes or so, just come running downstairs if you need anything. I'll try to return as quick as I can though."

You nod and watch as Faraway leaves the room, stepping through the yellow tape carefully. Looking back at the bed, your heart is beating almost painfully.

Do you want to go and wake Lawrence? Of course you do, but should you? How should you greet him? Jeez, you really need to calm down, you're just so happy to see him.

How do you want to greet Lawrence?
give him blowie
a* blowie
my bad ^.^
Like... a kiss? A hug? Both? Anything to feel close to him again, to feel reassured that he's really there. Wake him gently and let him see it's us first, though...
Maybe get on top of him~
It takes all the self control you have to not rush over to Lawrence and wake him up. You close the door as silent as you can manage, looking over to the bed. He's still snoring away, and you remove your hoodie for the time being. Its pockets are full and you'd rather not stick him when you go in for a hug. For the first time in what feels like forever, a smile begins to spread on your face. You take care to make your steps silent as you approach the bed, looking over Lawrence as he sleeps.

Spread out on a bed almost too small for him, hands resting against his stomach, his little cowlick sticking out on the side of his head. You really did a terrible job trying to fix it, but to you it's cute. You reach up with a slow hand and poke at the fly away hair, happy just to watch him sleep. This bothers Lawrence enough to make him face away, and you crawl on to the bed and hover over him instead. Among everything that has been happening, this is the most normal interaction you have gotten, and you want to enjoy it for what it is.

"Hey. Wake up," You whisper, shaking his shoulder. There's a sound like he's trying to grumble, and a hand trying to push you off. "Is that anyway to treat a um, a lovely lady like me?"

You were prepared to greet Lawrence with a hug or a kiss or anything, you've missed him so much. The moment his eyes open and take a look at you, his body shoots up and you are pulled in to his chest, his arms squeezing you so tightly it's almost painful. You hug back right away, nestling your face against his warm shirt.

"I've missed you so much," You say, squeezing him with every word.

"Was so...worried about...you," Lawrence's voice is hoarser then usual, exhaustion tugging down with each breath. His grip around you loosens, and he runs a hand through the hair by your face. "Are you...okay?"

"Yeah, I'm okay." You'll have to tell him about everything that's happened later, but for now you don't want to ruin this moment. "What about you? I was so scared about what could have been happening when you were out there alone."

"Long story...am fine," Lawrence says, and you try to study his face to see if there's anything wrong. His cheek is still trying to heal, and there are heavy bags underneath his eyes, but for the most part he doesn't look any worse for wear then before.

You look at how you two are sitting on the bed, you practically in his lap right now. It's nice, but you know that it wouldn't be good to be found like this. You should still have some more time though...

"I'm um...I'm sure there's a better way for you to greet your um, your p-princess," You try to say with confidence, hands close to your chest. It doesn't feel right for you to sound so assertive like that, but it makes Lawrence grin when you do. He reaches up and cups your cheek, stroking your skin with his thumb before pulling you in for a kiss on the lips. He lets it linger, though it's only a light one, and your chest flutters anyways. When Lawrence pulls back, you try to hide the growing grin on your face. You hide your face away in the curve of his neck, enjoying the way he's holding you right now.

"I was so scared with out you," You mumble, feeling a bit how helpless you feel without him. "I hate not knowing where you are, I was worried about you so much."

"I was...worried about...you too. Kept trying...to find...you but, I...was always...too late."

You want to ask him to not leave you alone again, but that's near impossible and you know it.

"I'm just glad you're okay," You wish you didn't have to go back out, out to where you have to always be looking around for danger. Where it's alright for you to be with Lawrence, and not have to worry about yours or his or anyone's safety. You close your eyes for a moment, just thankful that you get this right now. "I love you, Lawrence."

Of course you don't expect him to say it back yet, earning a tight squeeze and a kiss on the forehead in response. One day you'll get him to say it though, you just know it.

"Um, Mr. Faraway is just talking with the front desk right now. Sam is supposed to be coming down here," You briefly fill Lawrence in on what's going on at the moment. You want to enjoy this as long as you can though. It might be a while before the two of you are alone again. You pick up Lawrence's hand in both of yours, playing around with it and running your fingers over the knuckles and between his fingers. You finally slip your much smaller hand into the center of his, allowing your thinner fingers to fill in the gaps between his.

Is there anything you need to do or talk about before Faraway comes back?
we need to suck his balls dry and talk about how hungry we are for blood and cock
>does violence "turn you on"? If so not do I have a story for you!

No. But seriously not that

Just enjoy the time we have together and don't let him go until faraway gets back
Anything we could tell him seems like it would ruin the moment, so just stay in his lap and be content we're finally back together. This is nice, and it'll end too soon.
Poke fun at him as usual.
You just want to enjoy being with Lawrence for a moment, and knowing that once Faraway comes back you won't be able to do any of this, you take advantage of the time you have. Reaching up to poke at his growing stubble, seeing that it has spread.

"I hope when you take me out that you'll trim this up again, just a little bit. I like it when you clean up, it makes you look like a real um...a real prince, " You mumble the last part, feeling embarrassed to say that.

"Need it...to look...cool," Lawrence says, giving you a tired smirk. You trace his jawline with your finger, going up to the corner of his mouth. The tip of your finger goes over the bumpy and healing skin, avoiding his stitches as you do.

"Dummy, always thinking about that." You reach down to his chin, giving it a quick squeeze and feeling the rough hair poke your thumb. "What if it gets all long and gross though? You can't look cool like that, you'll just get stuff stuck in there."

"That could...be cool. Be a...wizard."

"What? No you're too young for that, stop it. I don't want you to be one anyways. So um, if you were to take me out somewhere though, where would it be?" It feels an odd combination of weird and normalcy right now, sitting here talking like this.

"Probably Chuck...E. Cheese."

"I'm not a little kid!" You bat at his shoulders and chest, annoyed by his answer. "You have to take me somewhere nice!"

"Ball pit...it very...nice."

"No! We aren't going there!" You cross your arms in defiant of his bullying, turning away from him. Lawrence wraps his arms around you waist, pulling you in closer again so he can kiss all over your cheek. They're light and quick kisses, tickling your skin. You're trying your hardest not to giggle at them, trying to push away from his much stronger grip. "Stop it! You're so mean to me!"

"Will take...you somewhere...nice. Pretty place. Make you...feel like...a real...princess," Lawrence talks between his kisses, and you hate to admit just how nice they make you feel right now. You look at him, trying to pout, but he has that smirk on his face again.

"You and that stupid smile," You say, and decide that you'll make it disappear. This time you kiss him first, and while you aren't a good lead there's something special about you starting it. Or maybe you just really like kissing Lawrence.

You pull away and just rest your forehead against his, and while you try looking him in the eyes you decide to close yours instead.

"I love you," You repeat, your hands moving from your lap up to his face. It's nice having someone to say that to, but what you really want is to hear it back. Of course you don't want it forced out, but you're trying to figure out how you could make it happen. Maybe you just need to try harder...

It looks like Lawrence is about to say something, but a gentle knock at the door sends you racing off the bed.

"It's just me," Faraway calls out from behind the door, and you rush over to let him in. "Everything alright in here?"

"Yeah! Just...just waking him u-up," You really hope the burning red on your face isn't obvious "D-Did you get any trouble downstairs?"

"No it's fine, can we sit in the living room instead?"

You nod, Lawrence following up behind. You resist the urge to hold his hand right now, but you do take a spot next to him on the couch. Faraway takes the chair, and you can tell from his face that something is bothering him.

"So I went down to talk to the front desk, just told them that I would be here and hopefully have some repairs done, also told them about your friend coming by, easy enough. Something hasn't been sitting right with me though," Faraway crosses his arms, his mouth twisted in annoyance. "He kept asking me if I had seen you, if I would be seeing you again soon, the likes. Course I didn't give him any information, but I do worry about him poking his nose around."

Lawrence writes out a note, and looking over you can see what it says before it's passed over to Faraway.

Do you think he's being paid to give up information?

"That may be the case, I'm afraid. Luckily the front desk can't see people who come in from the garage, but there's nothing to keep him from coming up here."

"Will I have to leave?" You ask, leaning in close to Lawrence for a sense of safety.

"It may be best, but your friend still isn't here yet...I supposed if he was to come either I or Lawrence could bring him over. I'm assuming you would go over to Sharron's place, yes?"

"I mean, if no one would see me going over to the theater, isn't it usually busy over there?"

"Only when it's open, and that's usually on evenings and the weekends. Besides, they don't have a show running right now, the ones there should be Sharron and the donors, maybe a few staff members."

"Okay...okay I can do that," You're pretty limited on places you can go, and it would be best for you to take what is available.

"Course we could always wait for your friend Sam to arrive first, and then everyone could go over together. I'll leave that choice up to you, but I'm afraid that I can't wait over at the theater too long. I'll be able to drop you off safely, but you'll have to wait there alone. If you want, I could lend Bowie to Lawrence again and let him handle it."

So you can stay here and wait for Sam, and while that means going to the theater in a larger group it also means waiting here, which could be a gamble.

You could go ahead and wait at the theater, but if you go with Faraway that means you'll be alone for a while. You could always take Lawrence, but you have to be careful with being seen with him...

What do you choose?
It should be fine to wait here though, shouldn't it? We'll just have to keep our ears open and hide if anyone's coming.
Stay here, possible more Lawrence fights.
Also tell Lawrence the grow beard out. Would work with scar on eyebrow and face. Make him look rugged and less shady.
"Is it okay if I stay here? I'd rather not get separated again."

"If that makes you feel comfortable, the I don't mind. I may have to be coming and going though, a repair man is supposed to come and look at the ceiling in a little bit. I may have to shuffle you two away in the bedroom in that case," Faraway directs his attention towards Lawrence now. "And how are you holding up?"

Tired as hell, but I could be worse

"I imagine so, what happened after you left from here?"

You want to know too, and hope that Lawrence doesn't mind you reading while he writes.

Had to go and find John, that took some time. What really took forever was trying to get him to go to the hospital. I couldn't take him on the bike, so I had to pick him up and carry him somewhere the ambulance could come by and grab him.

"How is he?" You're glad Faraway asked, cause you are dying to know too.

I stayed with him till they called his condition stable. It was close, but he's fine kinda. They told me he slipped into a coma, but it shouldn't last for more then a few days while his body recovers

"Oh my god..." You can't help but grow fearful when you see the word coma.

"Don't worry about it, it doesn't sound too serious dear," Faraway says as he reads over the note himself. "Still, I hope John makes a clean recovery. Where was he shot?"

"On his hip kinda, right around here." You point on your own body where the spot was. Faraway grimaces at this.

"He's going to have trouble walking for a while if that's the case, did they say how long he would need to be in the hospital?"

Couple of days. I need to go and visit him again later, I think they will transport him to the VFW clinic though

"Right, he's a veteran. I supposed it could have been worse, but..." Faraway trails off, thinking about the situation. The phone rings and he excuses himself to go answer it. It sounds like he's talking to one of the repair men, taking the phone with him to the kitchen.

"Do you think John will be okay? How was he when you came?" You ask, trying to talk quietly as to not disturb Faraway's conversation.

He was pretty out of it when I came in. Kept telling me that he didn't need to go to the hospital. I had to drag and then carry him out of there, he was pretty weak. There was a point where he stopped responding to me, but before the ambulance had came he was talking about something. I'm not really sure what, but he was conscious at least

"That's so scary...I'm sorry you had to find him like that."

John has survived war, he can pull through this. If anything, I've paid him back from the last few Christmas eve's

Lawrence is trying not to let you worry, but it doesn't help too much. You try to change the subject.

"Um, I've been thinking it over. Maybe you should grow your beard out. It'd um, it'd look cool with your s-scars and stuff..."

Lawrence gives you a quick smile in recognition, but the longer the two of you sit there the more you realize he wants to ask you something difficult.

You have a creeping feeling about what it might be.

Still, as Lawrence begins to write you hope it's any other question right now.

When I came up, Warren was passed out on the ground. What happened to him?
He hurt Sam and John. Lied to them to get them out to the football field and tried to make them talk. Tried to make them tell him who we were so he could take us to Bower.

We were just going to stop him. Make him drop his gun. We weren't trying to kill him, honest! Lawrence has to believe us!
I was practicing baseball.
Just say he was going to turn you in to bower, hurt Sam and reason why John said "it ain't me".

I'm not the only one who enjoyed reading that scene?
"He lured Sam and John to the field, and then he hurt them bad trying to figure out where I was. Warren wanted to turn me over to Bower, and he was going to hurt them even more...he already shot John. And then he wanted to take me away...he had a gun, and I needed to stop him," You try to think about the images in your head, trying not to picture Warren's face. "I just wanted to do that though, I only needed to make sure he dropped the gun. I knew it was going to hurt him but I didn't think he was going to turn, I didn't know it could hurt him that bad...I didn't mean to do it, I promise!"

Your hands come up to cover your face, trying to keep yourself together.

"I did that him. I k-killed Warren...!"

You hope that Faraway can't hear you right now, but saying it in front of Lawrence hurts. Your stomach is churning, you feel sick again. There's a hand on your shoulder, but you want to pull away and hide.

"He didn't...hurt you, did...he?"

"No, he hurt Sam and J-John so badly but...but he didn't hurt me."

"I'm glad...for that," Lawrence hugs you as he says this. "I really...am."

"I killed him though, killed him w-when I didn't need to...it m-must have hurt so badly, and he was a-alive going through all of it and it's all my faul-"

"You need...to stay...safe."

"I don't like hurting people though, I hate it. It makes me f-feel sick," When you say this, Lawrence pulls you closer in. "I k-know they're trying to hurt me, but it doesn't make it feel any better. I'm so scared of s-seeing his face when I go to sleep...I hate it so much, I don't want to be a murderer."

"You aren't."

"I don't want to h-hurt people either, I hate it so much."

"I'll do...that for...you."

"No wait, I d-don't want you to hurt people either though," You try to push away so you can look at him, but Lawrence is holding you much too tight right now.

"You don't...have to...hurt anyone. Not when...I'm here...to protect...you."

"Thirty-minutes? Yes that's fine, thank you." Faraway is wrapping up the conversation on the phone, and Lawrence pulls away. He gives you a small smile, the upturned corner of his healing cheek giving him a lopsided grin.

You don't feel good about what he said, even though he promised to protect you.

You don't want Lawrence to hurt people either.

"Alright, it looks like someone will come down to look at the ceiling in about half an hour. I can leave him to do his work if I need to, not that there is...shoot! Dammit ...please excuse me once again," Faraway looks to be in a slight panic and disappears to his bedroom. You can't help but look out towards the front door, just waiting to see someone else there.

"Need to...talk to...you about...something serious," Lawrence draws your attention back over to him, and he's already writing in his notebook. When he hands you the note, he looks at you with dismal eyes.

If you had the chance to live in a house, somewhere safe where you didn't have to run and always be on the look out constantly, would you take it?

"Yes...of course I would. I hate living like this, the only good thing about it is being with you, and I can't even do that as much any more," When you mention him, Lawrence's face matches his sorrowful look as he writes the next note.

Would you go and live somewhere safe, where you would get taken care of properly and not have to worry about everything

Even if I wasn't there with you?
... n-no.
Couldent shouldent wouldent

We neeeeed him~
At least visit.
give him the V
We need him
We need his love
"What? You mean like, where I couldn't see you?" You reread what he wrote several times over, making sure that you are comprehending this properly. "Or I'd live without or just..."

You're thinking this over, and no matter how you twist it, none of it sounds alright with you. Even if he got to visit you once in a while...no, you don't like it. You've never considered the option of living away from Lawrence, and now you can see why. It's a terrible thought, and it's a terrible idea of him to bring up.

"...no. I can't do that, I c-couldn't. I need you, I need you with m-me," You shove the notebook back at him, shaking your head. "It w-was hard enough yesterday, not knowing where you were. And I already can't see you a-as much as I want to, or h-hold your hand whenever I like...I've already h-had to distance myself, don't make me give up any more."


"No!" You fling yourself in his arms, hiding your face away from him while also trying to keep your voice stern. "I don't c-care how nice or how safe i-it is, I can't leave you b-behind. I need you too much, I...I l-love you so much Lawrence..." Your voice is crumbling at this last part. How could he suggest something like that? It feels like there's a lot you'd be willing to sacrifice for safety, but Lawrence isn't one of them. There's no one else in your life that makes you feel happy like he does, and you aren't about to just let that go. There's nothing he or anyone else could say to change your mind on it either.

"D-Do you not want to s-see me anymore?"

Lawrence has his hands on your shoulder, but doesn't pull you away.

"I want...you to...be safe. To live...the life...you should. Try and...grow up...normal. Be happy."

"I'm h-happy with you though! I...I don't care about the rest of that, I...I just need you," You bite your lip so painfully hard. "D-Don't leave me..."

You're hugged gently, but Lawrence doesn't feel good about this either, you can tell.

You are just being selfish again, aren't you?

It feels like you can't be any other way though.

As you try to gather yourself, Faraway's bedroom door opens and closes, and the man walks out to the living room.

"Oh dear, is she alright?"

"I am, j-just tired and...grumpy," That's the excuse parents always use for kids, right? Not that you want to call yourself one any more but...dammit, it's hard sometimes. You pull away from Lawrence, avoiding all eye contact with him.

"I would be too, if I was facing half the problems you've been," Faraway goes to the kitchen, the sound of a coffee maker whirring soon after. You rub away at your misty eyes, feeling almost bitter towards Lawrence right now. Not him, but the question.

Why would he ask something like that?

"Hello? This the right place?" Sam's voice calls out from the hallway, and Faraway opens the useless door for him. Sam tries to navigate through the tape, but gives up soon after and rips his way through half of them.

"You must be Sam, I assume? My name is Albert Faraway," He greets himself, extending a hand and coffee out to him.

"Nice to meet you Al, sorry for the intrusion."

"At least you had the courtesy to call out before entering in first."


Sam is using one of the kitchen chairs, crutch set on the ground and a cup of coffee passed out to everyone. You were handed one too, and though it's much too bitter for your liking, holding the warm mug in your hands is nice.

"Glad to see you're doing alright, was worried about you," Sam says to Lawrence, and it's obvious he wants to know about John. Lawrence writes out what he's already told you, Sam looking over it carefully.

"I see...so long as he's stable. I think the biggest concern was getting him somewhere before he bled out. Course we just need to see what his recovery will be needing," Sam sighs, handing back the notebook. You're worried by the way Sam talks about that part. Shouldn't recovery be a good thing? It's not like John wouldn't be able to walk anymore, right? The bullet was just in his hip, he can walk that off can't he?

"If there's a chance he's awake though, I need to know. They might be able to tell me how long it'll take for him to be released too, we shouldn't let him stay longer then he needs and I'd rather not have him leave that place alone," Sam sips from his mug. "After I've got him figured out, then we can work on moving to the new place."

"Were you able to find one?" Faraway asks for you.

"Temporary, but it's better then nothing. Talked to some of my old VFW buddies, made some connections."

"Can't you just call the hospital and get that information?" You ask.

"They aren't allowed to discuss details like that over the phone with someone who isn't directly related. They might not want to give it to me at the clinic either, but I know some folks there. I can get the info I need one way or another, but I'd like to get that out of the way," Sam sounds confident with that last part.

"I'd offer you my place till you were ready, but even if the door was fixed then I'm afraid this might not be the safest place anymore," Faraway looks grim with this. "I can't say for sure, but it might be best to not take chances."

"Moving her around too much might be it's own set of problems. Then again, not staying in one spot could help make it harder for them to pinpoint where she is too," Sam turns to you now. "Course, I'm not about to force you to do anything you don't want. I'd rather not make the call and turn out I was wrong about it all. I need to check on John, and then we can all go meet up in that place you mentioned."

You could go with Sam to check on John at the clinic...that might be okay, right? You'd be out in public though.

Then there's going ahead and waiting at the theater. That might not be so bad, but Lawrence would have to take you over there.

And of course you could always stay here, but the guy Faraway mentioned downstairs makes you feel worried...

What are you supposed to choose?
if we got to see him at least occasionally then it'd be okay
>tfw u forget to update the thread
All is forgiven but I am watching you
>And of course you could always stay here, but the guy Faraway mentioned downstairs makes you feel worried...
Nah, what could go wrong...
> if we got to see him at least occasionally then it'd be okay
He'll soon find himself thinking about nothing else than us.
The theater should be fine, really. It's an upscale neighborhood, so people would react to gunfire, and the police would be around quickly.
i think we should go to the theatre, the clinic could be crowded and the less people that see us, the better
Headsup, I've been experiencing power loss with my PC a lot recently. I don't know what the problem is, but today my computer powers down like every ten minutes.
"I'll wait at Sharron's place, I think that might be the safest." You give your answer, feeling like everyone is starring at you, waiting and judging your answer.

"The theater it is then, did she tell you how to come inside?" Faraway asks, and you shake your head. "The front doors will probably be locked. When it's something like this, she tends to use the doors on the west side. I've it's locked then you can try knocking. There's been plenty of times where Sharron will forget to leave it open for others, me included. Keep at it long enough and someone is bound to come let you in though."

"That's the big theater down town, right? Been a while since I've been in that area, but it's hard to miss. If that's where you'll be then I'll meet you there when I'm all done with John," Sam adds in. "If there's a phone there that we could borrow, then all the better. It'll give me a chance to double check things with Eric."

Shoot, you still have Eric's credit card. Hopefully he hasn't been needing to use it, though you're glad that you haven't abused it yet.

"If Sharron isn't there, then feel free to come back here. Just keep an eye out everywhere you go, though I don't really need to warn you about that do I? There's some time before the repair man comes down, I can take you to the nearest station if you like, Sam."

"That'd be nice, thanks Al."

"And if Lawrence is using Bowie again, that will get you two over there easily enough," Faraway stands, taking his empty cup to the sink. "In that case, sooner rather then later would be for the best. Not to rush you or anything."

"He's right. I won't take long, give me about an hour or so to check in on John," Sam rises, grabbing his crutch. "Maybe he'll be the worst thing we have to worry about after this."

Lawrence pulls out the key from his pocket, trying to ask if you're ready to go.

"Yeah, just let me get my hoodie," You still feel sore about Lawrence's question. Why would he even think about something like that? Is he trying to suggest something? Maybe you should ask him about it later...


Hoodie on and your belongings secured in your pocket, you find yourself sitting behind Lawrence on the motorcycle again. The helmet is passed over and you secure it on while he starts up the engine. It's still a bit scary getting started, but getting to hold on to him like this when he goes into the streets makes you feel better about it. You press your check against his back, trying not to think too much about what he was asking you earlier.

The ride is rather short, many stops and slow downs on the way. Probably not fun at all for the person driving, but you're more then glad to see the building. It is a bit strange to see it so empty, and while there are people on the sidewalk and driving on the street there's not nearly as many people as the night of the musical. None of them are going inside, and Lawrence pulls around back, a small area set aside for staff parking.

Your legs are shaky when you step off, and you remove the helmet hoping to smooth down your hair before going inside. Hopefully you don't look like you're homeless...

Holding the helmet underneath your arm, you and Lawrence try to find the door, walking along the side. The entrance Faraway was talking about comes into view, just a small metal door tucked away. You shouldn't be this way, but you still don't feel too good right now. Standing beside Lawrence, you let him do the knocking. The sound travels easily, and the few cars already parked in the back gives you hope that someone will be inside. Lawrence must notice that you're still upset, as he takes your hand for a moment and gives it a squeeze.

He has to let go all too soon when the door swings open, a teenage boy standing in the way.

"Uh, can I help you?" His eyes go from you then over to Lawrence, widening when he sees the cut up cheek.

"The owner said we can come by...um, Sharron? Er, I guess Ms. Faraway..."

"Oh wait, she mentioned something about a girl dropping by. Come in," The boy ushers both of you in, the door falling shut with a loud thunk. "I think she said that you needed somewhere that a couple of you guys could talk or something? I hope you don't mind one of the dressing rooms, they're already unlocked cause we're cleaning them and I don't really want to run off and find the keys for anywhere else."

"It's fine. There should be another person coming by too, his name is Sam. Older, and he'll be walking with a crutch and stuff."

"Okay, I'll keep an eye out," As the boy leads you near the back of the theater you begin to wonder what he's doing here. Is he working?

The wooden door that he opens leads you into a room filled to the brim with clothes, costumes, strewn about make-up, cluttered tables...a colorful and busy mess.

"Sorry about this, we haven't came in here to clean yet. The actors don't really like to clean up after themselves..." The boy grumbles. "I gotta get back to my duties. Uh, I don't know what all you might need, but me and Ashley, er...the other intern should be walking around. If you need us or Ms. Faraway I guess you can always try to find us."

Oh, he's an intern.

"Thank you," You say, and watch as the boy slips away into the hallway. Looking around, you're almost kind of scared to touch things. Lawrence has already taken a seat, and you notice that he's doing his best to avoid looking into the big mirror.

Walking around the room, you see rows of costumes, some set pieces, wigs...it's all really interesting.

But Lawrence's question from earlier is still burning.

Should you try to press him about it? You want to know why he would ask something like that, but you're kind of scared to. What if you don't like the answer? Or what if he thinks you're accusing him of something...

Yet another chance to be alone, and you could ruin it by bringing it up.

Still...it's rather hard to forget it...

Should you press Lawrence about it now, or leave it alone for the time being?
Choosing between ruining the moment now, or letting it eat away at us for... God knows how long.

Ask him.
thoroughly dust the inside of your computer to prevent any short circuits

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