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/qst/ - Quests

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ou may be a smart girl, but you aren't a lucky one."

A young girl with a terrible affliction and a miserable fate, Delilah is flung into an uncaring world. A monster of a man gives an unrelentless chase and burdens too heavy for her shoulders make a difficult life even harder to bear. Will you be able to find happiness, or be swallowed up by the misery and hate twisting up inside?

=Links and Information=


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.

Previous Thread:
"John, can I talk to you about something kind of serious...?" you ask, and upon hearing this John shifts to sit upright, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

"What is it?" he mumbles, doing his best to cover the yawn wanting to escape. You look out the window first, trying to ignore the rush of sickness you feel before peeking back at him. A new heat rises in your chest, a burning shame that scares you to no end.

"...how do I deal with this...this terrible and awful guilt I feel?" you speak freely, knowing that there is no one sitting close enough to hear you on this moving bus, your confessions only heard by John. "It's painful sometimes, like this...this tangled up and wiggling bunch of knots in my stomach whenever I think about it....think about them..."

"What do you mean by 'them'?" John asks, listening to each word carefully. Matching the sickening motions in your stomach, you can only look down at your fingers tangling up around each other in an attempt to distract you from it all. It feels as if breathing is too daunting of a task, your chest heavy with each inhale. Talking about it doesn't get any easier, and only lets your horrendous crimes be known further.

"Whenever I think about k-...ki-....hurting Warren like that, it makes me sick. And then I think about...about the guy I...I also hurt in the alley...and a woman in her store...I hurt them all. And I don't think I'm supposed to feel bad about all of it, they were all t-trying to hurt me first but I can't help it. I feel dirty, like...like I can't wash their blood off my hands. And it's not like I hurt them cause I was just trying to defend myself. I-...It's like I lost control with it. Like anything good inside me was gone, and I was just left with these feelings of...of wanting to hurt them, instead of just trying to protect myself. Like instead of me, it was all these awful feelings coming out and making me do it...do more then I needed. I couldn't stop, and when I finally did it was too late for me to take any of it back." You fall silent after this, your mouth feeling dry and a burning sensation at your neck. Realizing your nails have once again left their nervous marks against your bare skin, you pull your hand away and hold them both against your stomach. A new wave of nausea hits you, this time as a result of remembering everything that has happened. John remains just as silent, taking time to think over what you've said. It's obviously a lot to take in, even now it's hard for you to swallow.

"And all this is just, festerin' up inside you, ain't it?" John asks, keeping his eyes forward. You only manage to nod, afraid and unsure if you can say anything else right now. "And it just keeps growin'."

"It doesn't feel like I'll be able to hold it all in. Like, one day it's just going to grow and grow and just...all come out. And then maybe I'll just...I'll end up hurting someone I don't mean to, someone who doesn't deserve it or...or someone I..."

"Someone you care about," John finishes your thoughts and once again you find yourself only nodding in agreement, "Ain't somethin' you should have to feel. I'm sure you've already been told it's not your fault."

"Yeah, but that doesn't make me feel any better."

"Not hard to imagine. It'd be a little scarier if you could just shrug it all off as nothin'. I only know what happened with Warren, so I can't speak for certain on those other people you mentioned. And I know I'm just sayin' what's been repeated, but you first have to remember that it ain't your fault. You didn't go out and jump nobody, and it was either you or them. And if they're the type to try and hurt a little girl like you, then I say it's better that they're the ones who got hurt. Not that it'll get rid of them knots, but that's what you got to realize first. Over when I was deployed, you found that out quickly. When you're getting shot at, or have to decide if you should shoot or not. Course you think about everything at that moment that you shouldn't. Could be shooting a guy with a wife and kids, someone just tryin' to support his family who doesn't want anything to do with this stupid war. But then you got bullets comin' at you, and there's a choice to be made. You or them. Ain't no shame in choosing 'you', basic instinct. And in your situation, there ain't any doubt about it. They were the ones completly in the wrong, and probably deserved what was comin' to them. But you also got to realize something too. You can't just forget all this happened. Nothin' good comes from tryin' to push away memories you don't like, trust me on that. Accept that they happened, cause nothin' else will change that."

"I wish it was easier to forget..." you mumble, John sighing at this. He's been down this bumpy road before, and it's painfully obvious how it's not an easy one.

"Me too. But that just not how people work. You keep tryin' to push it away and you're not gonna get any better. But once you accept that all of it happened then you can try to do one of the hardest parts."

"And what's that?"

"Forgive yourself. You aren't in the wrong, but you feel like it anyways. If you forgive yourself for it, then it can help you to move on."

"I don't know if I can do that..."

"It's hard. I'm still struggling with that myself," John scratches at his chin, thinking back to everything he regrets just like you do, "But I just can't stress it enough. You didn't hurt nobody who didn't deserve it, understand?"

You nod, but there's something tugging at your heart.

You have hurt someone who didn't deserve, probably several. But the one that hurts you the most is Michele. With a foolish mistake, you took away someone's daughter and sister, moments before she could have been saved from her dreary life. You couldn't even properly confess this to Lawrence...he knows you were there and he knows it was by your knife, but he still doesn't know that you're the one responsible for her death.

Do you want to try and confess this to John right now, or should you only try to talk about it with Lawrence? Or maybe this is a secret you should take with you to the grave...
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and a doodle while I try to get the feel for this new drawing tablet
It might feel good to come clean to Lawrence, but... not today.

Ask John about the guilt of hurting someone innocent, if it's possible to tell someone you care about that you hurt someone they... cared about.

... even if it was a big, shitty accident.
wow this quest is still going holy shit
did Delilah have sex with Lawrence yet? I remember she tongue fucked him multiple times a couple months ago, so surely the relationship has progressed to penis/pussy fucking
do we live on a farm yet, far away from government kill squads and vampire hunters? any time skips?
suck and fuck Lawrence, then tell him about it while cuddling
"But what if you end up hurting someone you didn't mean to.." your voice is low in attempt to keep it at least somewhat steady, "Someone who might have been trying to help you? What if you hurt them really bad, even though it was all just a terrible accident...I don't think I could ever, ever feel better from that."

"It happens. It's shitty, but that sort of thing happens in life too, and you just have to learn to accept it for what it is. You didn't mean to hurt no one, just been thrown into this whole mess. It'll eat you up, and maybe you'll never get over it but...shit. It's a tough thing missy. You just have to find a way to forgive yourself about it eventually, else you'll never find peace."

"I don't think I could ever forgive myself for it...and I don't think it's my place to forgive me for this. I ended up hurting someone close to someone I um...I care about. I don't know how they'll take it, I'm afraid they'll hate me forever or something..." you don't want to confess that this is all about Lawrence and his sister, unsure if that is okay information to share. He might be good with the group, but you doubt he shares much personal information with them.

"You can try telling them and asking for it, but sometimes you can't count on that always working. But just gettin' it out and in the open may help, even if they are upset with you. Might make it easier to forgive yourself later, knowin' you made an effort. It's tough though, I can only offer you advice. You gotta do your best to get through it though the way you can, whatever it may be so you don't chew yourself up about it constantly." This time you just stay silent, starring at your boots against the dirty floor of the bus.

"...I um," you sniff, trying to keep yourself from crying, "I'm trying to be a good person."

"I think you're a sweet girl." Burying your face in your hands, the warm tears fall between your fingers as your try to contain your sobs.

"W-Why is e-everything so t-terrible...?" you try to keep your voice down, and John puts a reassuring hand on your back. "I t-try so h-hard..."

"I know you do missy. You're doin' the best you can, and that's what matters." John offers what support and comfort he can right now as you let out just a small amount of the guilt you feel in tears. It's nothing compared to everything you feel, but letting even a small bit of it out helps you feel a little bit better.

"Thanks.." you say, trying to clear your face with the sleeve of your coat. "S-Sorry about all that..."

"Can't expect you to keep it all to yourself. Relax now, let's try to focus on meetin' up with everyone." You nod, not saying anything as you attempt to think about anything else but what you've told John. That and the pain in your head, but one is slightly easier to ignore than the other. When John announces that it's time to get off, you're almost glad. The bus is too stuffy and shaky and noisy for you right now, even if it really isn't all that. It might be freezing city air, but it's a little easier for you to breathe when you step off. You help John out, the buss traveling away soon enough. Already you notice the sidewalks in dire need of care, uneven and cracked with frozen patches of ice between them. The stop is in front of a post office, and it's the only somewhat nice thing around. People are walking about, bundled up and not looking too 'dangerous'. You'll still keep on your guard though, knowing that you guys are only on the outer edge of where you need to head in.

"You sure you're alright?" John asks, and you just now notice your swaying.

"Y-Yeah, just a little shaky I think. It's fine, I'll eat some food..." you start to reach into your bag, looking for one of the snacks.

"Are you sure that will help you though? I don't think food like this is a good substitute for uh, what you're actually wanting."

"It'll be okay, I don't want to drag us down." you attempt to look upbeat, but you sure as hell don't feel that way.

"I know you told me about the thing with Sam, but this isn't going to be an easy night for us," John walks you over to the awning of a building either closed down forever or not taken care of properly, keeping you off the street for a moment, "And now normally I wouldn't suggest somethin' like this, but I also don't usually go here with a little girl either. If it just takes a little bit to get you feelin' right, then...well, I'd be willin' to offer you some of what I got. Should be running clean enough too...you don't have to take a lot. Just, well...just a little hit to get you through the night. What do you think?
No, artificially removing our guilt will not help us in the long run
kill john and drain him of all his blood and cum
It'd just be enough to alleviate the... withdrawal, right? If we keep going like this we'll risk snapping like back at the school...

It's more to make us less headachy and nauseous. To alter our emotional state, we'd need to get our fill.
No. We will stay true to Sam and take on the withdrawl as best as we can.
Sam can't help if we go feral
Rolled 1 (1d2)

1- Accept John's offer
2- Deny John's offer

You guys always vote when I leave to go get fucked up.
You don't feel good about breaking the promise to Sam, but if getting a little bit of blood right now means you'll be more useful later on then it is something you are willing to do. If it's just a tiny amount then it shouldn't matter, and it'll rid you of this godforsaken headache.

"You won't tell Sam, will you?"

"Cross my heart. This will stay between the two of us." John speaks sincerely, and you have no doubt on this. You look about, as if ready for Sam to come up and scold you for this. You're already sick and in enough pain as it is, and there's a long night ahead of you.

"Just a little bit, you can't let me have too much. A-Alright?"

"I'll keep an eye on ya. Let's find somethin' a bit more ah, private maybe. Wouldn't be too good if we did this out on the sidewalk, would it?"

John leads the way and you do your best to not cling to the back of his jacket. You're both excited to be rid of your pain and nervous about doing it. Not that it's ever a fun experience, but right now you'll be breaking the promise to Sam, even if it's only a little bit. For now you keep quiet on all this; John made an offer, and you're just going to accept it without making him feel bad for it. That's just how this has to be, you keep reminding yourself. John's choice of privacy is a phone booth, cracked windows barely offering any coverage from the outside world. Waiting for the person inside to finish their call, you try to repeating to yourself; this has to be a small amount, the tiniest that you can get. Just enough to make your head stop hurting, to make the ground stop spinning. The man inside finishes his conversation, excusing himself as he leaves to give you two access. Of course he has no idea what's about to happen, how John is about to let you suck his blood.

"An alley wouldn't be better, would it?" you ask, steeping inside hesitantly. It's crowded with the two of you, and you can't help but eye the people walking by across the street. Not many are out at this time, but you can't help but feel somewhat exposed.

"Better here then in some alley..." John says, pulling out the knife and lighter. As he heats up the metal, you try to figure out why this would be.

"What's wrong with the alley?"

"If someone took a look down, they might think that I was uh...that I wasn't up to no good..." John dodges around a direct answer, but you can kind of understand what he's hinting at. It's not really normal for an adult and child to travel around like this anyways, but at least on the bus you can claim him as your dad. If someone thought something was fishy in the alley...it feels like John would be the one in trouble in that situation. As you wait, John allows the knife to cool before drawing back his sleeve. "This here fine?"

"Um, sure. Yeah."

"Alright. Just a little cut then..." you look away as John draws the knife against the back of his arm, looking back once the deed is done. A thin line of blood, only about an inch or two long begins to well up and after making sure there are no prying eyes, it's offered to you. For a moment you hesitate, but the earthy smell takes you over soon enough.

The feeling you get in your head is almost painful, but this quickly turns to a wonderful numb as John's blood flows in your mouth. You suck, encouraging it flow freely all while trying to remind yourself that it needs to be a little bit, just enough to make your pain go away. This reminder goes unheeded, and your vision blurs as the blood is the only thing you focus on.

"Fifty...fifty-two....fifty-three..." You can barely hear John's voice, distracting you just enough to remind you what is happening at this moment. Instead of forcing the blood out you allow it to flow out on its own, though you don't try to pull away either. "Fifty-eight...fifty-nine....and sixty..." On the last count you feel the back of your jacket pulled, and the feeling of warm skin is removed from your mouth. You're panting, wanting to dive back in to it all. John is persistent in holding you back, and it takes only a minute for you to regain self-control.

"I...I didn't do too much...did I...?" you ask, your mind is a hazy cloud. The buzz is welcomed over the pain, but the feel of nausea still remains for whatever reason.

"Kept an eye on you. How you feelin' though?" John asks, releasing you so that he can attend to his arm. You try to watch as he stops the bleeding, but turn away in fear of it being too tempting for you. If he hadn't paid attention then you feel like you might have lost control, but you're not sure. Maybe it would have been like the other times, where you ended up figuring out what you needed to do after getting the sweet taste. Well, John isn't sweet. An earthy smell and taste, it leaves only the slightest trace of the wooden flavor from last time. Hopefully this means you don't have to worry about handling more then you planned on, though you trust John's statement on being clean.

"Pretty um...pretty nice. Like...like it could be better but like...it's also pretty good. That makes sense, right?" you ask trying to leave the phone booth, nearly loosing your footing. Before the world was spinning, but now you have to get used to floating.

"Good enough. I didn't make a mistake doin' that, did I?" John follows behind, making sure you don't trip up.

"I dunno. You're the adult. I'm like, totally trusting you on this." You grip the duffel bag closer, as if it is the thing keeping you upright at this moment. Or grounding you, the weight of it keeping you from floating away. None of that makes sense when you think about it again, you're not that far gone yet. Still, it's nice that everything feels so light right now, like you could hop along at this point.

"Right...right. Wish there was a better adult here for that....now I'm probably gonna make another mistake. We gotta head in to the East Burbs-"

"The what?"

"Er, that's one of the names for this side of town. Course depending who you ask they might try to call it somethin' stupid like China Town or Little Italy...East side sounds a little better to me, and it's...eh. Callin' it a suburb is kinda like callin' them apartments the Hotel. No one is fooled by the name, but they can't help but be cheeky bout it. Ah, let's just head out. Not sure you'll remember all of this later anyways..." as John attempts to walk, or rather limp, in the right direction you two are passed by a person and you are suddenly filled with paranoia. Bad part of town, and you need to stay close. You resist holding on to the back of his coat or the sleeves, but opt for walking nearly into him with each step. You refuse to get lost in this area, not the way you are. All the streets are new and confusing, you've only been by these parts briefly.

You expect John to stop and rest at some point, to catch his breath and allow his pain to subside. It's not like your bag is any lighter, but it sure feels like it. Still you worry about him pushing himself, even in you're clouded state. The deeper in you guys travel the thicker the crowd becomes, and you do your best to not bump into others passing by. There are kids your age and younger walking out, but they're all walking home from school and together. They know this area, grew up in these tall old buildings ready to collapse on themselves, walked past the same faded signs on stores offering the cheapest quality of items and necessities...they don't have to worry about being lost. Someone tries to snatch them, then there is someone to call it in, to worry about them. It's not quite the same for you, even if someone merely looking over you can't tell this. Better to be safe, and you following everyone of John's steps.

The residential and at least reputable businesses turn to ones adorn with gaudy and bright decorations, signs attempting to cover their sketchy nature. Maybe you hadn't noticed the gradual change, or perhaps it was quicker then you expected, but this change makes you worry now. Tattoo parlors, sketching looking barbers, bars and and clubs...that's what some of the signs read anyways. The lights hurt your eyes, the neon too much for you to take in at once. John constantly looks back, making sure you are sticking close by. At a crosswalk he pulls you back, waiting for a group of men to pass before allowing the two of you to go. He knows this area, and when you see his left hand resting in his pocket you remember why he wanted a weapon. Things might be fine now, but after passing by a police cruiser covered in spray pain and missing it's tires you know that the night may be more malicious.

Here you notice an influx of people attempting to sleep either on the streets or on benches, and as the sun lowers in the sky your eye is drawn to a fire started in a barrel deep in an alley to thin to hold all the people rather around it for warmth. They probably aren't, but feels like they are watching every move you make. You can't be more thankful when they are out of sight, noticing as you pass by a bar with the word Angel in the title. Feels out of place here, but looking at the gaudy white sign you realize that it fits right in.

"Jesus, I hate being here..." John mumbles at some point, talking aloud rather than to you. Still, you agree with that statement full heatedly. This place is awful, you don't feel safe and you sure as hell can't wait to leave it. When John tries to lead you down an alley, you consider objecting to this. Rather then the ones you seen before, occupied by people and ending in a wall, you can see this passage is long and snakes between the tall and crowded building that surround it. This time you don't stop from grasping John's jacket, constantly looking behind to make sure no one is following. Your head may have that nice buzz, but it also makes you feel overly aware about everything. It should die down soon enough, and you'll have some time of nice clarity before having to worry about pain once again.

The space behind the buildings is much larger than you had expected, and if there weren't more buildings surrounding the area you would have thought this was an open space. John leads on confidentially, ignoring anyone longing about on back steps. Some just out there for a smoke, others you worry about being conscious as they lean against the steps. You don't dare to question it, wanting to draw the least amount of attention. What little sunlight there is barely reaches past the bricks, and instead the way is illuminated by half dead lights swarmed by moths attempting to find warmth. You can't help but feel itchy, looking towards the moths. Have to remind yourself that they can't carry you away, that they aren't just going to pick you up, even if it feels like they could.

Afraid of catching the gaze of anyone, you focus on looking at the green of John's back, trying not to trip him up while also attempting to keep close by. His sudden turn takes you by surprise, and you are quick to follow him up the short steps to a backdoor. The light above flickers in attempts to stay on, and looking about you see that the 'crowds' have died. John knocks on the door, and as he waits for a response you keep an ever careful eye out.

"Shit, looks like we're too early..." John says, the wait much longer than you realized.

"So now what?"

"We can wait here. Shouldn't be more then an hour." There's some difficulty, but with your help John manages to find his place on the steps. You stand about for a moment, and realizing you two aren't going anywhere you take a seat on the step in front of him. Trying to be sneaky, you watch as John reaches to the wound, feeling it about with his fingers as he flinches.

You're in charge of his medication. If you just ask then John isn't likely to just take it, but it may be the more polite thing to do. Or you can just try to make him take it, tell him it's doctor's orders and that he needs to do it to get better! Then again, maybe you're just being overly careful about this. Maybe you should trust John on this too, and just wait for him to ask for the painkillers on his own whim. But as far as you're concerned, he allowed you to be in charge of these and you'll handle it the way you see fit...
Don't drink and quest kids, it's hard on your lungs.
See if there are any instructions from the hospital, and keep an eye on his face. If he's in too much pain, it should be painted on his face, right?
You dig into the bag, finding the paper bag easily and looking at the stapled receipt on the side. Scanning over the small print, you do your best to read in the lack of light. A lot of warnings, reactions to look out for when taking it, what to not do or drink when taking it...you finally find the recommended dose. Something about taking it every two hours when needed...there's a dosage amount listed, but you can't really understand it. Something like one pill you think, you hope so anyways, that's what you'll try to give him when the time comes.

For now you try to sneak a peek at John, reading his face the best you can without letting him know what you're trying to do. He shouldn't be trying to hide his pain, not after offering his blood to you like that. He looks tired, that's for sure. Of course he's going to be in some pain after walking so long without rest, but is it enough pain to go ahead and give him the pills? It feels like you're not clear enough to make that choice properly right now, but you can't just let your duty slide. You must have taken too long though, as John notices you looking over at him. His exhausted and exhausted expression is replaced by with a drained smile instead, and you know that he won't let you seem him in pain.

"Are you like, feeling okay and stuff?" you know the answer you're going to get, but it would be good if you at least tried to ask.

"Yeah. Ready for a nap, but it's all good missy." You don't want to accuse him of lying, for all you know he really is handling this fine. But if it's just you missing all the obvious signs and John really is in pain...

"You should take like, one of these."

"No need for that."

"Just one. The instructions said like, every two hours. It's been like..." you look around trying to find an indication of the time, the only clue coming from the sun setting, "Been like...six hours."

"Ain't anything I can't handle. I appreciate you keepin' an eye out on me though." John is trying to be polite, but you already have the bottle in hand. Maybe he doesn't want to seem weak because he's in pain, but what harm could one pull do?

"Just take this one." you hold out the pill in your hand, John shaking his head and trying to push it away.

"I'm good."

"I'm just following the instructions. And it looks like you could like, use it right now...it's just one pill. So I don't have to worry about you." You keep the pill in your palm, expecting John to refuse it again. For a minute it looks like he is about to, starring at the white pill in your hand. With a shaky hand he takes it, pausing for a brief moment before popping it in his mouth. Satisfied that you've done your job, sort of, you look in your bag for the water bottle. Just as you pull it out, you can hear the nearly silent sound of crunching. You are about to ask John if he chewed the pill, but you don't want to nag him further about it and just hand over the water. He was already going to take it anyways,not like chewing would do anything anyways. Right? Still weird that he would do that, but you'll just chalk it up to him knowing something you don't.

"Dammit..." John curses before taking the water, visibly upset as he drinks.

"I just want to make sure you're gonna be alri-"

"Not you. It's me..." John doesn't explain any further, leaving you confused about what the problem is. For now you make sure everything is packed away neatly, trying to figure out when you should try to offer him the next one again. It must be time for whatever it is John has been waiting for, as he rises to his feet with help from the railing and knocks on the door again. This time he knocks harder and for longer, and it only takes a little bit for the door to crack open. Not that you want to admit it, but you're pretty much hiding behind John and only taking a peek to see who has answered. You had expected a man, but to your surprise a woman stands in place. The smell of stale cigarettes and alcohol waft off her clothing, and tired bags beneath her eyes with attempts to cover them with makeup give away that she so very much belongs here.

"Pretty early, don't think any of the girls are ready for customers yet." she yawns, looking from John then at you, raising an eyebrow in mild concern.

"Not here for business ma'am."

"He ain't someone's kid, is he?" The woman tries to light a cigarette and you recognize that she means you. Rather than correct her, you'll just take it as a good sign.

"No ma'am," John pulls out his own lighter, hers failing to spark. He lights her up, receiving a short thanks as she finally exhales smoke, "Just wonderin' if you could tell me where to find someone."

"If I know them. Who you looking for?"


"That fruitcake? Don't know why'd you want to see him, but that isn't my business. If he isn't tinkering about behind Cherry then maybe try Oak. And if he's at none of those then check behind some of the bars. Best I can give you." John thanks her for the help, and you wait till you're both out on the sidewalk before asking questions.

"Is Dan the guy who will help us find where everyone is?" As you walk it takes all the effort you have to not get distracted by all the passing lights, trying to keep careful attention and John and anyone passing by. It's only a Thursday night, but it's as if the streets have woken up. Course you can't imagine what it's like on the weekend, but hopefully you won't have to find out either.

"Sorta. Gonna help us find the guy who can help us find Sam anyways..." John is starting to talk slower and more deliberate, and you notice the slightest twitch in his fingers. Must be the stuff kicking in, but you hope that this is as bad as it will get.

"I don't think she liked this Dan guy too much."

"Trust me, I don't blame her for that," John stops on the corner, looking about as cars pass on the street, "Don't blame her one bit..."

John mentioned being down here a lot before, and while you can imagine you don't know for sure. He seems to know this place well, and while it might not be your place to ask it might be good to know. It could at least help you figure out what kind of people you're going to be seeing, where you guys might go...something to prepare yourself.

That might be rude to ask, or he might not want to talk about it. Bringing up bad memories might not be good for him, despite how curious you are about all this. Let sleeping dogs lie, or whatever the phrase is. Maybe you could just ask about Dan or...or maybe it would be best to just follow John and let him think in silence.
John needs to keep alert, we can always ask about the area when we're safe.
No use bothering John about this right now. He wouldn't take you to someone he didn't think was safe enough for you to be around, and asking him about his past here would just be bothersome. Right now you should just focus on staying close to him, all without stepping on his heels or tripping him up. The buzzing in your head has died down, and while you wished it remained for longer it's probably a good thing. Another half hour or so and you'll be able to pay attention and behave properly...and then you can try to deal with the pain and headaches later.

You nearly run into John as he stops in his tracks suddenly, turning to go back the other direction.

"What's wrong?"

"Think we passed the street. Forgot to read the signs." John says calmly, backtracking where you two had just walked. It doesn't seem like him to just forget something this important, maybe he's just that exhausted right now. The doctors wanted him to rest, not go running around town trying to look for people. Not like John has any real place to rest anyways...or you for that matter. Still, if John's going to be this out of it you're going to need to step up and cover when he slips. This time John does have to stop to rest, leaning against a brick wall covered in ripped and faded out posters. He pulls out a cigarette, trying his best to light it. The twitch in his hand persists, keeping him from getting the lighter to properly spark like it did before.

"Uh here, lemme do that..." you take the lighter and successfully produce a flame, John finally managing to get the cigarette lit.

"Thanks," he says, pocketing his lighter again, " 'fraid I can't in good measure offer you one though."

"It's fine." You stand next to John, waiting for him to either finish his smoke or continue walking. Right now you remember the 'special' cigarettes John gave Lawrence before, to help him with his pain. Right now you can't help but feel a little bit guilty about smoking one of them now; you know you shouldn't have, but it was just something that you'd never experienced or seen before. Curiosity got the better of you, and you're still not sure how to feel about that whole situation.

"Dan better be able to help us..." John says, letting his ash fall to the sidewalk, "If he can't it might take even longer. Don't know when that snow is supposed to come around again, but I'd rather not get caught in it.

"Me either. What would happen though? If we can't find everyone before it comes down? I don't think we could go back to the apartments."

"Going back there would be a bad idea. Really bad. Don't think any of those guys would be too happy about us showin' our faces around..." John goes silent, and it feels like the same thought has struck him.

"You don't think they would do something because of...because of Warren, do you...?"

"I...I don't know missy. I don't know how soon they would find out, or if they knew who did it. But if they did...shit. It could be trouble, it really really could be..."

"Oh my god-"

"Don't freak out. Someone brought your bag to you, right?"

"Yeah...L-Lawrence did..."

"And he was helping Sam out, right?" John throws the cigarette butt to the ground, smashing it under his heel, "You think he'd be at this new place or over at the apartments then?"

You try to think about your answer carefully. Lawrence brought your bag, but he had been messing around with all that drug business...you're sure he helped Sam, but you have no idea. Of course he could be at the new place, but if he got into trouble between then and now...

You could just pray that he is at the new place and tell John that you'd think he'd be over there. Less things for John to worry about...

But if you're wrong and he isn't there, then you'll need help finding him. That would mean giving off what he was doing, and you're pretty sure he doesn't want that. But if you tell John that right now, it could help him prepare for anything that goes wrong, in case Lawrence didn't find his way back safely.

Then again, you just honestly don't know. That would be the more truthful answer, but it won't do much to help you out right now...

What do you tell John?
"I love you."
He probably would head to the new place, but we don't know. We can only hope.

If he's not there, we'll figure out whether to break our promise to get help tracking him down.
We should say nothing
"He's...he's probably waiting at the new place." You hope that you don't turn out to be a liar, and that Lawrence will be right there waiting for you to show up.

"Maybe that means everyone else will be there too. At the very least he can keep an eye out for who is there...enough talkin' and standin' around. Let's get where we need to be already, sorry about makin' us stop like that." As John passes by you refuse to look up at him, afraid that he'll notice that you're hiding something from him. It's not like you can really know anyways, but this is such a big secret you're keeping right now. You push it out of thought, following John as he leads you to the back of a bar. Down here you notice that more of the windows have bars on them, this bar not being an exception. The low yellow lights coming on let you see the few people inside, and you can only imagine how packed and rowdy they might be on a Friday night. An arm prevents you from taking another step forward, John holding you back as he allows a group of three men stumble past. If you had to guess, they've already been drinking far earlier in the day. They go by without any passing looks, too engrossed in their conversation about how work sucks. A few feet down there stands a lone man, looking around as if he's waiting for something.

"Looks like we found our man," That should be good news, but John has an agitated look to his face. You can't figure out why, but this is something he can explain to you later. Walking forward, John calls out to him, "Dan!" The man turns upon hearing his name, studying the approaching figures before waving ecstatically and running towards the two of you.

"He seems happy." you say, hoping this is a good thing.

"Brace yourself miss-" Before John can finish, Dan bounds forward and traps him in his arms.

"Jooo~ooohn!" Dan sings out, making you take a cautionary step back. Right away you can notice a few things off about him, between the woman's coat much too small for him to wear properly, the heavy handed makeup, the heels on his boots...for a man, he sure does like dressing like a woman. Not well of course, but you'd be a little wary about being seen in public with him. Then again, you were mistaken for a boy earlier so maybe you shouldn't judge too much. Something about this guy seems strange, past all the feminine pieces.

"Hello Dan," John responds grumpily, pushing Dan off of him, "And how are you?"

"Freezing my ass off, but it looks nice at least~"

"To be honest, I was half expectin' to see you in a dress..."

"Funny as always, Johnny boy!" Dan giggles, his words having the slightest slur to them. You look up at John, trying to get an answer for all this. The best John can give you is a shrug and eye roll for the man's behavior. "Been too long since the last time I've seen you...and you. I've never seen you around before." Dan points a manicured finger at you, bending down to meet at eye level.
His chin shows signs of attempting to shave but either missing in places or growing back unevenly. Parts of you want to laugh at his goofy appearance, but part of you is scared to bring it up too.


"Don't bother her too much Dan, we've been havin' a rough time." John attempts to bring his attention back, but Dan seems absolutely fascinated with you.

"I thought I could recognize that female charm behind all those baggy clothes. Poor girl can't even dress the way she should, just add a bit of red to those cheeks an-"

"Dammit. D A N," John pulls him up by the scruff of his collar, also bringing his gaze away from you, "We need your help, and we need it now."

"So crass John. You just leave me all alone one night and this is how you treat me after...how long has it been?" Dan bats his eyelashes, trying to act coy about it, "But I suppose if you really do need my help...what do you need?"

"We need to find someone, a friend of Sam's. You know, uh...Whittaker. The one that's missin' a leg?"

"Oh I remember Sam. Which friend you trying to find?"

Dan nods, listening as John explains the situation briefly. All stuff you've heard before, you look around trying to figure out why Dan would have just been hanging out back here.

"Think you could help us find him?" John asks at the end, and Dan thinks it over.

"Knowing him...he'd probably be over at that tacky Angel bar. We can try over there first but uh..."

"But what?"

"What about her?" Dan points at you, "You really want to sneak her in to that place? You know how it is over there."

"Well what else am I supposed to do? Leave her outside?"

"It might be better if we're in there for just a moment...maybe I can find some ladies for her to stay with momentarily. And you know me John, I can vouch for them to keep sweety here safe for half an hour."

John looks down at you and thinks this over, obviously frustrated.

"You might be right but..." John is trying to decide, his fingers twitching more. "Dammit...can't think straight..."

"Well, then what does the little lady think?" Dan looks back down at you, "Wanna try and stick around the big boys, or would you rather hang out with some cranky hags?
Even for the area the bar sounds scummy, so it may just be safer to stay a couple of minutes with what could turn out to be prostitutes.
suck and fuck the "big" boys
Just a heads up, I have to head out of town in the morning so I won't be able to update till evening
Stay with the ladies. So far, prostitutes have done us no wrong and I don't see that trend changing
Hang out with some prostitutes.
The place they're going doesn't sound too pleasant, and you can't imagine sneaking you in would be an easy task. No matter how much you look like a boy, you'll still look way too young. You're probably not in the best condition to handle something so stressful. Looking at John, you're starting to have doubt about him being capable.

"As long as I'll be safe with them, I guess I'd be out of the way with those ladies right?" you ask, Dan nodding enthusiastically.

"They're probably going to be cranky bitches at this hour, but you don't have to worry about them. Little Danny here will just tell them to keep an eye out for you and they'll do it. Dan has all the charm for the girls and boys, you know." All the while during this John grimaces as he listens to him talk. You catch John's gaze though, trying to get any insight on this. You're only offered a slow shrug, and you carefully consider the options. Going off with strangers suck, but your choice feels like the most helpful.

"I'll stay with them. You guys won't take too long, will you?"

"No missy, I'll do my best to hurry back to ya. Just hang tight the best you can for now, and all this will be over." John offers his hand out in a gesture of a promise. You take it, feeling him trying to suppress the twitches in his fingers as he shakes. Looking over at Dan, you can see him turned around and hunched over. Letting go of John, you can hear a deep inhale from Dan before he sways in place, tossing a small metal canister to the side. "Really? Right now?"

Dan takes a moment to turn around, smiling wide behind the bright lipstick. "Don't scold me John, look at me! Fine already~" you can't help but notice that his words are slurring more, and though he walks confidentially it is in no means a straight line, "Besides, I thought it was fine. After all it looks like you-"

"Shut it," John butts in sternly, Dan raising a knowing and overdrawn eyebrow but not saying another word, "Let's get her where she needs to be so we can take care of our own business. And you can swear on these girls? Ain't gonna have to come back and knock your teeth in, am I?"

"Oh please, you used to trust me so willingly before," Dan feigns being hurt by this, testing John's patience. "But I've never steered you wrong before. She'll be fine hanging out with those ladies while you escort me to the bar. We go in, find your man and get what you need. Easy enough stuff~"

"But are these girls workin' right now?"

"Just on-call. Too cold to be standing around outside, that's what they say anyways. Now, what's your name again, girl?" Dan is asking you now.


"Cute name for a cute girl. I'm sure if you grew your hair out then you'd be even cuter-...anyways. Your job is super easy. Just go hang out with my lady friends for a bit while you let Johnny here do all the hard work, and then he'll just come back to whisk you away. Easy enough for you isn't it?" Dan sounds proud of his plan, but being with strangers worry you. You still have the pepper spray though, needing anything other than that would be an issue too big for you to handle anyways.

"Just be careful..." you mainly mean this for John, but if this Dan guy is helping you don't want to make him feel unappreciated.

John promises to you once again that everything will be running smoothly, Dan confirming each sediment. When Dan finally starts leading the way, strutting down the street you keep looking up at John. He walks like he's slightly out of it, hopefully meaning the painkillers are doing their job. The buzzing in your head is mostly gone by now, something that you miss. Thinking about it will only make you craze it more, and instead you try to focus on the task at hand.


"Just right up here...and if we just wait a moment..." Dan knocks on the apartment door, leading you inside a place just as rough looking as the apartments your group had been staying out. Then again, at least this place has working electricity and some semblance of heat. Looking around, sticking close to John's side, you're amazed that people pay to live in a place with half built walls and a smell of rot and trash. You hate to admit it, but the woman who answers the door seems like the kind of person who would be stuck living here.

"What do you want?" she asks, already annoyed to see him.

"I just wanted a quick favor-"


"Oh please, you can do this one thing for me~ It's quite easy, you lovely ladies don't even have to lift up a finger!" Dan tries to work his charm on her, but the woman is having none of it.

"Dan, I'm sick and tired of all these so called 'little favors' you always bring around here, y-"

"Iris," John speaks up, the woman looking up in response. Her mouth gapes in surprise, and John brings you forward, "I'm the one who needs the favor. Please."

"Jesus fucking Christ...it's like seeing a goddamned ghost..." Iris says, looking at you for a moment before returning up at John, "Is he your...?"

"This is Bunny. She's a girl from...from my group," John explains, looking ashamed at himself, "We all got separated, and Dan is helpin' me find them. Draggin' her around really ain't the safest option, especially at her age..."

"You just up and leave up out of the blue one day, and then you come back here expecting me to do this for you like nothing happened?"

"Iris. I know, I know that was shitty of me. I...the only thing I can say is that I'm sorry, and I'm a poor excuse of a man. But you already knew that part...please, pretend to forgive me for half an hour and let her stay here where it's safer," John is begging now, Iris standing there arms crossed and looking away, "This can be the last time you do anything for me."

"...you're a real son of a bitch, you know that John? You're lcuky I feel sorry for you and this girl right now. She can stay, but you better come back. Unlike you said last time." Iris is glaring at John now, and all he can do is accept it.

"Thank you Iris."

"Whatever. C'mon in kid, make yourself at home." You take one last look back at John and Dan before walking through the door. Five or six other women are either sitting around the couch or standing in the kitchen, the television attempting to play a movie through the static. Iris stands there at the doorway, no doubt throwing more guilt John's way. There's some quiet talking between them, only a few short words you can't hear before Dan reminds John that he was the one who wanted to hurry. Iris locks the door behind them, walking past you without another look.

"Who the hell was that?" Someone from the kitchen asks, but Iris walks straight to what you presume is a bedroom. The door slams shut behind her, and you're only left standing there just as awkwardly before.

"U-...um...I don't think she w-...was expecting to see....see John..." you stammer an exclamation. You doubt John was prepared to see her either, from the looks of it.

"John? You mean that good for nothing..." Another woman laying on the couch speaks up, but it seems she has lost either all the energy or will to continue speaking, only muttering out the last word "Junkie..."

"Look who's talking, hypocritical bitch."

You remain silent, starting to regret this right away.

"Hey I only do this when...uh...when we're stuck here at this...this shitty place. It's god awful here."

"Whatever you say, white nose. Hey uh...shit, what's your name?" The woman standing in the kitchen talks to you now, and you quickly answer.


"Alright. Just sit tight somewhere and...shit, I dunno. Try not to touch anything I guess." With permission to sit, you try to find your place for the next, hopefully just, hour. All the couches and chairs look like they were pulled from the dumpsters, you choosing an armchair so you can sit alone. The stained fabric does nothing to make you feel better, but you don't think standing is too good of an option right now. The coffee table is a cluttered mess, items and trash pushed aside from a small clearing in the center. It's almost cleared anyways; a small line of white powder lays in place, and you are instantly reminded of what lays in your bag.

These girls are probably well versed in this kind of life. Maybe they'd be willing to identify what you've been carrying around, and then you don't have to worry about anyone asking where you got it all from. You'd still be carrying it around, but knowing for sure what you have might give you some sort of ease.

Then again, maybe there are some other things you can try asking about. No doubt about it, these are the type of women to give you a blunt and direct answer, something you wish you got more often.

That could also mean your best bet is to remain quiet. You're already intruding on what you hope isn't their living area, and asking questions may just make you look like a bother.[/b
>remain quiet
You are too much of a wuss to talk to them.
Let's avoid drawing too much attention. These women could have... customers or whatever.
Best for you to not be a bother, especially now that you've probably came in and made them feel weird about you being here. This all reminds you of that time when you were first on the street, when you came across the girls in the street. But searching around for any sort of friendliness or familiarity, you doubt that you'll find another Michele. For now you sit there, trying to keep to yourself the best as possible. The girl nearly passed out on the couch, you're fairly certain her name is Trixie, makes an effort to get up at one point. You're confused when she just goes right back down to the floor, face against the table. As the short white line quickly becomes shorter and shorter you look away, feeling like that was something you weren't supposed to see.

"Christ, that burns..." Trixie mumbles, rubbing and scratching at her already red nose, "Cheap shit...feels like goddamned glass in my nose..." She looks over at you and back at the table, a pitiful look on her face, "Should have offered you some, sorry bout that."

"Since when do you share?" Another woman, Helena, remarks from her own chair.

"Bitch, she's a guest and like...all freaked out and shit."

"And you think offering her a line is going to help right now?" Helena barely looks up for her nails, applying polish to her left hand.

"I dunno, maybe. Helps me a bunch."

"Yeah? And look at where you are. Cheap whore doing cheap lines on a shitty table in an even shittier apartment waiting for some guy to call and say he's ready to fuck you. Bet that's real helpful." Helena looks up this time, a smug look on her face.

"Just remember you're here too you bitch." Whitney, the woman in the kitchen calls out, and Helena only shrugs and returns to her task at hand. Trixie keeps her head on the table, eyes half open, and you're unsure if she's awake any longer. A glass covered with smudges is pushed to your face, orange juice filling the slightly smudged cup. Looking up you see that Whitney is offering this to you, her own juice at hand. From the alcohol reeking off of her, you doubt there's only orang juice in that cup.

"So, you came with John huh?" Whitney asks, shoving Trixie over so she can sit on the couch.

"Y-...Yeah. I guess some of you guys know him...?" your hands tremble a bit as you try to take a tart swallow of the juice, nervous about talking with these girls alone.

"I remember him. Iris too, obviously."

"John...he the fag who refused to get rid of that nasty uniform?" Trixie asks from the table, slurring her words and attempting to keep her eyes open.

"That's him. Kept saying it was the only thing he left that made him a man. Whatever the fuck that means," Whitney takes a long drink from her glass, moving tipsily now, "Still think he was gay."

"Course he was! Iris said he would always freak out when a chick touched him!" Trixie attempts to sit up, only to loll her head back and against the cushions, "Never saw him get hard from no chick either, ain't that fucking weird for a man that was married? His poor wife, never got fucked I bet!" Trixie starts to laugh like she's told the greatest joke on earth, but this quickly turns to humming and mumbling to herself.

"Yet somehow that fag managed to break that bitch's heart. Don't know what she thought she saw in him, he was so ready to just up and leave like that. I'd say he was going to use her as a pump and dump, buuuuut..." Whitney finishes her drink, grimacing and shuddering from the bitter taste.

"You remember that time he came back here in that dirty ass uniform? Crying his eyes out like some pussy..."

You sit there in place, listening to each word the girls say while trying to remain quiet. Hearing them talk so awfully about John hurts, you want to defend him. But are you really going to speak out against these girls and tell them to stop? That John's a good man with a hard life? But you are a guest imposing, maybe your place is to sit there, shut up, and wait idly as terrible things are thrown around...

Either speaking out to tell them John is a good man, defending your friend...backing down and just ask them to stop talking about him with you sitting right there, keeping the secrets he want kept a secret...or just be a wuss and play it safe, let them keep talking and bite your tongue...
Ask them to not talk shit about John. He's a better man than they can fathom, and unlike many others has made no effort to hurt or f-... fuck us.

We don't have to tell them John's secret, just that he's been there to prevent harm from coming to us.
>be a wuss and play it safe
We are already intruding on their hospitality by being associated with John in the first place. There is no need to worsen the situation.
Ask the ladies that they stop being so hard on John behind his back.
You grip the hem of your hoodie, trying the very best you can to remain calm. Hearing them talk so freely about a man that has helped you so much already is infuriating, and you can't stand to just let it happen.

"Said that uniform was his whole big testament to his status as a man, then he comes around here crying his eyes out cause he just had to go an-"

"Please stop it..." you're looking at the ground, your voice cracking and breaking on every word. Whitney looks over, surprised that you even spoke at all.

"What's wro-"

"C-...could you please not t-talk bad about John, n-...not while I'm h-here...?" Forcing yourself to look up, you try to keep your gaze on Whitney, "I...h-he's a good man. He's...he's helped me and he's...he's just a nice man. I..I can't say that about many guys...he's never t-...tried to hurt or f-...f-fuck me like others have..." You wanted to say more, to stand up and just explain why John is better then they're trying to say. You have trouble finding the courage to speak up more, but you don't want to just let this slide by.

Whitney is only looking at you with an gaped expression, Trixie giggling to herself and painfully unaware of what is happening around her. The glare of Whitney feels like it's boring a hole through you, and while you'd love to hide away you keep the eye contact. If defending his honor is the best thing you can do right now, then you sure as hell aren't going to just back down. Whitney breaks her sight first, muttering to herself before getting up to make herself another drink. As she's in the kitchen the phone rings, one of the other girls answering and talking for a brief moment before waving goodbye and heading out.

You already know what she's about to do, what all these girls are here for. Their job is to sell their body for money, that woman going off to have sex with a man. It's such a pitiful situation, and you're instantly reminded of Michele again. She was living such a dreaded life...one that you helped to cut short. Suddenly you feel suffocated, kneeling over in your seat in an attempt to not feel sick. Trixie is starring at you with half opened eyes, but you doubt she's actually looking at you. You wonder if this is what Michele did too, if this is what the girls do to help ease the pain and dread of their condition. Not that you'd blame them, there have been plenty of times before when you would rather have that floating and amazing feeling rather than try to get through the day. It's a sad thought but one that you shouldn't try to lie to yourself about.

Looking around the apartment, you remember spending the night with Michele. Of course her place was a little more comfy...just as cheap and poor condition, but it was obvious that she tried to make it her own. All it does is remind you of that night, offering none of the comfort her home did and only allowing the terrible memories to surface. You don't want to be in here any more, even outside in the cold would be more preferable to this.

The bedroom door finally opens again, Iris coming out wiping smeared eyeliner away.

"Erica head out?" she asks Whitney, getting a nod before the woman just takes her drink straight from the bottle. Iris walks over to the couch, kicking Trixie out of the way of the table. "Thought we told you to stop doing that here."

"Did youuu....? I don't remembeeer...." Trixie doesn't bother to stand, content with laying on the floor now. Iris looks annoyed, but you're not sure if it's from this or from John coming in earlier. Despite the scolding she just gave, Iris begins gathering the small remnants of powder remaining on the table in a minuscule pile. A razor laying on the end of the table helps her with gathering the few stray bits, and while you expected her to snort it up she seems to just be playing with it for now.

"So, I'm guessing you've only known John for a little bit?" she asks, not looking up from her task.

"U-Um...n-nearly a month now..."

"Yeah. Figured it couldn't have been long. Never saw you before, and you're too old to be his kid. Not to mention, pretty sure that guy has a son, probably a boy with the same stupid blonde hair as him," Iris holds the razor between her fingers, looking at the small pile before her, "Why the fuck do I still remember that..."

"I'm um...I'm sorry he brought me here...well no, he didn't b-bring me here...that Dan guy did," you aren't sure what will be okay to say to this woman, not wanting her to go off on you.

"Always figured I'd see him again, just laying somewhere in a gutter. He was walking with a limp, wasn't he?"

"...yes. He...got hurt recently."

"Still a fan of pills?" You remain silent, not sure how you should answer that. "Looks a bit cleaner then when he first left, but that ain't saying much. Must have been doing alright for himself, for a little while anyways. Better then me."

"...I don't think he expected to c-come here...Dan j-...just kind of lead him this way. I don't think he'd want to bother you..." you quickly shut up as Iris bends down to the table, her small pile disappearing shortly after.

"Fuck....that bastard owes me so much..." Iris rubs her nose, flinching suddenly and dropping the razor to the table. Drops of blood follow behind on the table, and a growing river travels down her wrist. "FUCK! Whitney! Go -fuck-....go get me a bandage or...or something!" Iris jumps up and runs to the kitchen sink, holding her sliced open finger beneath running water as the other girl goes to search for something to cover the wound.
You stare at the few drops of blood on the table, the smell of brine barely coming through. You want it, but you don't feel like you're going to lose control and jump to it. Still, a few drops could give you a little buzz, just for a bit...

Reaching out, you touch your fingertips gently against the deep red, making sure no one else is watching. You're ashamed of yourself, but God knows when you'll get any more, not to mention when you'll have to hold back around Sam. The red stained fingers are brought up to your face, and ready to get your small taste when another smell makes you stop.

It's faint, but the smell of rot has started to come up from the blood.

You remember the previous times you've smelt this before...

Jessica has this scent.

The junkie from the school, the one that tried to attack your group...he had this same rot in his blood too.

Iris is sick, and while you can't know for sure you'd have to guess that it's a recent thing.

You have no doubt in your mind that she's sick, and that it's not something she'll be able to just ignore. Hell, does she even know? She might not...you'd want to try and warn her, but that would mean giving yourself away.

The blood on your fingers reminds you of how sick Jessica had became without her medicine, how awful it was. By not telling her, Iris could go through the same thing...she could die if she didn't know what was happening. You doubt doctors are something readily available for them, but maybe if she found out soon enough...

But then they'll know you're a freak, or she just won't believe you or...or maybe they'll be scared of you...

The blood on your fingers remind you that you have to make a choice though...

Try to tell Iris that she's sick, or keep it to yourself?

[tell lady her blood is rotted or no?]
Whoops. left my prompt note on the bottom. I am not going to fix it either
>keep it to yourself
We should be focused on self-preservation, anything that might make them see us in a negative light may lead to unsavoury consequences
Definitely not. We would need to build her trust for that, and we are not at that point.
We could pretend to have some kind of chemesthetic disorder, like how some people can smell cyanide or can't taste PTC? We can detect this subtle rot-like odor from a blood disease...

It'd have to be worded right, though. Like making sure Iris actually knows that neat little tidbit about cyanide.
That might actually work
A little curious to tell someone you just met but we can say a friend is so far along that the smell is no longer subtle
Kill her then suck her blood and suck her dick
Rolled 2 (1d2)

1- Not telling her
2- Telling her
You're afraid to bring it up, you really and truly are. But keeping it to yourself would be the same as letting her die. Not that you should be ashamed for thinking about keeping it to yourself; even if you do tell her it doesn't mean she would listen, and at worst they'll think you're a some sort of freak and toss you out of here. It's a dangerous thing you're doing, but you'd feel guilty about letting someone get hurt when you could have stopped it.

Standing to your feet and meandering over, you try to keep just enough distance between you and Iris to keep away the smell. You feel like if John hadn't offered a little of his blood earlier, then you would have gone mad from such a small amount. Waiting for Whitney to finish bandaging Iris up, you try to wipe away the remaining blood on your pants, reminding yourself to keep those fingers away from your mouth. Iris looks pissed, but manages to get the bleeding under control for now.

"What do you want?" Iris asks, annoyed and still in pain. Whitney only gives you a slight passing glance as she goes to wipe up the blood from the table. You pray that she doesn't notice the red fingerprints you left behind. Realizing that it's now or never, you take a slow and shaky breath before speaking up.

"I know this is going to sound w-...weird..." you tried to sound confident, but looking at the peeved face of Iris this quickly failed.

"Hit me. I doubt you could weird me out." Iris is looking over the bandaging, her words doing nothing to make you feel better about this. Quickly you try to think of a way to excuse this, to make you sound the slightest bit more normal.

"When you c-cut yourself back there, you um...you got some b-blood on the table..."

"Yeah yeah, Whitney has it."

"No but um, that's n-not what I wanted to talk to you about..." you jump when the front door opens, a whole new girl stumbling in. She's either exhausted or not sober or a combination of both, barely giving a legible greeting before taking up the couch. Iris hardly pays any mind to this, her attention falling all on you. Ready to back out, you look towards her wrist again and feel a surge of guilt. "Um...a-...are you s-sick...?"

"What? 'Am I sick'? Do I look sick to you?" Iris sounds further annoyed, and this confirms it further to you. She doesn't know about this, she doesn't know that she's dying.

"It's j-just that when I w-was sitting over there I...I c-could smell it in your b-...b-blood-"

"The hell are you talking about?" Iris demands, Whitney coming up to listen at this point too. Having another person stare as you try to figure out a lie makes you even more nervous, legs shaking from the pressure. It feels like it would be so much easier to just walk out and find John yourself, to leave this whole matter behind. You have nothing to do with this, yet here you are. Mentally, you begin searching for any sort of answer that you could just pull out for this moment.

"I...have a s-...sensitive nose or wh-whatever," you do your best to recall science class, the day you guys were learning about genetics, "Like um...y-you know how some people can smell ca-...cin-...cy-...cyanide...? And with almonds or whatever? I'm k-...kind of like that. I have a friend, she's got that um...I d-don't know the name, but there's s-something wrong with her blood? It'll attack her b-body from the inside or whatever? She has to take these um, injections every once in a while so keep from g-getting sick. Anyways, I've smelt her b-blood before and she has t-this like...there's this like, rot smell in her blood. And I've only smelt it in p-people who I think are s-sick...I think they all have the same thing and I...I think you might h-have it now..."

"Are you trying to tell me I have fucking street rot?" Iris looks horrified, Whitney looking over her hands and rushing to the sink. You'd never heard a name for it before, but these ladies seem to know what it is. "How the fuck could I have gotten that?"

"You weren't careful when you had your legs spread! Dammit, this shit better not get me sick too..." Whitney is scrubbing at her hands and wrists, pouring all the soap available to clean her skin.

"And how sure are you about this? You aren't trying to pull some stupid shit are you?" Iris's voice is loud, every ounce filled with anger. Trying not to buckle under fear you nod, her hand clenching up tight.

"I don't have a reason to lie..." is all you can manage to say, and you watch as Iris all but collapses against the counter. You're fairly certain that you hear a sob, but when Iris stands back up it doesn't look as if she was crying at all. Instead she walks past, going to rummage through a drawer.

"Where's the gun?" she calls out, Whitney snapping around towards her.

"Oh no, you aren't doing that shit here, don't even fucking think about it. I am not dealing with that shit tonight!"

"Just tell me where it is."

"No. No, I'm not doing this right now!" Iris continues to look around in different drawers and shelves, Whitney trying to talk her out of it and you slowly inching towards the door. Your back is up against it, watching this woman start to have a meltdown. A knock at the door sends you jumping away, heart beating like crazy. Whitney tries to focus on calming Iris down, but the persistent knocking frustrates her and she points a finger over. "Go look through and see who it is! If it's some guy in like, a suit let him in or else leave it alone!'

Being tasked liked this is too much for you, but you also fear saying no. Standing on your very tiptoes, you spot the familiar sight of John waiting outside. You fling the door open, rushing out to give him a hug and separate you from this whole mess.

"Wasn't gone that long, was I missy?" John's voice is more feeble than before, but you're just glad he's back. You'd much rather be around him and Dan than to deal with this mess any more.

"It's-" you try to speak but the words get stuck in your throat. As John tries to comfort you the door is swung wide open again and Whitney shoves your bag out.

"You need to get out of here John, right now." she says curtly, John taking a step back from the force.

"Wait, what's going on? What's happening?"

"We watched your girl for you, now go." Whitney is trying to block the doorway, trying to keep him from looking in.

"Is Iris alright? Jesus, what hap-"

"Iris doesn't want to see you anyways. She helped you, now get. Jeremiah is on his way, and I'm pretty sure you don't miss him that much, do you?" John goes silent at this, Whitney turning her nose up as if disgusted, "Now take your sorry ass out of here and don't come back."


"C'mon John." Dan is no longer talking with his high pitched voice, his words rather low and gravely as he tugs John's shoulder. He tries to look past Whitney again, but realizing there's nothing else that can be done John concedes.

"Thanks..." he mutters, pulling you along to follow down the hall. The door slams shut, and you take a brief look back as you imagine what's going on inside.

You already know that John's going to ask you what happened in there, it's obvious. But as you think over all of it you feel worried.

You're not sure if you should tell him everything or just the part with Iris. Those other girls were being so awful behind his back, and then with Iris finding out she's sick...all of that would just put more stress on his shoulders. They want to sever ties with him, and this could be something that would make it hard for John to do again...you could always lie or say you just don't know...

But he has the right to know all the same.

What all do you tell him?
Just tell him what happened AFTER they'd talked shit, that one of the girls cut herself and her blood had a smell reminiscent of Jessica's, sorta rotten.

That we probably made a huge mistake in telling her about it, although the alternative seems to be not realizing until you're too sick. We picked the lesser evil, maybe?
Tell him you want to suck and fuck him
No reason to tell him everything that happened, just what happened from the moment Iris cut herself. Behind blurry eyes, you look up between John and Dan. A bloodied nose and black eye smudges the man's makeup, and John's bruised cheek lets you know that they didn't have any easier of a time tonight. You still cling close to John, letting him lead you to anywhere that isn't here, away from the mess you've made. Readily, you welcome the freezing winter air and the broken sidewalk beneath your feet. Anywhere would be better than here, and though you try to tell yourself you did nothing wrong it doesn't help the guilt.

"John?" Dan is speaking in a normal voice, deeper then earlier.

"Yeah?" John breathes roughly, sounding out of breath and in desperate need of a drink.

"Sorry that had to happen...and thanks."

"Yeah." As you follow behind John you try to decide how bad he is right now. Aside from the previous limp he seems to walking normal, slower but normal. His face doesn't look too bad, not besides the red and raised skin on his cheek. He's walking with an arm clutching his side, the same side as his previous wounds. They're roughed up, Dan especially from the looks of it. They managed to come back though, and you try to put in confidence that they've been through worse. Not exactly a great thought, but something to ease your mind. The group only stops when John is forced to lean against a wall to catch his breath. You insist that he lets you carry the bag again, trying to give him a little more space for walking. He nearly stumble down but Dan comes to his aid, hooking John's arm around his shoulder.

"I got you man."

"Yeah. Just like before, eh?" John manages to put up a grin past the pain, Dan returning it. You make sure to keep up, John constantly checking to make sure you're near by. Returning to where you first saw Dan, he helps lower John down to the steps leading up a backdoor. Leaning against the wall, Dan passes a cigarette over and both of them light up, their smoke mixing with their breaths in the cold.

"You're alright, aren't ya?" John asks and you nod, taking a seat next to him on the step, "Then you probably know what I'm goin' to ask next."


"Do you want to tell me?" Once again you nod, and the man stay silent waiting for you.

"You know how Jessica is sick?" you ask, "How she has to like...like take those injections or else she'll..."

"I do." John sounds somber, worried about what will come from you next.

"I was sitting by that Iris lady. She ended up cutting herself on a razor and got some blood on the table and..." Peeking over at Dan, you decide to skip the part about you wanting to taste it, "And some...some got close enough that I could smell it. And she had the same um, spoiled smell like Jessica's had. And I've only smelt it on few people, I think just the ones who are sick like that...a-and so I tried to warn her about it j-just in case, so she c-...could try to prepare or s-something and...and she got freaked out..." you trail off, hoping you won't have to explain any more.

"Wait, are you saying Iris has street rot?" Dan speaks up, confused.

"J-...Jesus..." John collapses against his hands, face starring at the ground as his shoulders shake, "No wonder she was so...f-...fucking hell..."

"Why the hell do you care? It's not like you loved her or anything," Dan remarks crossly, his face softening up soon with regrets over his words. "I'm sorry, that's not right of me."

"I lead her on, let her go out of the way to help me and left without a word...just to go make the same kind of mistakes again. I'm not really the good guy here..." John's shaky fingers hold out the cigarette, the low glow struggling to stay alive. "I just...just never thought about her going through that. She's always been so tough, but..."

"She's not dumb. She'll poke her nose around trying to find anything to help with it, I've heard they import medication over from Vietnam or whatever and that helps," Dan's face turns to ones of pity as he watches John, "You can't keep running back there, it's just going to make it worse for her. And I really doubt you want to stay here, sorry."

"I know, it's just...just a lot to take in right now..." John takes some time to calm down, his cigarette steadily becoming shorter, "How are you uh, holdin' up...?"

"Been better," Dan flinches, wiping off either blood or lipstick off his teeth, "But I guess I've been worse too."

"Sorry that escalated..."

"It would have regardless if you said anything. Don't think they could appreciate a man looking prettier than their girlfriends."Dan smiles, but it doesn't remain on his face long. They both smoke in silence a bit longer, and you're a bit worried to say anything else right now.

It might be two hours later, close enough anyways. You can try offering John another pill for his pain, especially if he got in a fight. Maybe you can see if Dan can have one too, you're not really sure if that's okay to do. He might have a little 'problem' like John does, you did see him suck in air from a little metal canister earlier and he acted loopy for a bit. John might think you'll offer them too much and deny your offer of a pill more often too...

Do you want to offer either men the pain medication? Or maybe they can see if any of the other stuff you have would help instead, you're not sure how that ecstasy stuff is supposed to work and Michele mentioned that white powder was good for pain...
He could just be putting on a brave face, but it seems like he's more sore than in pain. When we're somewhere safer and John isn't...like this, we can maybe ask him what the white powder is.

Ask them what street rot is, though. This is the second time we've heard the name, and the fourth time we've encountered it.

Suck and fuck the guys, better keep them happy ;)
You won't try to push any kind of medicine on them right now, and the other stuff can wait later too. Maybe having a moment to catch their breaths is all they need, and then you can think about what to do.

"Guys? What is that? The uh, 'street rot' or whatever? This is the first time I've heard about it but um, I know Jessica has it, and I've met a few other people who probably have it." you hope that this is an alright time to ask, but you would feel too in the dark if you didn't try to ask.

"Autoimmune leukopenia, or whatever the hell it's called. Some people call it Máu disease, but most people round here just calls it street rot," John throws the butt of his cigarette as far as can, flinching and watching it sizzle out in a remaining pile of snow, "Ain't a cure for it, and easy as hell to pass it on. Kinda anyways. Doctors and all that have to be careful around it, travels in the blood. Makes the body think everything inside it is bad and attack itself or whatever. You start dyin' from the inside out, and it ain't pretty. Best I can understand all that mumbo-jumbo, all I know is you sure as hell don't want it."

"I heard it spreads a little easier then AIDs does. Just what us working girls need, isn't it?" Dan snuffs out his cigarette beneath his heel, pulling out a mirror to look himself over, "As if it isn't hard enough out here for us..."

"Just be glad you aren't over in Vietnam. Heard it can get pretty bad in small villages there, some pretty wild stories too...I'm sure you heard of Sam's story about the boy tied up to his bed?" you nod, recalling how bad it scared you. To be honest it still does, you already know what it's like to lose control. "Never heard bout something like that happenin' down here, but I'm pretty sure those folks are dealin' with a lot more than we are down here. Then again, I'm sure gettin' your ass kicked feels bout the same everywhere."

"Just remember, there were four of them. No use beating yourself up about that. I'm sure if we showed them what we learned in training they would have done something stupid and dirty, like pull out more than that chinky little knife."

"Training? Like, in the army?" you ask and John manages to muster a grin.

"Believe it or, Dan and I served together our first terms. Hard to believe, lookin' at him now ain't it?"

"I'll have you know I was a great engineer, thank you. Till they discharged me for 'mental instability', crock of shit..." Dan is rummaging around in his pocket, pulling out something in the palm of his hand and bringing it up to his mouth. There's a quick inhale and the release of what sounds like air, and the man is forced to hold the wall for stability. John grimaces at watching this, shaking his head slightly as Dan comes back to his senses and tosses the metal object away again. "...I'm perfectly fine."

"Sure ya are man," John starts to stand, but obviously needs help. You stagger trying to pull him up, but manage to do it easily enough. "Shouldn't waste too much time now. Be easier to sneak over there at night, but now we gotta worry about the other jackasses walkin' around at this time in the night." You nod in agreement, looking over at Dan and wondering if that includes him.

"Um, John?" you whisper, motioning him to bend down enough for you to whisper in his ear, "Is your uh, friend coming along?"

"Was gonna talk to you bout that actually," John looks up, making sure that Dan is unable to hear the conversation between the two of you, "Normally I'd be fine with bringin' someone along, but I know you probably don't feel too good 'round strangers. Plus Dan can ah...sometimes attract more attention then I like. He's a good guy despite all that, but if you don't want to drag him along then I'll get us where we need to be."

You look back over to Dan, looking like he's trying to orient himself. Physically he's probably in better shape than John is right now, but you do agree that he sticks out, at least compared to you two. But if something were to happen to John, or if you guys needed help then having him nearby could be handy, he was in the army too after all...

Do you want Dan to tag along or stay here?
A kid, a gimp, and a queen. His presence might discourage dummies, or make them just throw insults, so sure. Beats being mugged because they figure John is an easy target
If Dan can still fight, we should let Dan tag along, he doesn't seem like he would harm us.
>Add party member
Bring Dan along in case John can't get it up ;)
Delilah is a little cock addicted slut and she needs her daily dose of semen
As weird and awkward as he may be, having another grown man around would probably be for the best. "Yeah." you whisper and John nods.

"Dan, you up with comin' long with us? Might be useful if I had an extra pair of eyes around."

"You sure I'm going to be any use to you?"

"Sure. I know you got some muscles under there still...just, ah hang on a second Dan," John drags him aside by the arm, having a quiet discussion. You don't try to butt in, though you wish you could. Instead you keep to yourself, trying to look anywhere else till their conversation is over.

"...alright, yeah. Yeah, you got it." Dan concludes, pulling up the stretched zipper up the coat the best he can.

"Still packing?"

"Told you I was earlier," Dan pats on the side of his leg, somewhere you can't see properly, "Don't got much in there though."

"That's fine. They won't know that. Just try to keep it in reach without lookin' like...well like you got your hand on a gun," John near misses his next step, and this time you come to keep him up and steady, "Think you can handle this missy?"

"Carrying you? Yeah, I can do that," you aren't sure how long you'll actually manage that, John's and the bag's weight already tiring you out, "Um, for a while anyways..."

"Just a little bit is all I need. It'll keep you close by to me too." Looking over, you can just catch the sight of metal in the low light as Dan investigates a small handgun before hiding it away again.

"How far is it?" you ask, but this time Dan answers.

"The other corner of town. Not back towards the bridge, towards the Brooklyn apartments on the other corner of town. Not as far as going to the other side of town, but still a bit of a walk." Dan's words are still slurry, but you're going to trust him in this.

"Kinda surprised it's over there. Was expectin' it in these parts, last time I was over there I thought they were nice places. Maybe not the nicest, but not where you would expect squatters." You watch each step, not wanting to rush John.

"Didn't you hear? Lot of those places are being closed down cause apparently they don't follow the city's safety code or whatever, and no one down there has the cash to get them fixed up properly. Few more months of that and those neighborhoods are going to look like a goddamn ghost town," Dan is a few feet ahead, heels clicking against the sidewalk and expertly avoiding the cracks and holes. You hope this means he's keeping an eye out, as that feels like too much responsibility for you, "Shame. Most of those places are historic or whatever. Just to let them fall like that is an awful waste."

"So long as they keep the snow off our heads, then I'll gladly accept them right now." John coughs, no doubt a result of his smoker lungs and excursion today. You keep a careful eye, not sure if you could really catch him if he manages to slip.

"I guess that's tru-"

"F a g g o t!" Dan stops in his tracks, looking over across the street. Three men stand on a corner, sharing a smoke. You can't tell which one yelled, but none of them make you feel good. Looking back over, you see Dan's fingers inch towards his pocket.

"C'mon man, let's just keep goin'. Let them yell like idiots." John gives a small push to Dan, encouraging him forward. Dan stares a bit longer, but eventually tears himself away to keep moving forward. It looks as though those men are talking among themselves again, but they don't try to call out again. Part of your face become painfully numb from the cold, a few snow flakes catching on your face. It doesn't look like tonight will storm, but you're not sure how long that will last.

Silence follows as Dan leads the way, occasionally having to stop and orient himself. You grow worried the first time you have to backtrack, but other then holding John up you have little else to offer. It must be past midnight at this point, and you don't care where it is as long as you can find somewhere out of the wind. Taking cautionary peeks, you notice John is having trouble with keeping his eyes open.

"Do we need to stop for a second?" you whisper, his head shaking back and forth limply.

"I'm fine..." he mumbles, but it doesn't make you feel any better. It's hasn't even been two hours yet, and John is already ready to fall asleep on his feet.

"Hold up, what's wrong?" Dan asks, turning to face you. "Do we need to stop?"

"I'm fine-"

"I wasn't asking you John," Dan motions at you, waiting for an answer, "She's the one who's got to carry you around. Do we need to take a few minutes?"

You look up at John, but you already know what the answer is going to be. He doesn't want to slow this down, wants to get where you need to be as soon as possible. It's not his choice right now though, it's yours.

Should you stop to rest for a bit, or try to get there as soon as possible?

I wrote this not sober, I apologize
suck and fuck
Better give John's hip some rest, just a few minutes. We won't get there any time soon if his leg gives out or something.
"I think we should stop here." John doesn't look too pleased, but you know that it's for the best. Nothing will change if you guys get there thirty minutes later or not, but the chances of him pushing himself too hard would make the trip near impossible.

"Alright, just real quick. I don't like standing around in the open like this, hard as it might be to believe." Dan finds a little space between two shops, just enough space for the three of you to squeeze into. Away from the bright lights and bars, the shops nearby have long since closed for the night and so you don't have to worry about too many people walking or driving by. You can't help but notice the very slight glimmer and shine from the frozen patches on the road, almost glad you guys aren't driving and having to worry about them.

"Just give me a few minutes, sorry bout all this..." John bends over, leaning against you and the wall. "Figured this wouldn't be no big deal, ain't the worst thing that sent me to the hospital."

"You still got shot," you remind him, " I can't imagine how awful that was, even if it was just one bullet."

"Oh stop it. You're going to make him soft," Dan lights up, offering one to John. When he denies it, Dan tries to offer it to you, and once it's turned down again he returns it to the nearly empty case, "John used to be a mean sonofabitch, let me tell you."

"Don't you be goin' and sayin' that. I was a gentleman, thank you." John's voice is soft, barely above a gravely whisper. You start to look for him the water tucked away in the bag.

"Yeah, when you were chatting up the ladies. Was always the weirdest thing. There goes John Boseman, going around making all the ladies swoon and then breaking their hearts. Would be kissing a girl one moment then making them cry the next. Don't know how you could do it."

"Wasn't my fault. Flirtin' a girl up is easy, apparently I've been doin' it without realizin' it. Doesn't make it any easier to turn 'em down you know, believe it or not I hate to see a girl cry." John points a thumb at himself, looking proud as he addresses you now, "I'm a real gentleman." You can't help but smile at this, giving him the reaction you wanted.

"And always trying to act tough and pick fights with guys. Even tried to pick one with me a couple times, how rude," it looks like Dan is trying to prim himself up the best he can, looking over his face in a compact mirror, "Course maybe you were too busy trying to remember me in camo."

"Still got your uniform?"

"Yeah. Don't think I could ever toss it out, even if it's too manly and rough for me." Dan almost seems to be reminiscing now, the slightest hint of a grin on his face.

"Got mine packed away too. Have a hell of a time trying to look at it but...yeah. Could never toss it," John is starring at the ground, and the words out of his mouth don't match the grin on his face, "It's the only thing I got to remind me I'm still a man."

"Yeah," Dan frowns, "Me too."

"But the days I can manage to put it on, I just remember some of the times I wore it. The first day, that last day, and just a few in between. Thing is torn up to hell and back, yet it feels suffocating. Like all the air in my lungs is gettin' torn out."

"Gets too damn hot. Like I'm standing right next to hell, flames trying to eat me up..." the ashes of his cigarette fall freely as Dan stares at the glow, "Like they're just going to grab me and pull me under."

You remain quiet, kicking at the front forming on the ground. There's times where you feel like that too, like you're being suffocated or burning up. Like the times you just wanted the earth to swallow you up instead, take you away from here. It seems neither of them know what to say any more, but when Dan speaks again you already miss the uncomfortable silence.

"They always said it would get better..." the cigarette is snuffed out against the wall, half its life remaining, "Guess they're a bunch of goddamned liars." You expect John to disagree, to say that things will still work out. The silence he offers instead just makes you look coldly to the ground.

"Alright, think I've had enough time. Let's get go-" A siren cuts off John, and Dan peers around the corner to watch.

"Uh oh..." he whispers, keeping a keen eye out, "Looks like someone is getting pulled over."

"That shouldn't be a problem for us, right?" John creeps up right next to him, pulling you along.

"Don't know. Might mean they're actually patrolling this area right now. I usually don't do well walking around the cops..."

"Cause you have to dress like a damn clown-"

"We're not here to discuss my alternative life style right now," Dan snaps, before returning his gaze around the corner. "I was hoping to stay around the front roads, but I don't like the feeling of looking out for cops."

"What's wrong with the back way?"

"You know what's back there. It's where we'll meet the guys that should be getting pulled over instead of us."

"Shit, guess you're right on that...wanna make the call?"

"Not really, I don't like either option."

"Me either..." John looks down frustrated. "Don't suppose you want to choose, do ya missy?" he asks somewhat sarcastically.

Also wrote this very not sober, sorry
Let John choose
go down the back way so we can suck and fuck the guys there
Street does sound safer, since we're not actually doing anything illegal, right? Except us being out way past curfew.
"I um...m-maybe the front streets? But...but you guys make the choice," you try to pass on your opinion, but honestly you're just as unsure as they are, "I don't know this area..."

"We do. I guess front way would work the best. Not like we're doin' anythin' wrong-"

"But it still makes me nervous." Dan finishes, and John nods.

"Guess I'll be the one to walk to outside. You should stay in the middle of us missy, and then you stay on the inside Dan," John takes your hand, making you walk where he wants, "If they stop, then we're just walking back from the bus station and we're-...er, I'm her dad. Guess it'd be best if you stayed quiet man."

"Yeah yeah, can we hurry this up then? Sooner we get out of here the better."


John takes another look outside and does his best to come out of the alley as inconspicuous as possible, you in tow. He's trying to walk the best he can, to hide his limp and walk at a reasonable pace. Dan keeping pace makes the sidewalk crowded, but if it keeps you all hidden then it's for the best. You duck behind John's arm as you pass the officer, only earning a slight glance. Even when he's far behind, you can't help but feel on edge. Any time a normal car passes by you can't help but jump, and the one or two police cars you have seen make you hold your breath.

"You uh, you know what's nice about traveling with a group right now?" Dan asks, randomly breaking the silence, "Don't have to worry about getting questioned if I'm waiting on the corner."


"Fifth goddamn time..." John mumbles, standing at a crosswalk as a police cruiser crosses the street.

"Think it's the same one?" Dan asks.

"Can't tell. Can't really see the guy inside, we might be travelin' his route."

"That doesn't really make me feel any better."

"I know," John sighs, watching the car turn around the next corner, "I know that."

"M-...maybe he's going to go back up the street? Or stop to get fuel or something?" you offer up, having nothing else useful to say.

"Maybe..." John mummers, "But that don't mean someone won't just be comin' up to take his place next..."

"Shit! Shit, John..!" Dan stops in his tracks, reaching to his leg.

"What? What's wrong?"

"My gun. I'm not supposed to have it!" Dan searches the street frantically, worried and feeling around for the gun, "If I get caught with it again...fuck, I don't know if I can handle this-"

"Dan, Dan I need you to calm down," John tries to hush him down. "You really should be the one to keep it."

"I'm not sober enough for this, fucking hell why did I take all of that...fuck, I don't know if I can do this..."

"I don't know if I'm sober enough either but, fuck I guess I'm in better condition than you. The gun is at least in your name, right?"

"No! It's completely illegal, I'm not allowed to have a licence any more!"

"Alright just, fuck Dan...why'd you have to freak out now man..." John looks like he's struggling enough himself, and you look at where Dan is keeping his gun.

You could easily hold the gun in your bag, but that would mean you had it. Doesn't make it any less illegal, and you might be in trouble if you need it but at least it wouldn't be on either of them...

John is offering to take it, and then you could get your knife back. He might be better at using it than Dan, but if he gets caught with it then that would mean big trouble for you and him. Than again, you feel safer holding a knife than a gun.

Of course, maybe it would be best for Dan to hold it. He knows how to use it, has a way to conceal, and as awful as it sounds it may be better for you if he's caught with it instead of either of you two...

What do you suggest to do with the gun?
cock it
put barrel in mouth
pull the trigger
We can hide it if it becomes necessary, but somewhere less conspicuous than our bag, maybe. Dan is probably just being paranoid from snorting marijuanas.
Dan can take the blame for holding the gun, and John should keep the knife.
Let John take the gun, Dan is too nervous atm to take the gun
We can take it
Not like the cops can search us without consent or probable cause
"I'll...I'll take it," you speak up, Dan looking at you relieved, "If y-you're worried about it, than maybe it would be easier if I took it?"

"Now hold on missy-"

"I don't mind, really. You should be fine with the knife right? They wouldn't think of looking for a um, you know...a gun on me."

Dan pulls out the weapon but stops himself, looking at you with a careful eye. "Now wait, I'd appreciate this, but you do know that a gun isn't a toy, right?"

"I already gave her safety lessons on them. With you all jumpy and me just...the way I am, she might be the more responsible one to take it right now, sad as it is. Er, no offense to you of course missy, but usually I don't condone the idea of a kid carryin' around a loaded weapon, but...it is just a Mustang I guess." John motions for Dan to pass it over, keeping a careful look over his shoulder as Dan huddles close to pass it to you. It's much smaller than you expected, nearly fitting in one of your hands perfectly. The weight of it does remind you very much that this is a weapon, something dangerous. As you look for a place to put it, John speaks up, "Make sure the safety is on."

"Oh! Um, right so like...like this..." it takes you a little bit, looking around in the low light but you manage to ensure that the safety is in fact on. Keeping it on your body doesn't make you feel safe, but stuffing it in the side of your boot seems like the only option right now.

"Secure in there?" John asks and you nod, patting the side of the now stuffed boot, "How many rounds are in there?"

"Well, there's one already in the chamber. So there's two in the magazine...I think." Dan makes a face as he admits this, and you try to remember all the training you've received so far.

"What do you mean you don't know how many are in there? Don't you do upkeep on it?"

"I've got more important things to worry about than if my gun is shiny enough to impress Lieutenant Boseman. Listen, can we stop standing around like this? I'd rather get where we need to be going now." You can't help but wonder if Dan is shaking from the cold or from whatever it is running through his body right now. For a moment, you begin to think about how his blood would taste, if his would have the same woody flavor mixed in like John's sometimes does. Of course that's not normal thoughts in the slightest, and you try to push them away in shame.

It takes a little getting used to walking with the gun in your boot, having to readjust your gait for it. If anyone questions it, you'll just try to pull it off as a sprained ankle. Dan ends up a few feet behind, and when you stop to look back the man is searching through his pockets.

"Come on, what now?" John asks annoyed, his eyes widening when Dan brings a clenched hand to his mouth, "Really? You're going to do that now?"

"Just need a little bit..."

"Can't you save it? You were the one freakin' out just now!" John releases you, coming up to scold Dan. Letting them take care of business, you notice the street is empty save for one car parked over on the corner a few streets down. No lights on inside, you just pray their spat is over soon.

"It'll help me calm down, just give me a couple seconds-"

"We don't have a couple seconds!" Your eyes flicker between the men and the car, the cold metal of the gun freezing your leg.

"We've taken breaks for you!" Before John can get a word in Dan inhales another of his canisters, the metal clunking to the ground as he staggers in place.

"Yeah, but we weren't stoppin' so I could fucking get high. I was s h o t. We're already havin' a hard enough time without you havin' to stop every five minutes so you can get high!"

"And I'm sure you didn't take any of his offer back over at the bar, hm?" Dan's face displays an undeserving smugness, tapping the side of his nose knowingly. John's fist clenches up, and you brace yourself for a fight to break out.

"...we don't have time for this. You know how our fights turn out anyways, we've been through enough of them." it sounds like John is giving up on the conversation, having nothing to counter Dan's claims.

"I'll uh, try to save the rest for later. Sorry bout all that, you know I don't mean it."

"Yeah." Both men sound bitter now, and it's unclear if they are always this volatile with each other or if it's from the drugs. John wasn't up to any good when he was down here, you know that. Now you're just starting to wonder if it's all to blame on the town.

Remaining between the two of them, for your safety and to keep them from tearing out each other's throats, the parked car comes closer into view. It feels like a punch to the gut when you notice the black letters on white paint, the turned off siren perched on top. Upon coming closer, you can see that the car isn't completely dark. An officer sits at the wheel, only the slight flow from his dashboard lighting him up. You have no idea if that's legal to do, but it feels like an awfully sneaky thing to do. You wouldn't be so worried right now if Dan could just walk straight. He's trying his hardest, but it doesn't seem to be good enough right now. It doesn't seem like either of the two have noticed the vehicle yet, and you slow your steps so you can think. You guys will need to cross the street, and in doing so will end up passing by in front of him.

The cop might be occupied with looking over whatever he has in the car, but you can't be sure till you pass by it. No doubt about it, he'll be able to see you guys from there easily enough. You know you had slightly suggested taking the sidewalk, but you can't help but think if ducking into the alley and passing the cop that way would be for the best.

Well, maybe you can just send Dan to go through the alleys. John might be walking with a limp, but at least he doesn't look...loopy. Not like Dan anyways, he could just meet you guys at the end of the block and with the cop car far behind.

Or maybe splitting up would be bad, and you guys should just try to stay up front...

What do you suggest?
suck and fuck the cop to distract him while the others pass
then slit his throat as he's ejaculating in your jailbait pussy, and slurp up all of that delicious blood and cum
Maybe it'll be fine. Dan just has to not freak out and we'll attract... less attention. Sorta.
Just stick to the street
No probable cause means no detainment means we don't have to stop if asked
Going out to see some ayyyyliums in Roswell today, I'll be back tonight!
Stick together and distract the cop if worst comes to worst.
Standing your guard on the street would be best for everyone involved, no need to split off and look suspicious. You guys aren't doing anything wrong, not that the cop would know about. It's not like he can tell that you have an illegal gun in your boot, or that both the men next to you are probably higher than a kite. Just have to keep calm and walk past him, you can do that. But the other two? Looking at John, he seems fine...tired and needing to sleep, but otherwise fine. Dan on the other hand, you know he hasn't been drinking but the way he's strutting makes you think otherwise.

Passing the cop, you can't help but grip John's arm. Just need to keep your eyes forward, walk like you know what you're doing.

"Loosen up a bit, you're hangin' on a bit tight there-" John says, only noticing the car once the headlights flicker on and it pulls forward. Any flight response leaves, and instead you bury your face away in his sleeve as if to hide from the officer. Beneath your grip John tenses up, shuffling you to stand behind him. "Not a word, you hear me?" He whispers, and you only nod.
"Hey, excuse me?" The car comes to a stop, the officer calling out from his open window. The red-and-blue lights are off, and the officer sounds rather friendly for this time. "Sorry to bother you er...folks, but I was just hoping to ask you some questions."

"Well, so long as they're brief officer. Bit chilly out here." John tries to return the friendliness, Dan trying to hide his face away.

"I understand. You...uh, guys, walk in this area often?"

"Been a while since I was here sir."

"Well, we've had a string of robberies in this area for the past few weeks. Last few got pretty violent, and we have a feeling it's all connected to the same group of people."

"You think it's us?" John asks, and the officer shakes his head.

"No, doesn't look like you guys are out causing trouble. Maybe if you tucked out behind the alleyway, but I just figured I'd ask if you'd seen anything."

"Nothing but us out here tonight." John has a warm smile, but it's obviously faked for this moment.

"Figured as much. Keep safe out there and I hope you uh..." Dan catches eyes with the officer and tries his best to wave, offering an awkward giggle that throws him off, "...g-....folks have a good evening." A brief glance is given over you, but with your eyes pasted to the sidewalk that is all the attention you receive. John doesn't let you move till the car drives off, away and down the street.

"You feelin' alright missy?"

"Yeah...yeah, I'm fine. I um, I guess I was expecting something else to happen..."

"Guess the wrong person got robbed, there's never any of them around when you need them..." Dan mummers, glancing back at the alley.

"Might be for the best. Could mean less people out lookin' for trouble in that case."

"So long as all the others will be as nice as our gentlemen was. Just got to calm down a little, just need to relax." Dan shakes out his body, bones creaking and cracking as he tries to loosen up. John ends up leading the way again, Dan trying his best to remain calm and walk normal. You only focus on your feet, trying not to trip John up. There's no more time to waste on resting, and you don't even bother to bring it up. The sooner the better, quickness over safety. All you want is to see familiar faces once again, to get to the way things were just a few days ago. Even that was preferable over the things you've gone through, and you could finally use a rest.

The clustered blocks of buildings soon turn more scarce, turning to houses and lawn. By no means expensive, but each one was old and sturdy. The wear and tear on them hasn't brought them down yet, though you pass by a few that seemed days from this being untrue. John begins rambling off street names and numbers, trying to match up to the address given to him.

"Don't really think we can walk up to the front door. Most of these fences have locks on the fences." Dan comments, whispering lower than usual.

"Wouldn't be the best place to sneak in from anyways. We should try from the back, especially if we've got to fiddle with a damn lock."

"Shit, I can't read the numbers any more, can you?"

"Hell no. Damn everything is overgrown over here. Doesn't look like any one has touched it in months..." John stops to squint, trying to read what numbers he can, "Pretty sure it's that third one there."

"You sure?"

"Not really, but you think you know better than me?" John asks, and Dan gives in, and you move over from the streets to the dirty alleys. You doubt anyone would be bumming around the back of houses, but you can't help but look up and down constantly. Rusted metal fences jut from the ground, a mix of dirt and frost covering them. Behind John, you stand by waiting idly as he messes with a lock at hand.

"Looks like it's been used recently...bet Sam has a pair of keys for it and the other one is in the house."

"Can't you pick it open?" Dan asks impatiently, warming up his arms and casting clouded breaths.

"Take me a long time..." John mumbles, looking up the scale of the fence, "I couldn't do it with my body the way it is, but maybe one of you two could try scaling it and getting their attention inside. Maybe try to look around and see for sure first, make sure we were given the right address."

"You'd probably be faster than me at this," Dan says, looking down at you, "But I won't force you to climb that if you don't want to. Unless you think us ladies should stay back and wait for him to pick the lock instead?
climb so we can impress him and suck and fuck him later
Go take a quick look, at least so we can see if it's the right number.
It should be fine. If we do it while keeping some distance, we can run.
Might as well scale the fence
"I can do it," you offer, handing you bag over to Dan, "It's not that tall anyways."

"Just gotta try and stay quiet, keep your head down and all that." John whispers, trying to peer into the neighbors yards.

"Can I get a boost up?" you ask John, but Dan steps up.

"Here, I got you." he offers, handing the bag off to John. He kneels down, and you soon find yourself standing on his shoulders, trying your best to balance without stepping on Dan too much. When you are forced to grab the fence or lose your balance you can't help but cringe at the sound of metal rubbing up against itself. Keeping still, you notice that no one has came out yet to investigate and that a little bit of noise like that won't be the end of the world. With as much grace as you can muster up, you swing your leg over the metal gate and try to shimmy your way down the freezing metal.

"Good job missy." John praises you quietly, trying to scope out the yard now. A two story house, its roof checkered with missing tiles and a busted window, the blue building is old but it looks sturdy enough. The bare patches of dirt that poke through the small piles of snow and overgrown bush branches tell you that no one has been here to take care of the place though, not in a long time. You try looking for some footprints left behind, but the mess of mud and frost doesn't help your search in the dark. It looks like there might be some, but you can't tell if they are recent or not.

"Should we stick back here?" Dan whispers.

"Yeah. Doesn't seem like anyone is up. Long as we don't make a commotion we should be fine," John looks at you now, waiting by for instructions, "You feel fine with doing this?"

"I think so. I just want to get inside at this point..."

"Understood. We were told 518 would be our house, and now we just gotta try to find a way either in or to get our group's attention without lookin' like a buncha burglars. If you feel like someone is comin' around and they ain't one of ours, either try hiding or comin' this way. Barely any light back here, so it should be easy for you to just kinda zip around without attracting too much attention-"

"Would you let her do this? You're just going to end up freaking her out more if you keep talking like that." Dan interrupts impatiently.

"Alright alright. Just always keep an eye and ear out, don't be afraid to come back here if you get scared." You nod in agreement and move to the edge of the fence, traveling along the metal that separates the lawns from each other. Dying foliage offers little coverage but it's better than nothing. Before checking any of the windows you slink your way to the front of the house, looking for the faded numbers. It tough, but you can just make out the painted 5 1 8 by the door, making you feel a little better about sneaking around. Still, the idea that this could be the wrong place lingers in the back of your mind.

Slipping around to the back again, you approach the glass door. It leads directly to a kitchen, giving you a the view of an emptied and dark place. There are some miscellaneous items strewn about, but nothing to tell who is inside for sure. On a whim you try to slide it open, stopped by the lock. Forehead pressed against the glass, you try to look in further to get any glance of someone inside, or something you would at least recognize as theirs.

Your heart seizes up when you hear a window sliding open, and pressing your body flat against the wall you attempt to look for the source of the noise. The next door neighbor just looks to be smoking a cigarette out of their second story window, unaware of your presence. You still can't help but try to cover the sound of your breathing, hands over your mouth to muffle the already quiet noise. The few moments between that and the window shutting again feel like hours, but when the neighbor pops their head back in you can't help but breathe a sigh of relief. Looking towards John and Dan, you try to let them know everything is going okay before looking over the house again.

Trying to peer past the doorway leading to what you assume in the living room, you try to make out any shapes in the darkness. You nearly jump out of your boots at the first sign of movements, but this anxiety turns to joy when you catch the very tail end of a small dog.

"Buttercup..." you breathe, ready to get her attention. It looks like she's digging or eating something, her attention turned away from you.

You could try knocking against the glass, making her come over to where you are and hope someone notices. You're about ready to do that, but then you realize that she might bark. Not that big of a deal, except for the fact that this house is supposed to be empty.

But if Buttercup is inside, that must mean someone else is too. Having Buttercup bark for who knows how long might be a problem, but trying to look through some of the side and front windows might work better. So long as no one sees you, that is.

Or maybe you should let the men figure this out now. At least you can let them know this is the right place in that case.
Look into the window
Shit, all the new quests are pushing me down faster than I expected. Doing school work today, will make a new thread tomorrow.

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