Burard sat with Lint curled up in his lap, dust blew in the dirty alleyway. Burard was used to this, he was born and raised here. He liked the dirt, the fights, and espscially the blood that was spilled, but he wouldn't say that out loud. There were a lot of things he wouldn't say out loud, but if he did, people would kill him. So he kept quiet, only watching, waiting for the time to speaking. The right time to kill.
(in all the roleplays that I do I do the evilish kid who a sadistic creep but turns good... Eventually...)