Peter's life was by no means an easy one. Well, it had it's moments, but it certainly wasn't easy. He did think, however, that his view of the city of London did go some small way in reparations. London sprawled before him, an endless tangle of streets and cars and people lit not by the stars in the sky but by the few beads of light that lit the houses and towers of the city. Rain fell heavily from the sky, a dank but comforting sound that made the streets smell and the small room that he had claimed seem even smaller.
"Pete, pull the curtain. You'll get the floor wet," his companion drawled lazily from where she had flopped down hours earlier on the mattress in the corner. Bella pushed herself up on her elbows to regard him from the floor. Her violently green hair hung in damp strands over her brow and her eyeliner had dried in sad rivers down her face, still left from when she had returned earlier.
Peter flashed her his teeth in a quick smile, but stepped back, and let the curtain fall back in it's place. It made no matter that he'd be exiting through it momentarily. Pushing a hand through his messy hair, he sauntered to her side, letting the toe of one foot gently kick the mattress. It let out a pitiful squeak. His lips set in his trademark smirk, he settled in to a crouch, reaching forward to push her hair back from her brow. He looked into her blue eyes when he replied to her.
"Bell, it's going to be cold and wet in here whether or not that curtain is open," he spoke before patting her shoulder. He looked around the dismal room. He and Bella had claimed the alley below years ago, but only realised in recent years that they could get to this room if they scaled the side of the wall and entered through the window. It was little more than a backroom, and since Bella had found a place at a hostel and a more or less steady job as a dancer, he'd made it his own. Scraps of whimsically bright cloth hung in drapes from the ceiling, and he'd hauled a few crates up to act as tables and chairs and storage. There were also patched cushions and blankets, and he'd scavenged a poster of a cat which he'd nailed over the door. They'd tried to open it, ut it was blocked on the other side. The shelves that lined the walls had a couple of picture books, as he couldn't read, and more than a few small candles in glass jars. Sometimes, it was even warm, but it was always home.
Stretching, he straightened, and went to the shard of glass that hung on a thread from the ceiling. Looking into the mirror, he saw himself. Tattered jeans and a black hoodie to cover the stained shirt beneath was his usual. He let the makeshift mirror go, and it swung back into place, fluttering with the slight breeze from the window that wouldn't shut.
"I'm going to take the lads out. See if we can't bring home the bacon"
Peter spoke to Bella, knowing full well that he wouldn't get a reply. The girl had fallen back into a dumb stupor, but he knew she'd be gone by the time he returned. He went to the window, pushing aside the curtain to look down at the alley. He could see his boys down there, though admittedly the group was made up of just as many girls. They were all different ages, but none older than 18. The alley was wide enough that they'd built there, but small enough no one had noticed. It was little more than a few planks caught between the two walls that made it, but it was shelter. Draped with more than a few scrappy bedsheets, it made for a little shelter, where maybe a dozen kids of different ages were huddled out of the rain.
There was another, a little further along, and some chose to huddle against the walls beside crates. Despite the rain, there was an air of good cheer. He smiled, rubbing the palm of his fingerless gloves as he looked down at them. The group he harboured changed regularly, but that was okay. At the far end he could see a fire someone had lit in an old bin, and a few kids warming themselves by it. The wind blew hard, rattling the frames of their shelters, and he steeled himself. No more procrastination.
Peter set his foot on the sill, and gripped the sides of the window, just about to vault out to climb down the familiar route on the wall of the building when his attention was caught by an inarticulate mumble behind him. He paused, looking back at Bella, and sighed. Stepping back into the room, he slipped an ancient blanket around her, and then left. Jumping athletically from the window, he landed heavily on the ground.
"Eh, up, lads!" His voice travelled easily down the alley, "Let's go for a walk."