The A-Team: Lost In NYC {ic}

[Imagine That!]

New York City.

19th of June, 9:36 AM.

Copperfield House, which sat at the end of Copperfield Street, was a small, and old house that had been "renovated" into apartments. Only housing four small apartments with two bedrooms each, these apartments were not meant for those with riches. The bedrooms could barely fit a double bed and a wardrobe in them, the paint was crumbling from the walls, and there were a few cracks in the ceiling. The kitchens were small, the bathroom smaller, and the living room almost non-existent. The traffic on Copperfield Street wasn't as bad as one expected in the middle of Downtown New York, but still on a Friday night, the noise from outside was more than one desired to hear when trying to sleep. However, for someone without the money to live in an upper-class part of town, Copperfield House was the best that little money could buy. Well, rent. Four people already lived in two of the apartments, a rough and grizzly looking man named Don, and a petite blonde girl called Olivia lived in Apartment Two, and in the other, lived a boy named Bode, with a mop of hair upon his head, and a pixie-like girl in large glasses called Lua lived in Apartment One.

~*~

Olivia stretched her arms above her head, her palms pressing against the fading wallpapered walls of her small bedroom.. She had the smallest room in the apartment that she shared with Don, purely because she was the last one to join their little group of "Others." Yes, she was in a relationship with Don, so sometimes she did sleep in the same bedroom as him. She felt safe when she was curled up against his side; someone was there to protect her. But when he wasn't in, like he hadn't been the night before, she stayed in her own small room, where there was no room for anyone to jump in and attack her. She groaned she rolled over in her bed, pulling the duvet up to her chin as the coolness of the morning hit her like a brick. She had forgotten to turn the heating back on again last night before going to sleep, and now she was going to pay. Sleeping in a tank top and a pair of patched up pyjama bottoms probably didn't help keep the heat in either.

Sighing to herself, she flicked on the light that was situated above her head, and winced for a moment as the bright light hit here eyes. She wondered if Don was home yet, and if it was safe for her to venture out of the safety of her room. She would only leave if he had checked over the room, you see. Maybe she was too paranoid, but for someone who went through what she did, who could blame her? Liv lay there in bed for a moment, thinking how much Don really did do for her. He was her saviour. Of course, that hadn't gone down well with Lua. Olivia believed that the dark haired girl didn't like her much because she was brought into the group by Don, who Lua was extremely in love with. And when he grew protective over this new, broken girl, she maybe got a little jealous? That was why Lua had moved in with Bode, and she was now living with Don; Liv felt like she was the reason that the two of them broke up. I am. There's no other explanation.

Laying in bed was getting boring now. She wanted to get up, have a shower and have a small breakfast before hopping outside to work, selling her clothes on the street. Sure it wasn't like she was working for Donald Trump, but she loved her job. Slowly, the blonde crept out of bed, her blonde tresses sitting as a mop on top of her head and tumbling down her back as she walked timidly towards her door. Her hand was shaking as she reached out for the knob, and twisted it slowly, flinching as she did so, as if something was going to pop out and hit her. She manoeuvred her head through the smallest gap possible in the door, and looked around.

"Don?" She whispered, hoping that he would hear her if he was home. "Don?"

[DumbDora]

Last Night. 18th of June.

Don Levine, had struck gold last night. This is how it went down.

Scheduled, usually, to close evenings, Don was the only one left within the repair shop, and although he didn't usually work the front desk, he was expected to return the keys to a shiny BMW to it's owner. Don had spend the greater part of his week fixing up the car that was in a recent crash, the job was a priority because the man, let's call him Beemer, paid shit-loads of money to have it finished as soon as possible. And now that it was done, Don got to meet the infamous man. He was young, around Don's age, and when the guy pushed through the glass doors, Don put on his con-face. They spoke about cars, work, and sports, and before Don knew it, he had to lock up and leave. Needless to say, he didn't go home, the guys went out for a beer to the nearest bar. They talked, they laughed, Don mention Olivia a couple of times, Beemer mentioned his ex-wife. The two were meant to be buddies.

"...So, she packed up her bags and just went out the door-- she made it seem like it was my damned fault, too," The guy sulked, to which Don shook his head, clearly buzzed from the couple of beers he's had already.

"That's bullshit, I don't know what'd I do if I found out my girlfriend was cheating on me..." He sighed, casting a sideways glance at his 'buddy's' drink. Scotch and coke, perfect combination for a slip.

"Yeah, from what you told me, she seems like a nice girl," Beemer grinned, "She got any girlfriends?"

"She is," Don smirked, "All of them are in relationships," he lied through his teeth.

"Don't matter. If my wife could cheat at the drop of a hat, what makes you think other women won't?" Beemer reasoned, which made Don uncomfortable with that sort of information, especially when he had a guilty concience himself.

"You're the expert," Don chuckled briefly, shrugging his shoulder and nursing his beer.

"That's right," Beemer patted Don's shoulder, "But now the expert is off to go piss-- Get me another drink while I'm gone."

As soon as the guy was out of sight. Don ordered the drink, and leaned over it, pouring in enough drug to knock Beemer out over the hour, make it seem like he just got very sloshed. The next hour went by quickly, and respectably so, Beemer's eyes grew heavier and heavier as time went by. Eventually, around 2am, Don was left sitting in a deserted bar with the guy passed out over the bar counter.

"Ya'll need to go, we're closing," the bartender explained, impatiently.

"Yeah, yeah," Don muttered, the 'Con Don' facade dripping away with the depth of his friend's slumber. He rumaged through Beemer's jacket pockets until he found his wallet, fishing through it. "Here," he tossed a few bills down for the bartender, then pocketed the rest. "Keep the change."

The amount of time it took for Don to lug Beemer to the taxi was speedy. "Where's he going?" The cab driver questioned, his arm resting over the back of both chairs. Don fished Beemer's wallet out again and read the address out to the driver, then tucked it into Beemer's front pocket, closing The door neatly. As far as Beemer would know, he'd spend all that money at the bar, surely his friend didn't rob him, it wouldn't make sense, he was so nice. While Don walked away with several hundred dollars, a mighty loot compared to his other cons.

By the time Don returned to his and Liv's apartment, it was a bit before 3am, and although he looked forward to cuddling with a warm body, he didn't want to wake the blonde in case he scared her out of her sleep. She was a bit jumpy, he knew that for sure. So he maneuvered into his own bedroom and fell into the bed, not bothering to get out of his clothes before he fell asleep. And he'd sleep through the night and into late morning, failing to hear Olivia call out his name.

[SilentButterflies]

He doesn't love you. He never did. He cast you aside like rubbish as soon as the next piece of skirt came along. You weren't worth it. You weren't worth any of it. You weren't worth him. She isn't worth him. You're the only one he needs, Lua. You were meant to be. He found you first, he came looking for you first. Don't listen, Lua. You have to get him back, you have to save him. But you weren't worth it. You should save him. Weren't worth it. Save him. Weren't. Save. Worth. Him...

And so it continued, a tumult of pure crazy alive and animated in the unconscious mind of Lua Ward, who was currently thrashing about in an sleep induced stupor, undecipherable and sometimes loud murmurings escaping as her thoughts spun into overdrive. Needless to say this wasn't an uncommon occurrence, especially after a night out in town that'd involved a heck of a lot of shots and beer, and shots... and more beer if her memory would serve her correctly once she awakened. At least she wasn't sleepwalking though. Yet.

With the sun shining through the (broken) blinds in her bedroom, the brunette eventually shouted herself into consciousness, groaning painfully at the sudden rude awakening. She didn't need to open her eyes to feel the hammering behind them, or to know that the bright light of day was going to hurt. A lot. But even with a hangover like this, and even though she'd spent a lot of last night over the toilet bowl, she knew that it wasn't enough to stop her. It'd never be enough. There was nothing like the ecstasy of forgetting that alcohol provided for her or the numbing of her heart that the burning of her throat ensued. Her head ran through drink after drink, guy after guy and how alive she remembered feeling when her mind didn't feel like her own anymore. It was a dangerous want but a need that she refused to give up. It didn't matter how shitty she felt the morning after, or how dirty she realized that her life had become. She'd spent hours trying to scrub the feeling away in the shower before now, and had soon concluded that the only way to get rid of the unwanted effects of alcohol was, well, with more alcohol.

When Lua finally managed to drag herself away from her duvet, she realized quite quickly that today, movement just wasn't gonna do her much good and so flopped herself down onto her's and Bode's battered old sofa, snuggling further into an over-sized Smiths tee that she'd found in her bag a couple of years back. It was definitely one of the more welcome 'findings' of her life and something that she refused to part with, no matter how many holes it had growing in it. There weren't many things that Lua treasured much more than her that, her glasses or her banjo but as she took a while to look around the apartment, she realized that she possibly cared about more than she'd originally thought. On the walls hung music posters that her and Bode both shared an appreciation for, along with photography and scrappy pieces of art and photography that they'd found individually over the years, and bits and bobs that she herself had spent her time pondering over, like origami cranes and Polaroids. Despite having been forced from her original home, they'd made quite a go of it here, she reckoned, which was at least one positive, even if right now she couldn't find any others. Other than Bode himself of course, who'd been brilliant as far as she was concerned. One day she'd be in the pit of despair, the next riding a unicorn through fields of rainbows. Nobody could predict how, when, or why and even with all of that he'd never once hit back with a slap in the face or a stab in the back. Yet.

The compressing of time was looming over her as she grew purposefully closer to her new flatmate. Lua had always gotten on well with him, more so now that she was trying to use him as the means to an end, of course. In truth, to her, he was a good, decent guy. A mate. Even they were hard to come by nowadays. It didn't matter where he'd come from, just like she was sure he wasn't particularly bothered about her past either. They were all screw-ups here; problems came with the package deal. So then why did she insist on dragging him into what could potentially be just another step further towards ruin? She hadn't thought through what could happen if this all went wrong, or who else might be affected by what she was trying to do. All she could see, smell and breathe was him. He'd saved her and she needed saving again. Apparently she hadn't stopped to consider that he might not be the one for the job.

A loud, urgent knocking upon their front door was what eventually shook Lua from her thoughts, and realizing that she'd probably be the quickest to answer it, she grabbed her glasses from the side and lurched for the handle, opening it to reveal a balding man with a somewhat disgruntled persona. His cheeks were flushed and his glasses crooked, as though it'd taken him a lot just to get here.
"I want my records."
"I'm sorry?"
"The records. Last night. My shop next to The Nova?"
A silence followed from Lua, who tried and failed to recollect her memories. Fuck knows where she'd been after work, she couldn't remember. Bits hit her in fragmented waves, that guy that smelt of mints, vodka, bar-dancing, vodka, beer... vodka. Shit.
"I want my records," he demanded again, but as Lua went to reply he cut her off. "Don't even try to deny it, you stupid, stupid girl. I saw you with my own eyes. Quick as lightning you were, grabbing from the rarities nearest to you. They're worth a lot of money, s-so pay up or I'll be forced to take further action."
Shit, shit, shit and more shit. She couldn't remember what she'd done, or even if she still had his freaking records. Shit. Upon examination, the guy didn't look like he was up to much, but one phone call was all it'd take and she'd be in the shit. Shit.

[KaiyaFierce]

Sebastian stretched out on his black, leather sofa, a glass of orange juice in one hand and a handful of aspirin in the other. The sofa was one of the few items of furniture in the open-plan apartment, alongside an enormous glass coffee table, equally enormous bed and kitchen appliances that hadn’t been used once since he rented the place. No photos hung on walls or nick nacks on surfaces. Just glass and leather and the occasional worn paperback. It was soulless. With a lazy movement he slung the pills into his mouth an took a tentative sip of the juice, emitting a groan that wouldn’t have shamed a wild boar. Over his face a damp towel was draped, completing the picture of the fragile invalid. The noise of footsteps up the stairwell outside his apartment provoked movement in the young man, tentative movement, as he slid into a seated position. Removing the flannel from his face he thumped one lazy, still booted, foot after another onto the coffee table and picked up the newspaper that had been popped through his door not so long ago. Turning to the ‘About Town!’ section he read the large article with glee, a malevolent and satisfied smile creeping across his face. Maybe the ape had been a little over the top, but it had been such an important occasion after all. Hadn’t his father said as much?

The footsteps clanged louder now, hurried and urgent, their noise reverberating throughout the corridor. Sebastian leaned back into the sofa, taking a slow sip from his juice before quietly saying, ”Five...four...three...two...one...-”

”SEBASTIAN LOUIS MARCH GET YOUR ASS OUT HERE THIS SECOND BEFORE I BREAK DOWN THIS DOOR AND FEED YOU THE SPLINTERS.”

Seb smiled at that and making no effort to approach the door called, ”Oh really Pops, creating a public disturbance is hardly fitting for a man of your reputation-” Here he paused and looked down at the article laying in his lap ”-Or a man who used to have your reputation.” The next sentence that was bellowed from behind the door was too convoluted for Seb to quite grasp, though he was quite sure the words ‘arrogant’, ‘disgraceful’ and ‘brat’ came up. These descriptions were probably fair given Seb’s behaviour in recent years, all the drinking, the public faux pas after gala after charity event after police auction. Last night truly had been his pièce de résistance though. His father wouldn’t be able to show his face in good society for at least a few weeks. Possibly a few months. Good, Seb thought, his smile turning bitter and limp on his face That’ll teach the bastard.

”Sebastian. Let. Me. In. You made a laughing stock of me for the last time, kid. You’ve been a waste of space since that woman gave birth to you, even with all the opportunities laid at your feet. We need to have a talk about your future.” The voice growled through a few inches of faux wood.

How fucking rich. ’That woman’, ‘all the opportunities’...’future’? Seb hoped the sound of his contemptuous scoff could be heard on his father’s side of the door. Scum like Angus March were what high society was truly made of. The man who was meant to be protecting the law and morality and all that crap teachers feed you, was equal to any pimp or con man you’d find on the streets. Sure Seb had always been given nice things, he’d had enough things to last him a lifetime, to fill up the entire building let alone his apartment. When it came down to it things didn’t mean anything, they were just inanimate, cold lumps of matter. Sort of like his father’s heart. Though that would probably be being unfair on the things. No, Seb had given up most of the crap he’d been handed over the years, though he’d never say no to cash. Money bought booze, booze bought a one-way ticket to what Seb called the void. You don’t think clearly, or remember clearly, or feel clearly. Everything is numb. The void. Beautiful. The door rattled in its hinges and his furious father attempted to batter his way in, unfortunately (for Angus at least) the locks were stronger than the increasingly limp muscles of the 46 year old outside the door.

With a sigh Sebastian got to his feet, running a hand through his dishevelled hair and began slowly pacing his way towards the door, dragging out his father’s humiliation in the corridor for as long as possible. He was still dressed in what he was wearing the night before, an Armani black suit, white shirt and a thin black tie still knotted loosely around his neck. A prom-like corsage peeped out of his pocket, pink blossoms, to match his dates. His dates’, ha! Taking one last deep breath he began unlocking the door, sliding across deadbolts and removing chains. It may appear a little OTT, but a March doesn’t live anywhere without a little protection. The number of gang bosses and common criminals who’d like to get their hands on the Chief of Police’s son were numerous. As soon as the last latch was lifted the door slammed open, knocking Sebastian back a few steps and his father strode inside, kicking the door closed behind him. ”About fucking time”. Angus March spat, his face flushed red with anger and exertion, a trickle of sweat making its way down his cheek.

Seb turned away with a shake of his head, his stride was cocky and self-assured as he made his way back over to the sofa. ”You face me when I’m talking to you Sebastian” his father continued, following his son’s progress across the room ”You crossed one hell of a line last night.” Sebastian stopped where he was standing, his hands clenched into fists at his side, his skin white and taut as he fought the urge to lash out. After a few seconds his body relaxed, a forced smile returning to his face as he turned to face Angus. ”I don’t know what you mean, father. I did just as you asked of me. I turned up in a suit, with an appropriate girlfriend, and I spoke to plenty of people.”

Angus March seemed lost for words for a second, staring at the young man before him. They’d been close, once, or if not close they’d at least been on the same side. The March men sticking together and all that. Now when he looked at his son he felt nothing but disgust, not even the slightest twinge of paternal affection lurked in his heart. ”Date? You turned up to the NYPD Gala, with an orangutan. An orangutan in a red dress, and a fucking corsage.” The words sounded ridiculous to Angus even as they escaped his lips, like something out of a Roald Dahl novel. Sebastian let out a bark of laughter, though his eyes remained cold and joyless, ”What, can’t you take a joke, oh father of mine?” Angus flinched in reaction to the words, his lips thinning into one compressed line, his jaw clenched so hard that his next words were little more than a growl ”It had a police badge attached to it. You introduced it as one of my old girlfriends. You told the Goldmanns that you’d picked her up on a street corner and she’d been just begging to reunite with one of her old flames. Do you have any idea what you’ve done to my reputation?”

Seb experienced a momentary flicker of doubt as he watched the man before him, his father’s shoulders hunched in anguish, a hand already aged with thick veins and papery skin, pressed to his forehead. Had he gone over the top? And then he clocked the bright crimson lipstick smeared on the man’s collar. Seb’s mother never wore that shade of lipsticks, she called it ‘whore’s red’. What was it, 9 am? And already Angus had managed to meet one of his women. Might have come straight from their house. Had he even gone home last night? Or had Loreli been sent back ahead with promises her husband would follow soon after, had spent the hours until dawn hunched in a dressing gown on the stool in the foyer? A bottle of scotch in one hand an a cigarette in the other as she waited, as she always did, for her husband to come back home? Probably. Seb had seen it countless times after all. So many times that the smell of tobacco and the twang of scotch always brought forth a feeling of such overwhelming anguish that he avoided the drink all together if he could.

”You’re right, it was ridiculous-” Seb said softly, stepping closer to his father ”That orangutan was far classier than the bitches you usually go to bed with. If a bed is available that is, I’m sure they’re just at home in the back of any NY alley.” The next thing he knew his father’s fist slammed into his cheek, sending him sprawling to the floor, his thoughts for the next few seconds deadened by the fireworks of pain shooting through his skull. When everything finally stopped spinning he looked up to see his father standing over him, lips curled back in a sneer: ”You’ve forgotten, Sebastian, that I own you. I own your apartment, I own your bank accounts, I own that suit on your back. I think until you remember that fact, and give me the respect I deserve you should make yourself scarce for awhile. You can keep the clothes on your back and whatever money you have in your wallet, but that’s it. Expect no keys, no card, no bar tab to work. Now get up and get the fuck out of that door. Don’t come back until you’re ready to grovel/i], you got that? As far as I’m concerned I have no son.”

Sebastian staggered to his feet, fighting off his growing headache and the nausea that came with it. Already he could feel his cheek swelling, the black-blue bruise that would be spreading across it. He considered saying goodbye, so long, fuck you adieu, or [i]something. But no words came when he opened his mouth and after a few seconds he opened the door and made his way down the corridor, his back ramrod straight and his chin raised. It was only until he entered the stairwell that his legs gave out a little below him and he had to grasp on the banister to stay upright. He pressed a hand to his chest, feeling his heart pounding beneath his fingers and took a few breaths. What was that feeling? Relief. He felt relief to be out of that cage. To no longer owe his father anything, to have to act in a certain way or be a certain person. The questioned remained, however, as to how he was going to live from now on. He was no idiot, he realised that he’d never had to hold down a job or pay his way or even do his own laundry. ”That’s fine,” he said quietly, his voice reassuring his mind ”Anything has to be better than this.”

***

Sebastian stood outside the crummy flats before him, his pair of sunglasses pushed back onto his forehead as he surveyed the building with blank features. The man before him, a Guatemalan called Nico, as greasy a man as you’d ever hope to come across, shuffled nervously. ”I swear, this is the best you’re going to get for your dough. I swear it. It’s a nice building, quiet, cosy, it’s got uh, character” Though Seb’s expression didn’t change he felt a flicker of inner amusement at those words. How was it even a guy like this, somebody he’d run into in a dive nearby, a gold medallion round his neck and chest hair poking out of the top of a fake-silk purple shirt - even this guy somehow and picked up real estate chatter. Cosy with character, my ass, Seb thought. The place was a dump. It was a cheap dump though, and given the fact that he had less than two hundred dollars left after the liquid breakfast he’d had in every bar from his apartment to here, he probably couldn’t afford to be picky. The effects of the alcohol and worn or somewhat in the walk (walk!) over, and now he was just left feeling slightly ill, his head still thumping from earlier. What did it matter where he lived anyway? All he needed was a room to drag himself back to after a night out anyway. ”Yeah, okay. It’s fine, I’ll take a room.” he rasped, his throat bizarrely dry, as he withdrew his wallet and withdrew a few bills from within that he handed over to Nico. The man, satisfied that his new strangely well dressed tenant seemed good for at least the next few week’s rent, pressed a sticky key into Sebastian’s palm in return. No references needed. Cash spoke volumes and all that.

”Okay well, that takes care of everything I guess, compadre, the apartment number is on the key and I’ll be going” Nico said, his mouth wide in a cheesy grin that didn’t quite hide how uncomfortable he was dealing with the quiet, morbid young man. Nico headed off along the sidewalk, before turning and calling ”Oh by the way - you’ll have to share your apartment, that’s cool right? Adios! With that he was gone, mixing into the noon crowds, little more than a flash of violent purple. Sebastian swore quietly under his breath, a roommate was hardly something in the market for. He lent against the front of the building, jumping as he felt a vibration in his pocket. Pulling out his phone his eyebrows rose in surprise as he registered the text. It was from somebody he knew, a fellow child of high society. Turns out he wasn’t the only one booted from the familial nest this morning. He’d thought his father cutting ties with him had been a spur of the moment thing but maybe not, maybe the old bastard had been planning it. Who knows for how long. He thought for a second, feeling the cement beneath his fingertips and surveying the neighbourhood. It really wasn’t too awful. I mean, it was cheap right? And that was important. It was probably best for those in the same boat to stick together too. He quickly typed out a reply, explaining his situation and the apartment he’d found. How there was another few rooms vacant too. Send.

He considered going inside but after one glimpse at the dank hall inside he decided to put it off a little while longer. He slid down to the ground, back pressed to the building behind him and his head in his hands. It was going to be a long day.

[wednesdaysun]

The hidden area out back was filled with smoke. He couldn't see a thing, or at least he thought he couldn't. Maybe he'd stayed here too long; it was time to leave. Bode sat on the cold concrete steps with Jonesy, a cashier who'd just gotten off from his shift. He butted the burnt roach onto the ground next to his feet and flicked it into the bin. "Score," Jonesy nodded, watching as the tiny thing slipped and tumbled into the tiny crevices of refuse. "Hey, you up for another one?" "Nah. Hungover roommate." "Suit yourself." As his scruffy, light-haired compadre got up to leave him in the back alley, Bode grabbed the back of his crummy-looking cashier's jacket. "Stash." "You're not fucking mooching my stash again. Fucking third time this week. You know how it's getting hard to come by, what with the dealer being a fucking miser with his." "Alright, alright, chill, Jonesy-boy." He didn't respond; he only left the dark-haired lad out back to his own devices. Soon enough, Bode got up and walked the ten or eleven feet to his walk-up.

The taste of the smoke still lingered in his mouth as he took step by step by slow step up to the apartment he shared with -- "I want my records." "What is this, the Guinness book?" he called out to the bald geezer. Bode slowly turned his head to Lua -- there you go, that was her name -- and shook his head at her as she stood there, obviously scared shitless at the prospect of further action, if you caught his drift. "Slow down, four-eyes. Take it smooth. You'll get the shit and leave, no complications, no side transactions, or whatever the fuck that is. Hold on -- Lua, what the fuck did you do? Fleetwood Mac? Joy Divison? David Bow-You know our stash, I know our stash, that isn't even in the set--," he hissed quickly enough. "Just wait here," he told the geezer with the glasses with squinted eyes, his body moving forward and his head seemingly trailing behind as if it were the heaviest thing in the world. Carelessly sifting through the mess in their couch-slash-tv-slash-wardrobe room, he found two sights for sore eyes. Delicately, he took the four or so records and handed it curtly to the man. "There. Happy?" he grunted. Immediately, his face brightened, almost as if his face were some plastic Ken-doll or something. "Have a nice day! Now get the fuck out." The pièce de résistance, a grand slam in the face, and yellowing wood right were the openness of the front door was.

"Congratulations, ding-ding-ding!" he laughed out loud, and surprisingly enough without the former annoyance it held as he confronted her about the stolen vinyls. "Good morning, sunshine. Have a good time last night?" He immediately went along his own business, trying to clean up. And failing miserably. Smacking his head by the door of his bedroom as he went in, he mused his own stupidity as he entered, changing his clothes.

Lua Ward. Where could he begin? More than a pretty face, that's for sure.
This girl had definitely grown on him like moss on a wet rock. It was hard for him to get rid of the impression that her face gave him. And it scared him how smashed she could get, and how she behaved while in that state. It was a source of continual amusement. He'd really come to tolerate this. Usually, he wouldn't have taken it, especially seeing how unbecoming of a girl her inebriated behavior was.

He was sure she'd passed several toilets. Maybe an abandoned alley or two. Marked her territory with regurgitated acid. He made both their beds. Found that missing wallet with the hundred grand he'd made from selling a few grams of grass. Hoorah.

"Takeout for breakfast then, Lu?" he called out from the bedroom, lying on his back and staring at the ceiling. "I dunno. Chinese. Seems easy enough to digest. There isn't any shit in the refrigerator, anyway."

[RaeRaeButterfly]

I'm feeling sexy and free, Like glitter's raining on me - You like a shot of pure gold, I think I'm 'bout to explode

It was not that song, pounding out of her ipod dock that woke her up. It was the rough hand that slammed down onto the off button. "For fuck's sake, Hailes. I thought you turned the bloody thing off last night." Hailey's eyes flew open and she squinted, barely taking in the sight of the tall male, scrambling off her bed and pulling his jeans over his boxers. "Where are you going?" Hailey pouted. "Work, I need to up my supply." He grabbed his t-shirt, glanced down at the barely dressed Hailey and shrugged, swinging open her bedroom door, and disappearing down the staircase. "Get me some too." Hailey's voice disappeared after him. "Whatever." He yelled back. "Fuck you." She hissed, before collapsing back onto her bed, staring at the ceiling. She waited untill she heard the front door slam, before pulling herself out of bed, throwing the sheet she had wrapped around herself back onto the bed. Pulling her black skinny jeans and her red tight tanktop, she headed down the spiral stairs. Not that she got very fair.

"I thought we had figured this out. But then I'm sitting down at breakfast with a cup of coffee, and he comes storming past to the front door? Are you insane, Hailey?" Dana Annette Murdoch stepped onto the stair next to Hailey, eying her daughter."You said, no drinking." Hailey shrugged, innocently. "For god's sake, Hailey.I said more then that and you know it. Dana's voice rose and Hailey was starting to get annoyed. "I'm sorry, mom." She spoke softly, swaying back and forth on the balls of her feet. This tactic always worked when she was little, but Dana was starting to see through her daughter. "Back to your room, now." Dana stared down at her daughter. "No way!" Hailey almost laughed, continuing down the stairs. "Now Hailey." Her mother hissed. Hailey continued down the stairs, rather hurriedly. She made it to the kitchen, when her mother caught up behind her, her heels clicking on the shiny tiles. Dana stopped her, when Hailey had just grabbed her coffee mug. "You know what I tolerate and what I dont tolerate in this house. And right now, I'm not tolerating you." Dana growled. Hailey rolled her eyes, moving her coffee mug towards the coffee machine. But she was not prepared for what came next. Her mother, grabbed her mug and threw it at the ground. And it shattered everywhere. Hailey stumbled backwards, her eyes wide and she gasped as her back hit the counter. "I want you out. Now." Dana hissed. "You've had this coming for a while and this morning was the last straw. Out." Dana pushed Hailey towards the door.

Hailey didn't know what to say. But as her mother pushed her, Hailey made a grab at her phone and purse, sucessfully grabbing them and stuffing them into her jeans pocket. "I don't want to see you again, untill your ready to make a difference in your behaviour." Hailey's eyes narrowed at her mothers words. She barely had enough time to grab a pair of shoes from the front door, before her mother had slammed the door in her face. Hailey plopped herself down on the doorstep, her brow furrowed. It wouldn't last. Surely,her mother would miss her and let her come back..right? Hailey sighed, forcing her manciured feet into the wedge heels she had managed to pick up. It wasn't untill she had started down the street that she realised her mother was actually being serious. Hailey whipped out her phone, sending a quick text to Sebastian. She shoved the phone back into her pocket and continued down the street. Not that she knew where she was going.

She was suprised that Sebastian wasn't asleep and she whipped out her phone once again, her eyes scrolling down the text message. Oh great. Not bothering to reply, she turned her phone off,sliding it into her pocket. She headed to where Sebastian had said he was, her wedge heels squeaking slightly on the ground. It didn't take Hailey long to find him, but when she did, she was a little grossed out about the state of the apartments behind him. Oh well, a house was a house. She'd live. At least it would be sort of better then sleeping in the streets. "Seb." Hailey spoke, leaning against the wall, the one word as a sort of a greeting towards him. "Got a headache?"