#the richer the neighbourhood the worst are the owners

[refugeed-kim]

YES YES I NEED THIS SIGN IN EVERY SINGLE PARK PLEASE

This is my daily struggle, I had so many arguments with people with off-leash dogs (in a mandatory leash area!!!). Thanks to this behavior I'm struggling with Kim being anxious/aggressive with other females as she often gets involved in unpleased interactions with free females while on leash. And every single time that I ask for the dog to be at least recalled, I'm being called names and insulted of course.

Also 9 out of 10 their dog isn't really that friendly at all.

#dogblr #dog #dog training #petblr #the most unpleasant part of owning a dog is having to deal with awful dog owners... #the richer the neighbourhood the worst are the owners #but of course the only park that isn't a hour-long drive from home it's full of this kind of people #I want to live in a city where there is enough space to actually walk without meeting anyone if we don't feel like it

[somecrazylads-a-blog]

Taemin!! 10, 15👀, 28, 39, 57, 59, 69, 74, 78, 94, 97, 100

— 100 random character development questions | @busanbunnie

---

Hana’s HUSBAND, coming thru-

-. Taemin/Papillon

10. Do you believe in love at first sight?No, he doesn’t. Before meeting Hana, he didn’t believe in love at all, but even now, he can’t say the ‘love at first sight’ concept sounds really sound to him. He believes that the only thing you can gauge from a person at ‘first sight’ is their looks and maybe what kind of person they are upon first encounters, but he doesn’t think there’s really enough there in a ‘first sight’ to make the heart grow fond to such an extent.

15. Are they most likely to fight with their fists or their tongue?Taemin usually tries to stay away from conflict, either by defusing it right away or by walking away. But in the instances there seems to be no way out or he’s too angered to walk away, he definitely goes for ‘tongue’ over ‘fists’: he’s not a fighter, he doesn’t condone violence for whatever reason, and doesn’t have either the experience nor the technique to really fight his way out of an argument anyway. On the other hand, he has a lot of experience verbally standing his ground, getting out of situations, or getting others to back off. So, tongue it is.

28. What makes them laugh out loud?Well, for one, Taemin is more likely amused by visual comedy than a good pun. He likes it when he can see the punchline and when the joke is delivered without the need for a line of dialogue from someone to deliver it. So, that’s more or less his preferred comedy. As for his sense of humour, it varies of course.And one thing that definitely makes Taemin laugh out loud is Hana when she has Pouting moments that are just too adorable for him to resist.

39. What do they think is the worst thing that can be done to a person?Rob them of all sense of dignity while they’re unaware of it. This can both go through physical as mental means, but he thinks being robbed of all dignity without even having been given the luxury to at least know it’s happening, it’s the absolute worst. I would also go into details about physical things with, of course, mental repercussions, but that would mean walking into a very sensitive topic, which I should probably avoid speaking of too lightly.

57. Has your character ever killed anyone?Absolutely not! He’s never been forced into a situation where means of self-defence would need to be applied and/or then lead to someone’s demise, on top of that he’s also extremely against using violence for any reason whatsoever, so really. There is no blood on his hands.

59. List several phrases your character is fond of uttering. Where did they pick them up? “That’s absolutely none of your business.” - Taemin does neither like to be involved in other people’s business nor does he want anyone in his own. He’s a private person, used from a young age to be alone and have to fend for himself, so anyone butting in now (this, before Hana and Minhwan too) would just make him think ‘now I don’t need it anymore. It generated from that.“Well, you gotta do what you gotta do, to survive.” - Taemin doesn’t have a real slang to speak of, he doesn’t speak any dialects and has dropped whatever accent he might have had, but this one, the way he says it, is characterised by the slang of the people who live in the neighbourhood he used to live in when he was a child: he picked it up from homeless people sitting on pavements, a prostitute he often spoke to, even store owners. And he feels the sentence every time he says it, he used to live by it, before Hana, resigned to it even.“When life gives you lemons...” - This is picked up from pop culture, to be honest, but it’s always uttered sarcastically in moments where troubles seem to arrive at his door all at the same time.“I mind my own business and that’s how I like it.” - Tying back to the first one, this is something he started saying at a very young age, with quite a superior air to it to the point where adults who’d hear him oh so proudly declare that would usually ruffle his hair or laugh at him, but he still mumbles it to himself sometimes when being asked for his opinion on conflicts too close for him to state anything in regards to. He still says it with an almost child-like nature to it.“Well, what else did you expect from an escort? A halo? A choir of angels?” - This is directly pulled from his hidden real opinion on his lifestyle (prior to Hana, since he’s now dropping most of the physical part of the job and/or starting as Minhwan’s mentee), and he’d often say it to clients when they’d react with any kind of surprise in relations to anything he might say or do for his job. He also used to excuse/justify some of his past behaviour with this line.

69. What about your character is heroic?He’s brave, diligent. He always works hard, even if he hates the work he does. He never goes back on his word and he is both trustworthy and reliable, in and outside of his job. They don’t come out often, but he has hidden leader qualities that he never got to exhibit. And he never gives up. Never.

74. What is your character’s favourite game?Now, you know, prior to Hana he didn’t know about video games at all beyond ads in TV or posters hanging somewhere. He never played them before, he never cared to figure out what they were. But if he had to pick one now that Hana has taugh him some, well... I would say, he finds particular enjoyment in any game from the Zelda franchise. Don’t ask me why. Chances are, he’s just wild to beat a Crash Bandicoot.

78. How emotionally stable is your character?Now, much more than he was before.He used to swallow his emotions, keep them away, all his self-doubts and self-loathing and insecurities, he’d all wrap them under the ‘Taemin’ label, and hide them away, because before meeting Hana, he had to be Papillon much more than he wanted to be Taemin. So it’s kind of like... him trying to become the Papillon persona more and more, frivolous, elegant, cocky, confident with who he is and what he wants, because it was easier than looking at Taemin and seeing everything his childhood had made of him and how much pain he still had to work through.But now, thanks to Hana, he’s learnt how to look at everything he is and everything he feels and acknowledge it. It’s still hard, and there are plenty of vaults he hasn’t opened yet, but he now at least acknowledges their existence and allows himself weaknesses and mistakes that Papillon never would have.

94. Name three things most would not expect your character to be able to know.First up, cooking. He might as well be considered a chef now- well, I don’t want to exaggerate, but his kitchen is almost his sanctum sanctorum, he has a recipe book he himself put together, a combination of recipes he knew, recipes he modified, and even recipes of him throwing together things and liking the result. He’s truly passionate and truly skilled.Second, driving. He doesn’t have a driver’s license (yet), but in the neighbourhood he grew up in, he had some opportunities to get behind a wheel and get impromptu driving lessons from the prostitute who had almost, kind of, not really, maybe taking him under his wing.Third, climbing. He was a pick-pocketer, a near-homeless child, his best friend was a prostitute ten years older than him, and the occasional stray dog he’d pet on his walk through the neighbourhood. Often, he would pick-pocket the wrong people, shop-lift from the wrong store, pet the wrong dog, and get dragged into a cliché chase scene he could often get away from through climbing into the next open second or third story window he’d find... hoping no one else was in there, of course.

97. How well do they adapt to change?Fairly well, but it depends entirely on the change. He’s good at dealing with sudden inconveniences, settling for less, or having to get by with less of what he’d need (no matter the situation). But he’s not so good at getting used to new environments he has to stay in (forever or for a while). He was homeless for quite a while and usually just camped out in abandoned apartments or the occasional living room. He always feels uncomfortable staying in places that are richer than that. Even now, with his own apartment being more than decent, he still doesn’t feel comfortable staying anywhere ‘common’ people are: he always feels out of place. He does adapt well, though, he just gets stressed about it.

100. Does your character dream? If so, what do they dream about?He does dream, but not very often. When he does dream, it’s usually an abstract representation of current worries or wishes, only rarely does he dream about memories. He can avoid nightmares that way.He definitely dreams about Hana

#busanbunnie #the butterfly;busanbunnie #i haven't written the word 'papillon' for tae in AGES #and all THANKS TO HANA #I'M SO BLESSSSED #THIS WAS SO MUCH HECKING FUNNNNNNNN #thank you so much :3 #I HOPE I DIDN'T MISS ONE #a:

[seriestrash]

The Foundation of Doing Good

❄ Day Seven ❄

A/N: Complete AU. In this version of reality Lucas and Zay moved to NYC after college. Zay and Riley kind of know each other but not really!! The two Texan’s are separate to the other four friends (as in strangers). Also for the purpose of this story pretend that Riley was the only one with a relationship with Ms. Rand. Nothing against Maya at all but for the purpose of this one shot Riley was the only ‘Dolly’ in Evelyn’s life! (Crazy hat lady).

Summary: Riley Matthews feels immense pressure to do good with her good fortune. Lucas Friar sees how one stranger who does good for the world needs good done for herself. 

Word Count: 7993

❄ ❄ ❄ ❄ ❄ ❄ ❄

At the young age of twenty-one, Riley Matthews’ entire world changed. It was only a month after her birthday that she learnt she was willed a multimillion dollar fortune along with a company worth twice as much.    

It was like winning the lottery in the worst way possible, for Riley’s great fortune came in the wake of a terrible misfortune. It all happened when Riley lost a dear friend, Evelyn Rand. 

Evelyn Rand - or formally known as the crazy hat lady - was one of the richest women in New York - or rather the whole of the United States - but before Riley knew this, she believed the eccentric woman to be poor. Once Riley got to know the woman a little better, their brief pleasantries in passing at the subway station turned into meaningful and regular chats. Riley began to learn more about this woman and her life and as time went on Riley formed a strong bond with Ms. Rand. 

Evelyn watched Riley grow from an idealistic pre-teen into a respectful and kind ivy league college student. Since Riley attended Columbia University it wasn’t hard at all for her to keep in touch with Evelyn before she passed, in fact, the two regularly met up for coffee. 

One week during Riley’s sophomore year of college she sat at the quaint coffee house that had become ‘their spot’ and she waited for the woman. An hour passed and Evelyn still hadn’t shown. Riley grew increasingly worried and tried phoning the woman numerous times. After all the calls were unanswered Riley went over to Evelyn’s building and tried to get information from the front desk. The receptionist on hand was being tight-lipped but then Ms. Rand’s personal assistant spotted Riley and filled her in on the news. Riley learnt that Evelyn had collapsed after arriving at her company earlier that day and was rushed to hospital. In a panic Riley hurried over to the hospital in which the assistant said Ms. Rand was being treated at. 

After finally being allowed to see Evelyn, Riley learnt the tragic news; Ms. Rand had an inoperable brain tumour that would inevitably end her life.

Riley was surprised that she was more upset by the news than the patient herself. Ms. Rand just wiped the tear off Riley’s cheek and told her ‘little Dolly’ that this was just what the universe had planned for her. A calmness Riley is still yet to fully understand.

In the months leading up to Evelyn’s passing she underwent treatment to try prolong the little time she had left and Riley was right by her side during every session. Riley knew Ms. Rand had no family and little friends outside of work and Riley couldn’t bear the thought of someone she cared about going through this alone. She even skipped some of her classes to be with her friend. 

Even Riley’s 21st birthday wouldn’t make her miss a session. Maya had planned a big day of things for them but Riley opted to hang with Evelyn instead. Even though the older woman insisted Riley take the day to celebrate her youth she still showed up right by her bedside to read stories to Evelyn as she drifted in and out of sleep.

That was the day that Evelyn decided to leave everything to Riley. As a girl gave up her twenty first birthday to sit in a hospital whilst a sick woman slept. A month later she was gone and Riley became considerably richer. 

Now at twenty-five, Riley has spent years dedicating her life to making good things come from the fortune Evelyn left her. Riley had no idea how to run a company so she employed people to take care of the empire Evelyn began as a young woman and she used the personal funds to start a charity organisation called the ‘Do Good Foundation’ where it does just that.

❄

Today on one of the last days of school before winter break for most kids across the city, Riley prepares to read a children’s book she wrote to a kindergarten class in a lower income neighbourhood, a book she wrote where all proceeds went towards giving education to children in third world countries. 

This particular school Riley is at today is one she’s been contributing to for a year now. Financially and with hands on help. Riley first became involved in this school after talking to an acquaintance of hers, Zay. Zay’s fiancé Vanessa Kimble is the kindergarten teacher. Riley knew Zay as she had invested in his dance studio which helps struggling youth stay focused and off the streets. One of the many charitable causes Riley has stumbled across and helped keep running over the years. 

It’s the end of year party for the youngsters and numerous parents have volunteered their time to make the day special.

Riley is re-introduced to the class of bubbly youngsters by Vanessa as Miss Matthews. After Riley finishes the children's book she wrote about discovering your own uniqueness, told through the adventures of two feline friends, Vanessa gets the class to thank Riley for her time with a round of applause. 

Riley stands off to the side, her book still in hand as she watches Vanessa address the class again. The pretty and kind teacher checks her watch and announces that there isn't much time left. Riley could tell something was bothering her. Then, a man comes bursting through the door of the class with a small puppy in hand. He’s apologising for being late and the young children grow increasingly more excited about his fury companion. 

“Sorry! I got here as fast as I could, my shift ran late.” He whispers to Vanessa. She gives him a stern look but then addresses her class with a wide grin. 

“Class this is Dr. Friar, he’s a veterinarian and he’s brought a special friend for you all to meet today.” 

Riley wears a small smile as she watches the evidently puffed stranger address the class, his small dog panting with a poked out tongue. The students all lean closer with excitement. The handsome vet meets Riley’s stare for a second and they exchange small smiles before he turns his attention back to the children. 

Riley takes a quick moment to thank Vanessa for having her in today but explains that she best be off. 

The brunette makes her way to the subway station closet to the school. Instead of getting in a cart she takes a moment to sit on one of the benches on the platform. Riley knew she was due back at her apartment to get ready for this special event she has tonight but part of her didn’t feel like moving at all. Part of her never felt like moving again, for Riley had spend the better part of these four years feeling absolutely lost.

With a heavy feeling weighing her down Riley sits and watches the commuters as they busily come and go. Riley is brought back into reality when a yapping puppy approaches her. 

“Sorry.” The man holding the leash picks up the dog. “She gets really excited on walks.” 

“That’s alright.” Riley lifts her gaze up from the puppy to her owner and recognition crosses both their faces. 

“Hey, weren’t you at the school before?” The vet questions. 

“Yeah, I’m Riley.” She introduces herself with a smile. “You’re the veterinarian. Are you one of the children's parents?” 

“No!” He answers a little too quickly and it elicits a laugh from the brunette. “I mean, no. I came as a favour for Vanessa- Uh, Miss Kimble.” He corrects himself. “I’m Lucas.” 

Riley nods lightly. “Nice to meet you.” 

“Are you?... A parent that is?” Lucas asks with a nervous chuckle. 

“No.” Riley shakes her head. “Just a volunteer.” She pats the children book in her lap. 

“You read that?” Lucas asks with a smile. 

“I kinda wrote it.” Riley admits and she leans forward to pat the puppy Lucas holds.

“You did?” Lucas is cutely impressed. 

Riley grows nervous. “So you know Vanessa?” 

“Yeah, we went to high school together back in Texas.” Lucas explains.

“So you know Zay too?” Riley questions without thinking. 

“Yeah he’s my best friend, I’m going to be his best man at their wedding in a few months...” Lucas crinkles his brows. “You know Zay?”

Riley shifts nervously in her seat. “Sort of.. I’d use the term acquaintance loosely... I’ve dealt with him through work...”

“Work?” Lucas asks. “...Do you mind?” Lucas points to the space beside her on the bench. “Please.” Riley shuffles across to free up more space for him. 

Lucas takes a seat, with the puppy sitting well behaved on his lap. Riley resumes the light neck scratching and Lucas continues, “Since I haven't seen you in the catering business you must know Zay through his dance studio?”

“Catering?” Riley knits her brows.

“We’re bus boys.” Lucas admits and it makes him feel awfully lame. 

“I thought you were a veterinarian, Dr. Friar?” Riley eyes the embroidered name on his blue coat. Even though she was curious, Riley was more so trying to change the subject of how she knew Zay.  

“I am a qualified veterinarian but I’m an underpaid lab assistant.” Lucas rubs at the nape of his neck. “I have to work three jobs just to pay the rent for my cruddy apartment.”

“New York City is a killer.” Riley looks down as she says that.

“Tell me about it.” Lucas laughs. “The clinic I work at is so over priced just to keep up with the cost of the lease. I feel like we turn away more animals than we actually save.”

This makes Riley frown.

“Oh don’t worry.” Lucas tries to make her feel better, “I treat strays in secret sometimes.” Lucas motions to the puppy Riley’s been patting this whole time. 

“Really?” Riley gives him a dubious stare.

“Scouts honour.” Lucas says. “Given it’s not that well kept a secret because my boss docks my pay for it but I help where I can.”

Riley believes Lucas to be genuine so she curls her mouth into a small smile as she turns back to the pup. “She’s a stray?”

“Yes Ma’am.” Lucas nods. 

“Well what happens after you treat them?” Riley questions. 

Lucas lets out a nervous chuckle. “I help find families to adopt them...So how do you know Zay again?” he changes the subject back before it gets too depressing. 

“Oh right.” Riley chews her lip, she unsuccessfully avoided the topic. “I uh- I work for the company that helps fund Zay’s dance program.. A real lower tier job... I just toured the studio once on behalf of my boss.”

“You work for a charity?” Lucas asks.

Riley bops her head and avoids his gaze.

“That’s really cool.” Lucas grins genuinely. 

Riley just shrugs a shoulder.

“I know we just met but it seems like something is bothering you...” Lucas treads lightly. “Is everything alright?”

Riley studies Lucas’ face for a moment and eventually asks, “Have you ever seen that movie Pay it Forward?”

“The one where the boy does something good for someone then that someone does something good for someone else and so on?” Lucas raises a brow.

Riley nods. “Do you think something like that could really work?”

Lucas sucks in a breath and holds it for a second, that question felt very loaded, after a moment of thought he releases his breath, “In theory I guess, sure.” He nods.

“In theory...” Riley mumbles more to herself than to Lucas. The Texan could tell she was disappointed with his response.

“I like to believe that kindness inspires kindness.” Lucas tries again. He did genuinely believe that but sometimes it’s hard to remember that with the way the world is. 

Riley smiles to herself. “People change people.” 

“Exactly.” Lucas nods. “I’d hope that the world could change because of one good deed.” 

“But you don’t believe it?” Riley asks quietly. 

“Do you?” Lucas questions not knowing how else to answer. 

Riley turns her gaze forward again. She’s quiet for a second but then she snaps her gaze back to Lucas with a purpose, although her movement was brash her voice remains soft, with a pureness to it that Lucas couldn’t help but find endearing. “If you had all the money in the world what would you do with it?” Riley asks. 

“Why do I feel like this is a test?” Lucas lets out a nervous laugh. 

“It’s just a question.” Riley grows even more sheepish. 

“Um,” Lucas lets out a breath as he thinks. “Selfish or unselfish answer?”

“Whatever the truth is.” Riley says. 

“I think I’d take care of my family and closest friends...” Lucas begins. 

Riley nods. Her first thought was to take care of the ones she loved too and she had. 

He continues, “...Then...World Peace.” Lucas wears a cheesy smile. 

Riley rolls her eyes but she has a hint of a smile. “You can’t buy world peace.” 

“Why not?” Lucas frowns but he’s smiling too. “I have all the money in the world.” 

“Money can’t save the world.” Riley holds his gaze and all lighthearted silliness had left her. The expression she wore brought Lucas down a peg. 

“Wow.” Lucas can’t help but let out a nervous chuckle. “That’s pretty dark for a girl who wrote a story about a purple cat.” He motions to her book. 

“Sorry.” She shakes her head.

Lucas clears his throat and tries a more vulnerable answer. “I don’t need all the money in the world but I’d at least like to have enough for my own animal clinic, at least that way I could feel like I was actually helping animals rather than hurting them.” 

“That’s what you’d do?” 

Lucas nods. “I’ve thought about moving back to Texas after Zay and Vanessa get married. That way I could save up enough money for my own clinic, start helping animals, get back to the reason why I wanted to become a veterinarian in the first place.” 

“That’s a nice answer.” Riley says softly. 

“Thanks.” Lucas smiles. “What about you, if you had all the money in the world what would you do with it?” 

“If I ever figure out my answer I’ll let you know.” Riley lowers her gaze again. 

Then the puppy yaps in impatiently. 

“I have to get this little girl back to the clinic.” Lucas announces, “But if we’re going the same way maybe we could grab a coffee or hot chocolate.. I have to work tonight but I have like twenty-three spare minutes so if we hurry-” 

“I can’t.” Riley jumps in. “I have a thing I’m supposed get ready for.” 

“A.. date thing?” Lucas asks sheepishly. 

“No.” Riley is sheepish too as she shakes her head. “A work thing- I guess.” 

“Okay... Well I know it’s the holidays and all but if you have a free night- or day- maybe we could get a coffee or hot chocolate or some sort of beverage-” 

“Lucas, that’s really sweet but I can’t.” Riley gives him an apologetic smile. “I just don’t think I’m in the right headspace to date..” 

“Yeah, no, or nothing works for me too.” He laughs it off and Riley smiles. 

“Well the subway cart has passed about four times since we’ve been sitting here, maybe we should get on it.” Lucas points a thumb towards the track. 

“I think I might just sit here a little while longer.” Riley shifts in place. “Watch the people.” 

Lucas knits his brows in confusion as he stands up for the train. “Watch people?” 

“Just something I used to do with a friend.” Riley’s smile is small. “Merry Christmas, Lucas and to you little pup. Find her a good family, okay?” 

Lucas’ confused but more so intrigued expression remains as he takes a backwards step towards the subway cart. “I will... Merry Christmas to you too, Riley.” 

❄ ❄

Later that evening Riley is dressed in the prettiest thing she’s ever worn. A gown, blue in colour with decorative floral embroidery all over. A dress so incredibly detailed yet completely dainty looking at the same time.

A pic bc it’s so pretty and would look so pretty on Row/Riley

Her hair is curled and pinned to perfection and her makeup, although subtle, beautifully highlights her facial features. 

Riley’s very modest one bedroom apartment felt crowded with all the makeup and hair tools sprawled across the living space. Riley sits on the sofa all glamed up, trying to keep herself from getting overheated with stress. Even in the cold December month, Riley still managed to feel overwhelmed at a time like this. 

Maya sits to Riley’s left and Smackle to her right. Both women questioning their friend about her upcoming evening. 

“Are you sure you didn’t want a date for tonight?” Maya questions. 

“No. No date.” Riley states firmly.

“I don’t understand why you don’t want any of us there, this is such a huge deal for you, Riley.” Maya says. 

“No. I just want to get this over and done with.” Riley shakes her head. “I don’t need anyone there.” 

“Are you certain?” Smackle questions. “I’m sure Farkle would accompany you.” 

“Farkle hates fancy events even more than I do.” Riley coaxes her head. 

“Take Auggie then, the not so little man looks cute in a tux.” Maya grins. 

“No, I’m going alone okay?” Riley huffs. 

“Fine.” Maya says like a wounded puppy. “But I’m staying here and watching Christmas movies on your television and eating your food whilst you’re out.” 

“Make that the both of us.” Isadora says happily. 

Riley cracks a smiles. “I wish I was staying to do just that with you both.” 

“Sadly you can’t because you’re being wined and dined tonight.” Maya says in a posh tone. “Go on, your car should be downstairs. You don’t want to be late.” 

“My car?” Riley frowns. “Maya I was just going to t-”

“Take the subway, I know.” Maya groans. “You can’t take the subway dressed like that.” 

Riley sighs and admits defeat. She exits her apartment after a taking a deep breath. Here we go, the thinks to herself. 

Once alone with Smackle in Riley’s apartment, Maya lets out a heavy sigh. “I really miss Riley.” 

“She only left five seconds ago.” Smackle knits her brows. 

“I mean the old Riley.” Maya says. “Once she got rich, she got sad...” 

❄ ❄

Lucas arrived at his bus boy job not long after he dropped the puppy back off at the clinic he assists at. As per usual Lucas is running late so he bursts through the staff doors of the venue they’re working at that night still securing his black tie around his neck.

“Lucas you’re-”

“Completely on time.” Lucas says in a charming way as he passes his boss.

“Yeah, yeah.” She intensifies her glare but the slight smirk on her face gives her away. “Where’s Zay?”

“Uh,” Lucas looks around the big industrial kitchen for a second, “He got here before me.. He’ll be around here somewhere..” Lucas lies.

“Sure.” She eyes his suspiciously. “Both of you check in with Danny, this party will be filled with the wealthy in less than an hour.” She instructs.

“Sure thing, boss.” Lucas grins as he quickly tries to get out from under the watchful eye of his superior.

Lucas makes his way over to Danny, the man in charge of coordinating the wait staff for the event. The Texan continues to cover for Zay for twenty minutes before the dancer sneaks in the back door.

“There you are.” Lucas whispers. “I’ve been covering for you!” Instinctively Lucas reaches forward and helps straighten out Zays tie.

“I was with one of the teens in my program he’s having a rough time at home.” Zay explains. 

“Don’t do that.” Lucas folds his arms.

“Do what?” Zay questions.

“Remind me that you’re a decent person.” Lucas says.

“Awww.” Zay smiles sweetly.

Lucas rolls his eyes with a smile and gently shoves his childhood pal.

“Hey, I went to Ness’ class today-” 

“Yeah she told me you were late.” Zay laughs. 

“Something we have in common.” Lucas sports another eye roll. 

“How were the little twerps?” Zay chuckles, “Did they love the little flea ball you’re trying to get adopted?” 

“Yes and not the point- Also don't call them twerps.” Lucas shakes his head as he was getting off topic. “I met Riley today.” 

“Riley...” Zay knits his brows for a moment. “Riley Matthews?” 

“I didn’t catch her last name.” Lucas admits. “She said she worked for the company that funded your program.” 

“Yeah that’s Riley Matthews.” Zay nods. “Cute little brunette with puffy cheeks and she seems kinda sad.” 

Lucas nods too. Strangely it hurt him that Zay saw there was a sadness to Riley too. 

“Yeah I gave her a tour of the studio - not that it took long - and we went through some paperwork.” Zay explains. “She asked me about my life and I mentioned V, I think Riley spoke to her boss about the elementary school.” 

“I asked her out.” Lucas says proudly. 

“What?” Zay is surprised. 

“She totally rejected me but I asked her out.” Lucas says with the same goofily proud grin. 

Zay also adopts the proudness. “You haven't asked anyone out since Kelly dumped you over a year ago.” 

“She didn’t dump me. I broke up with her.” Lucas rolls his eyes. 

“Details.” Zay swats the air. 

“Are you two going to stand around all night?” Danny groans. 

“Sorry.” They both say in unison. 

“We’re just discussing how my boy asked out a girl today.” Zay pats Lucas on the back.

“Congratulations, you’re a big boy now.” Danny says sarcastically. “Please invite me to your wedding.” 

“Well little miss Riley Matthews turned him down so don’t be waiting on the invitation.” Zay chuckles and Lucas shoots him a glare. 

“Riley Matthews?” Danny gives the two Texans a look unsure if they were kidding or not. 

“Yeah, she’s this cute little brunette with puffy cheeks and kinda sad.” Zay uses the same description as before. 

“I know who Riley is.” Danny chuckles. 

“You do?” The Texans say again in unison. 

“You don’t?” Danny narrows his brows. 

Both Lucas and Zay sport confused expressions and Danny lets out an amused chuckle as he pushes his two less than impressive bus boys towards the doors that lead out into the ballroom. Each Texan puts their faces close to the two glass squares in the doors and look out into the Gala they’ll be waiting on later. 

“Riley Matthews.” Danny says and his chuckle increases. 

Both Zay and Lucas have their jaws hanging open. Their eyes find a big poster displaying the pretty brunette as  the guest of honour.

“You mean Riley is the millionaire philanthropist that’s being honoured tonight?” Lucas turns around with shock still written on his face. 

“Actually I think it’s more like billionaire if you count all the assets and company she owns...” Danny says. “Didn’t you two read the information email you were sent about the event?” 

“Honestly we never read those.” Lucas shrugs innocently. 

“You two are the worst employees.” Danny shakes his head as he walks off. 

“Dude, no wonder she turned you down.” Zay says. “She’s way out of your league.” 

“No kidding.” Lucas scoffs. “I was complaining about paying my rent and she's like rich and charitable.” 

“She told me she just worked for a charity.” Zay says. 

“That’s what she told me too.” Lucas frowns. 

“I guess it makes sense... I mean you wouldn't walk around telling people you're super rich would you?” Zay questions. 

“I guess not.” Lucas shakes his head. 

“Let’s read the email on her.” Zay says as he retrieves his cell from his back pocket. He takes a moment to find the unopened email from his boss and read aloud, “The 27th annual exceptional woman of the year award.. blah blah... will be held at.. blah blah...” Zay scans through it looking for the important information, “Awarded to the youngest recipient ever, Riley Matthews. A woman whom at the age of twenty-one was willed Evelyn Rands entire company and fortune and has since dedicated her time to making the world a better place... Wow she’s way way out of your league.”

“Thanks a lot buddy.” Lucas crosses his arms like a hurt little boy.

“I’m just saying.. You should see some of the things she's achieved in the last four years.” Zay says as he continues to read the list of charities Riley has either started or contributed to. 

“Great, if the rejection wasn’t bad enough now I have to go out there and be a lame bus boy at this ridiculously fancy event that’s being thrown for her!” Lucas frowns.

“Don’t worry about it, she’ll be at the important table, Danny won't assign you to them.” Zay says encouragingly. 

“Alright, Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumb are you ready to actually do some work?” Danny calls both their attentions and Zay quickly slips his cell back into his pocket. The two Texans join the other wait staff around Danny as he assigns sections to work. 

“The guests are arriving now so you’ll all be going out there in a minute to start serving the champagne. Now Lucas, you’ll be on table one.” Danny says through a smirk. 

“Why does that sound like the important table?” Lucas turns to Zay with a clenched jaw. 

“Because it is the important table.” Danny says clearly amused. “You’ll be taking care of the guest of honour. Lucky you.” 

Lucas lets out a groan but sadly there was nothing he could do unless he wanted to quit - which he quite literally couldn’t afford to do. 

Lucas goes out into the grand hall and he calms a little once he realises that Riley’s not there yet. Lucas begins to wait on the table. He’s pouring his fourth glass of champagne when she finally arrives. 

Riley appears in the doorway like something out of a daydream. Absolutely stunning which Lucas doesn’t find surprising since he already thought the New Yorker was beautiful from the moment her spotted her in the classroom but tonight was something else. Lucas is so taken back he over pours the glass of champagne and has to apologise to the disgruntled guest. He scurries into the kitchen for a towel and a new bottle of champagne.

After entering the gala, Riley takes a deep breath and prepares herself for the evening ahead. Almost immediately she’s approached by the events co-ordindater, the perky woman she’s been dealing with since hearing news she was being honoured with the award.

Riley’s lead to her table where’s she's sat next to a well known reality tv star that seems to be agitated. As soon as Riley sits down, the ‘New York Bliss’ star, Candy immediately starts complaining about the terrible service after having her champagne spilled all over the table.

Riley is sympathetic but says she’s sure it’s just an honest mistake. Lucas was hovering close by as Riley said that. Mostly because he saw her sit down after he came back from the kitchen and panicked about going over there.

“Oh look, there he is now just standing there.” Candy sighs heavily as she draws attention to Lucas.

The Texans eyes widen as he notices Riley spot him. Lucas nervously reproaches the table and apologises to Candy again.

“Dr. Friar?” Riley says just as surprised to see him.

“Dr?” Candy furrows her brows.

“Sorta.” Lucas chuckles nervously to the older woman and then turns to Riley with an embarrassed smile. “Told you I was a bus boy.”

“And apparently not a very good one.” Riley jokes lightly as she helps move things for Lucas whilst he dries the mess up.

“It’s alright Miss, I’ve got it.” Lucas says as he quickly pats the damp patch on the table.

“I don’t mind, Sir.” Riley emphasises the formal term and continues to assist. Lucas nods his thanks and proceeds pouring glasses for the table. Even though Riley doesn’t drink she allows him to fill her glass so she doesn’t look like the odd girl out. Riley was just as nervous as Lucas was or rather more so embarrassed that he’d discovered she was lying earlier but she was just far better at playing it cool than he is.

The event really starts to take off. Riley picks at the food presented in front of her and forces a smile to the other guests, some Riley knew through her charity work and others were strangers that still spoke to her as if they were family friends.

Riley listens as other guests discuss their own charitable endeavours, some seem genuinely passionate and others seemed to be patting theirselves on the back. All the while Lucas keeps his head down each time he has to cross paths with Riley.

Finally it comes to the part of the evening where Riley’s to be given her award. The host of the event draws everyone’s attention to a projector screen. Riley has to endure a ten minute video montage of her achievements.

At this point the wait staff were back in the kitchen but Lucas and Zay had poked their heads through the service doors to eavesdrop on the video.

They watch with mouths agape as it lists some of Riley’s good deeds. It includes everything from starting the Do Good Foundation to everything she’s done with it. Things like college scholarships, work in third world countries, her handlings with the homeless and needy families. They shine a lot of light on the work she’s done this holiday season and in the past. They talk about the families she feeds and the amount of children who will wake up with presents on Christmas morning because of her. It also shows some of the many charities Riley feeds money into like the foster care program her uncle Eric runs.

“She’s Mother fricken Teresa.” Lucas whispers feeling pretty down about himself.

Riley’s then called to stage to accept her award. She very nervously takes to the stage and looks around at the faces in the room. She even spots Lucas and Zay’s heads poked through the door and in response they yank their heads back into the kitchen.

Riley gives a well rehearsed speech to the crowd. It’s not that she was ungrateful for the award - she was anything but - it was just the sheer magnitude of this event, the fuss and more truthful Riley didn’t feel she was a deserving recipient.

After her speech, Riley only has to hang around for another ten minutes. Her obligation to be there was over and the guests were on the other side of tipsy so no one noticed Riley pick up her coat from the cloak room and hurry out of the building, no one except Lucas that is. 

Lucas finds Zay and asks why he thinks she left. To him it was strange that she’d leave an event dedicated to her so early. Zay offers up no viable answer so in a spur of the moment decision Lucas decides to follow her. 

“Where are you going?” Zay asks as he notices Lucas put on his coat.

“I gotta go see about a girl.” Lucas grins.

Zay rolls his eyes, Lucas was always quoting movies. “You’re going to get fired!” 

“Cover my table!” Lucas says quietly as he’s already halfway out the door. “You owe me!” 

“For what?” Zay scoffs. 

“I don’t, something I imagine!” Lucas laughs. 

Once outside Lucas quickly circles to the front of the building. It’s as he’s jogging that he realises how ridiculous following Riley out like this was, she was probably long gone by now. Lucas reaches the front of the building and looks  down the street in both directions. Then he spots her. She was only a few feet away from the buildings entrance, sat alone on a bench. Lucas pondered even going over there, maybe she didnt leave the event, maybe she just stepped out for some fresh air. After thinking it over in his mind for far too long, Lucas decides to approach the pretty brunette. 

Riley hears someone approaching and is surprised to look up and find the Texan. 

“You’re missing dessert.” Lucas says as he tucks his hands deep into his coat pockets for warmth. “It’s really good. Zay and I snuck one of the spares whilst on a self allocated break.” Lucas chuckles.

“I hope you’re a better veterinarian than you are bus boy.” Riley laughs. “That is if you’re even a real veterinarian.”

“That I am! Kind of.” Lucas chuckles. “But I already explained that.“

Riley nods with a small smile. Lucas takes the initiative to sit at the other end of the bench as Riley’s award was sitting beside her. 

"What about you though?” Lucas raises a brow. “Miss ‘I work for a charity. Real lower tier work’.”

“I do work for a charity.” Riley shrugs.

“You more than work for a charity.” Lucas scoffs lightly.

“Fine.” Riley huffs. “I run a charity. You happy?”

"Are you?” Lucas asks without missing a beat. 

“Excuse me?” Riley’s is surprised and her voice is quiet. 

“You have a sadness to you.” Lucas says sheepishly. “How is it that someone who is so good is so sad? Is it one of those things where you just give too much of yourself away to the world?” Lucas squints. 

“It’s the exact opposite.” Riley huffs. “I can’t do enough.” 

“What?” Lucas narrows his brows. “We were watching the same video about your achievements in there right?” 

“I can’t cure malaria.” Riley says and it feels completely out of place. 

“Now I’m lost?” Lucas laughs nervously. 

“We did this project thing in high school about charities and investment and I said if we used the money we spent on halloween candy we could work towards wiping out malaria.” Riley says. “I get money and I can’t wipe out malaria.” 

“So you can’t stop a blood disease spread by parasites.” Lucas says. “But I’m sure you help try to.” 

“It’s not just malaria though.” Riley sighs. “Malaria just made me realise that even though I had money it doens’t mean I can help people. I can donate money but I cant cure cancer or other life ending diseases.”

“Alright, you can’t cure diseases but your charity work does help further research for people who one day might find the cure.” Lucas says. 

“I have more money than anyone would ever need in their lifetime. Why? Why do I deserve that money?” Riley questions. “I come from a very comfortable upbringing. A nice warm apparent in a good area of New York City, I always had clothes on my back and food on the table and my best friend grew up in a poorer neighbourhood with a leaky roof... Why do I deserve to be given that kind of money and she doesn’t?” 

“Does your friend still live with a leaky roof?” Lucas question. “Did you help her once you could?” 

Riley is quiet and Lucas knew she had.

“Evelyn obviously saw something in you.” Lucas says. 

“What did she see?” Riley asks and she genuinely wants an answer. 

“The possibility of everything you’ve accomplished today.” Lucas says as a matter of fact. “I didn’t even know her and I hardly know you and I’m sure of this. 

Riley just remains quiet again so Lucas asks, "So was Evelyn your family or a friend?"

"No. I mean loved her like family but she was just an eccentric woman I met on the subway whilst I was in middle school."

Lucas pressed a little for Riley to tell him more and eventually she did. Riley explained how she first met Evelyn on the subway and how she wore crazy hats and how Riley grew very close to her over time. In fact, once Riley started opening up to Lucas is was like she couldn't stop. Riley told him all about Evelyn's brain tumour and how confused she's felt ever since her passing.

Lucas asks a few questions but didn’t interrupt too much, he just liked that Riley was getting all this off her chest, she clearly needed to. Riley continues to elaborate on how guilty this money made her feel. How she wished she could just give it all away but then she goes on to explain how she knows that’s irresponsible, for starters she would never want to disrespect Evelyn’s legacy by giving away her company and she also knew that giving away the money so someone else could deal with it meant that no good could come from it so it was just an impossible burden she had to bear. 

“I think the fact that you feel guilty is exactly why you’re a good person.” Lucas finally feels like it’s an okay time to interject. “You have pure intentions and you’ve put a pressure on yourself to do absolutely everything you can to change the world and this isn't necessarily a bad thing but you need to give yourself a break.” 

“Lucas, there a people dying in the world and there are families living on the streets and I’m sitting here in a ridiculously overpriced dress at a ridiculously expensive event-” Riley is too frustrated to even finish her thought. “When I was a teenager I used to think I should be rewarded for being a good person. I’ve literally been given a huge honour and I don’t want it.” 

“One good deed might not be able to change the world and that sucks,” Lucas shifts in place, “but one good deed can change someones life. You have changed so many peoples lives.” 

“But I could do more-” 

“No.” Lucas cuts in. “I never thought I’d be saying this but you have to focus on the little picture... You’re too consumed with saving the world that you don’t take the time to enjoy the things you’re doing to get there. You need to stop focusing on the people you couldn’t help this year and enjoy the smiles of the people you could.” Lucas continues, “There’s this kid in Zay’s program, Maxie, he came from an abusive home and when Zay first met him, Max was ready to call it quits on everything. Zay helped him with his dance and now Maxie’s just got a scholarship to a dance school. Zay never would have been able to do that if you didn’t help with the funding of his program.” 

“Zay did that, not me.” Riley says. 

“You worked out your own pay it forward system.” Lucas says with a smile. “You help people so they can help others.... I mean and you also just help a bunch of people first hand so you’re kind of beating the movie.” He jokes lightly.

“It’s not enough.” Riley says quietly and her gaze is fixated on people passing in the street. 

“What is enough then?” Lucas questions. “When will you consider your efforts enough? 

“Evelyn used to go to the subway to watch people.” Riley says. “She'd sit on a bench and look at the people and she’d think about what she could do for them. Evelyn used to say that other people were the key to your own happiness.” Riley says. “Right before she passed away she told me if I was ever feeling lost I should look to the people for answers. So that’s what I’m doing.” 

“You think that one of these days someone is going to pass you and all the sudden you’ll have the answer to the universe?” Lucas asks and for a moment Riley thought he might be making fun of her but once she notices the genuine expression on his face she drops the thought. 

“Maybe.” Riley shrugs and a sadness lingers.

“You know that saying, you’ve got to love yourself before anyone else can love you?” Lucas asks and Riley nods. “Well I think it’s the same with happiness.”

“Are you saying I have to be happy to make people happy?” Riley asks with a dubious look.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.” Lucas grins. “Happiness has to be the foundation of doing good.” 

Riley doesn’t want to talk about it anymore, she felt embarrassed so she changes the subject, which Lucas wasn’t oblivious to but he still answers all the questions she asks about his family back home and the clinic he works at here in the city. 

They talk about their plans for Christmas, Riley explains how she was leaving for Philadelphia tomorrow and she’d be having Christmas at her grandparents house. Lucas explains that he Vanessa and Zay were staying in the city, he neglects to share that the reason behind that was a matter of money though. 

Lucas hated that Riley felt this sadness and he wished more than anything that he could take some of it away for her but he knows he shouldn't push a stranger more than he already has. So after their butts get numb from sitting on the bench so long, Riley accepts Lucas’ offer to walk her home. 

As Lucas is walking Riley home a young girl carrying ice skates excitedly runs up to Riley and the girls mother quickly follows. It takes Riley a second but she recognises the face from Vanessa’s kindergarden class. It struck Riley as odd that they were out so late but Riley brushes it off as Christmas traditions for their family or something.

“Mommy, It’s Miss Matthews.” She tugs at her mothers coat. “She read at my school today.”

“I’m sorry, my daughter has a fascination with you.” The mom says. 

“I want to be just like you when I grow up.” The girl beams. 

“You want to write books?” Riley asks with a smile, naturally she assumed that’s what the girl was talking about since that was what she was there doing. 

“No. I want to be a philanthropist.” The girl says struggling to pronounce the big word. 

Riley is completely surprised by her statement. 

“I work for the hotel that the Gala tonight was held at. She heard me talking about how you were being honoured and she’s honestly been obsessed for weeks about being a philanthropist like you.” The mother explains. 

Riley is completely touched by this. So much that she has to fight the urge to cry. Shortly after they part ways with the mother and daughter. Lucas turns to Riley with a cheesy grin. “Okay for a moment lets ignore the thousands of lives you've already changed and lets focus on that one little girl. Because of you, she wants to help people.” Lucas holds Riley’s gaze. “Proof that kindness can inspire kindness.” 

Riley’s smile is small but genuine. 

“I don’t think Evelyn gave you her money because she thought you could change the world with it, I think she gave you the money because she knew you would change the world and not with the money but with your kindness.” 

“Is your third job like motivational speaking or something?” Riley lets out a nervous chuckle and even though she’s sheepish Lucas did make her feel so much better about things. Just talking about it all made her world feel a whole lot lighter. 

Lucas rolls his head forward with a laugh and then settles upright to hold Riley’s gaze again. 

Once outside of Riley’s apartment the two linger around for little longer than necessary before wishing each other a Merry Christmas and parting ways.

❄

Lucas arrives to work the following morning only after a few hours sleep. Once he unlocked the doors to the clinic Lucas notices an envelope at the foot of the door. Something that could have been slid underneath through the crack. Lucas picks it up and notices his name sprawled across the front.

Lucas rests his things down on the reception desk and opens the envelope. Inside are two things; a cheque for fifty thousand dollars and a simple note that reads ‘Get back to the reason why you wanted to become a veterinarian in the first place.’

Lucas stares at in in disbelief for a moment. Then his homeless puppy starts yapping as she knows Lucas is there. Lucas looks at the cheque again for a moment and knits his brows as he has a thought. "Huh." He says aloud.

Lucas pulls out his phone and texts Riley;

If you haven’t left for Philly yet could you swing by the clinic? It's urgent.

Riley replies almost instantly;

Is everything alright??

Lucas texts back;

Yeah everything's fine. Just please come?

Riley;

I'll be there soon.

Sure enough Riley's there within twenty minutes. The bell chimes as Riley enters the clinic. She's greeted by the receptionist Riley didn't know and she explains she's there to see Lucas but before she's even finished her sentence Lucas pokes his head through the examination door and asks Riley to come through.

Riley enters the small room to find the puppy she's come to know sitting on one of the tables inside an open festive box with a pretty red bow tied around her neck.

"She looks lovely today." Riley smiles.

"She has to look cute for her adoption day." Lucas beams.

"You found a family?" Riley asks.

"I did." Lucas nods. "You."

"What?" Riley laughs nervously.

“Come on.” Lucas says with a smile. “She needs a good family and I’m thinking you’re probably the best.”

“I can’t just adopt a puppy.” Riley laughs nervously as she pats the pup. 

“Why not?” Lucas questions. “You dedicate your life to making the lives of others brighter, you should let yourself have some of that light.” 

Riley stares at the puppy sat patiently in the open box so cute and well behaved. “Okay.” She says quietly as she lifts her out of the box and as she does some torn pieces of paper scatter about. “What’s this?” 

“That’s my way of politely rejecting your cheque.” Lucas says with a wide toothed grin.

“You tore it up?” Riley frowns. 

“I can’t accept your money.” Lucas shakes his head. “I won't.” 

"At least let me give you enough to get you back to Texas so you can save and start your own clinic?" Riley pleas.

"Are you trying to get rid of me?" Lucas asks with a slight smirk.

"I'm trying to help someone who helped me." Riley coaxes her head.

"That's not how paying it forward works." Lucas matches her head tilt.

"Please?" Riley asks.

"No." Lucas laughs.

"What about going home to Texas?" Riley questions.

"Staying in New York seems pretty good right now." Lucas holds her gaze.

Riley bites down on her smile. “I have about twenty-three minutes before I have to leave for Philly but if you weren’t busy maybe we could grab a coffee or a hot chocolate or a beverage or some kind?” Riley is amused as she uses Lucas’ bumbling proposal from the day before.

“I’m at work.” Lucas folds his arms.

“You wouldn’t have to be if you let me write you another cheque.” Riley coaxes her head again.

“Riley!” Lucas scolds with a laugh.

“Kidding!” She giggles.

“For that you can buy the drinks.” Lucas rolls his eyes with a smile. “I’ll take a self allocated break.” He chuckles. “If we hurry we might be able to swing by the pet store while we’re out, pick this little girl up some things.” Lucas pats the puppy Riley’s been clinging to.

“I suppose she’s going to need a name now.” Riley says.

“You’re right.” Lucas nods. “Any ideas?”

“Yeah.” Riley says as holds the puppy up so she can look her in the eyes. With a smiles she says, “I think I’ll call you, Dolly.” She turns to Lucas with a smile, “What do you think?” 

“I think it’s perfect.” He smiles back.

End Notes: I’m so lazy with editing long posts so I hope this is okay!! Lol... I wish I could make everyday of ficmas this long but I just don't have it in me sighhhh!!! 

@siennese sent me a prompt (last ficmas!!) which inspired this; 

I know I took it in a completely different direction but still giving credit to the lady who inspired it!! 

Until tomorrow my friends xxxx

#rucas #rucas au #rucas imagine #rucas fic

[beatificallys]

thomas x zoya (1)

jeppity moncrieth was a scoundrel of the worst variety. he smoked, he drank, he frequented the brothels often, and every time it was a different girl. his teeth were black and chipped, precarious on his gums, and when he opened his mouth to speak the wave of putrid breath that escaped was suffocating.

most of all, he was leader of a notorious street gang.

the gang stole from the poor shamelessly. they sucked the money out of the rickety slipshod neighbourhood and replaced it with iron fear that seemed to permeate the alleys. they collected tax from shop owners and families in exchange for protection. against what, it was unclear, but ironically the thing the people needed the most protection from was the gang itself. money in exchange for not being beaten up. thomas supposes that such things have a way of working out somehow after all.

the new day means thomas is due for a new mission. he strolls through the dank neighbourhood, grey gravel crunching underfoot, and his hands jammed in his pockets in an effort to shield them from the biting cold. he pops into his chief’s favourite brothel and knocks on a frosted glass pane.

a grunt signified enter.

thomas pops his head in and catches jeppity moncrieth with his pelvis against an ass. he recoils instinctively but forces himself to meet his chief’s shameless gaze. in one hand jeppity cradles a brown bottle of beer that lit up amber in the lamp’s light and the other is resting on the figure’s back with the same steadiness and firmness one might use on a spooked horse.

“dawson,” jeppity grunts. thomas forces his eyes to meet jeppity’s half-lidded pleasured eyes. “what’s your favourite position, eh?”

“what?”

“your favourite fucking position. what is it, eh? don’t make me repeat it.” jeppity gives the ass a forceful thrust, eliciting a soft noise of pain from the figure bent double over.

when dealing with jeppity it is better to give him straightforward answers. the man is impatient and aggressive, brutish and daft, and the combination of those qualities made for horrible consequences if his answer was delayed. thomas keeps his eyes concentrated on the balding spot at the back of jeppity’s head where there is nothing but exposed scalp and a sparse littering of curling grey hairs, in which he probably knows nothing about since it is beyond his sight. out of the corner of his eye he can see a large smear of beige, an indiscernible tangle of limbs.

“blowjob,” thomas replies, the first answer that comes to mind. this answer does not have to be true, it just needs to be said in response quickly.

for a moment the room is silent except for the sounds of sex coming from jeppity. in his earlier days thomas will have burst out of the brothel and thrown up on the dying switchgrass, the first flicker of emotion sending him running, but now his stomach is stronger. he stands rooted in place with a turning stomach, uneasy. jeppity finishes off with one final grunt. the figure curled up goes limp with ache and lethargy as jeppity extricates himself from her and wraps a towel around his waist. he moves away from the bed and only now without his frame obscuring the figure, thomas can see that it was a pale woman.

“your turn,” jeppity instructs. thomas froze.

“what?”

“i need you, thomas. I need you to fuck the woman for me. I want to know if she always sounds this unenthusiastic or if its just… me.”

“i can’t do that,” thomas chokes out with disbelief. “why?”

jeppity’s tone sours, vitriolic black venom. “why what?”

thomas glances at the long, gleaming Stygian rifle propped up the wall near jeppity and swallows hard. “i came here for business. not pleasure.”

“my pleasure is your business,” jeppity rumbles out. he narrows his eyes. “do you want your cut or not?”

the woman is clearly exhausted and crumpled on the bed in a tangle of limbs. there is the glow of sweat on her skin and her hair is all over her face. for a moment, thomas thinks she is lifeless, but the nearly imperceptible slow rise and fall of her chest betrays life.

the chair creaks with jeppity’s weight as he settles his ass on it, waiting with a look of irritation on his face. thomas allows himself a second. just one second to collect his thoughts and purge them from his mind before stepping to the woman and unbuckling his pants. such is the way this world worked. it is underground and dirty and dishonest, but thomas has wallowed around in the ground for long enough that he’s formed a coffin perfectly shaped for his body.

the woman turns her eyes up at him. they were blank.

thomas waits at the side of the bed for her.

old jeppity grows angry. “come on, rhonda! suck his dick. you’ve saved your voice enough when you were with me, why don’t you scream a little now?”

he flings a beer bottle at rhonda hard enough that it hits her ribs with a dull thwacking sound. rhonda collapses for a second, then pulls herself up, gathering her limbs as if they are separate components of her body, and kneels in front of thomas.

the woman takes him in his mouth and thomas feels a wave of shame overcome him. he can’t look at her or jeppity so he keeps his head bowed and eyes concentrated on the ground. the woman produces synthetic sounding noises. thomas feels sick.

once she is done, jeppity looks satisfied and sends her out of the room. thomas is glad for her. he pulls up his pants and redoes the buckle and then jeppity says, “i need you to give antonio ricardo a talking to. send him my… best wishes.”

thomas nods. “okay.”

jeppity watches thomas as he leaves the room, the rim of the beer bottle paused at his mouth and eyes lit in consideration.

*************

Thomas jumps from roof to roof, heavy boots pounding down on the zinc roofs with a cacophonous rat-a-tat that makes the residents leave their houses and look up at the perpetrator. The boots are a prize possession, won through a game of cards. They are expensive, replete with a shining buckle and inky black leather which he keeps gleaming with attentive polishing. The soles are completely black as well and sturdy, so that even as thomas treads through the dangerous streets of kursick, they keep his feet safe. one downfall of the boots however is that they make a distinctive sound when he walks. it is not loud, but nor is it completely silent, perhaps more like muffled noise, so when it is time to do these kinds of deeds thomas prefers to switch them out for a more silent pair. his trusty, old brown leather boots whose soles are so worn that they barely make a sound when he walks.

But this time there is no time to make such a switch. antonio ricardo is travelling out of kursick and towards the city centre for business in several hours. thomas leaps from roof to roof, a shortcut he learns in his line of experience.

a bedraggled woman with dirty grey hair curling around her face shakes a veiny hand at him. “FUCK OFF!” she snaps.

Thomas ignores her, leaving her behind in front of her house. ricardo’s store was right in front. he was a dried fruit merchant, a trade that was passed down the family, but alongside parched pomegranates and dehydrated apricots, ricardo also dealt in enough opium to kill anyone. it was only recently he obtained mass supplies of opium and started selling them to the opium dens scattered in kursick, but his newly started business threatened to overtake moncrieth’s. everyone found ricardo’s opium to be richer and more rewarding than jeppity’s. thomas thought it only right because he’d paid a visit to jeppity’s opium factories once before and discovered that jeppity had been heavily diluting his opium so that more could be produced. hardly anything about the man was honest, except maybe the shameless way he professed himself as a piece of shit. jeppity had ordered thomas to snuff out the beginnings of ricardo’s flame.

He leapt down from a roof in front of the store, sending up a cloud of dust with a resounding thud. no one paid him any attention because it was kursick. the people were too busy sniffing out scraps or gizzards or any sign of life that they could stuff into their mouths before another ravenous hand could steal it from them.

thomas placed a hand on the door and pushed but the door refused to budge.

“HEY RICARDO!” he called out to no answer.

He pounded on the door for several moments until he finally decided to give the door a swift kick.

the doors slammed open, cupboards rattling with the impact. the lights in the store were out and there was no one at the counter. it was closed. thomas narrowed his eyes and wandered into the shop. there were rows and rows of glass bottles holding something preserved. in one jar there was a snakes head. In another there was a rat. It looked like a horrific parody of an apothecary. in front of the jars there were preserved fruits, a row of apricots, pomegranates, and mangoes and other brightly coloured fruits. there was a rustle and a hitch of breath.

thomas continued his slow approach to the counter, head cocked in suspicion. he paused.

there was another rustle and thomas slammed his fist down on the counter, eliciting a fearful screech.

“who’s there?” thomas demanded.

slowly, hesitantly, a girl popped her head over the counter, eyebrows slanted in fear. she could be no more beyond 12 or 13 years old.

“who are you?” thomas asked again.

the girl swallowed visibly. “i am ariel.”

“what are you doing under the table?”

ariel glanced around nervously. “i was helping my father take stock when i heard you come in and so i dove under the counter. you scared me.”

“you are antonio’s daughter?” asked thomas. “where is your father?

“he is on a trip to the city centre. that’s why the shop is closed today.”

“what?” thomas asked, surprised. “i thought he was leaving tonight.”

“he set off early,” ariel said, wide eyes searching thomas’s face. he wondered what she saw that made her brandish a poker from behind her back. he hadn’t noticed her hand creeping behind her back in the low light. the tip was glowing red, pulsating and swiped past his left ear. the end grazed the tip of his year in just the slightest and thomas leapt back, scowling, with a hand pressed to the scorched area.

“you work for moncrieth, don’t you?” ariel said. “i know what you’re planning to do to him.”

“will you stop me?” thomas sneered down at the small girl.

the statement was enough. ariel leapt onto the desk and pounced on him with eerie grace, slashing the area around thomas, her movements sharp and fierce. thomas ducked and rolled and turned, narrowly evading the hissing tip of the poker. it danced in and out of his vision, incandescent, blinking a shade of danger orange as if mocking him. he reached for the flash bomb hooked at his waist and pelted it at her. there was a sound like a popped balloon and a bright, white flash subsumed the dark store. he made sure to avert his eyes as the flash went off. ariel let out a surprised yelp and thomas used her momentary lapse of concentration to shove a boot in her stomach. ariel collapsed on the floor, the poker clattering out of her hand, and thomas used his foot to kick up the poker into his grip.

now he pointed it at her. ariel got up on her elbows, blinking furiously from the effects of the flash. thomas pressed the end of the poker lightly into her hand, as if passing on a gift, and a shrill shriek resounded through the store. again, no one came to intervene. thomas could imagine the stray vagabond or two lingering outside the door to see if the owner of the shop had died, preparing to raid the shop for supplies and cash, but perhaps that would be the extent of any intervention occurring in the area. that was the thing about kursick. it was convenient grounds for crime.

ariel held the burnt hand to her chest, tears welling in her eyes. immediately after he did that, thomas felt bad that he’d wounded her. he’d treated everyone as an enemy to be attacked for so long that he’d forgotten how to show kindness or to discern between grown man and small girl. everyone was a criminal there.

“tell jeppity that his rule is crumbling,” ariel hissed, eyes burning with hatred. “and he can go piss up his own asshole.”

almost immediately, thomas withdraws his sympathy.

“big words for a small family,” thomas mused. “i could kill you right now and then your father and your family would be done. what a sad thing to think about, don’t you think?”

“then continue being jeppity’s minion. eat from jeppity’s scraps, suck his dick, and continue doing whatever he tells you to do.”

“How i survive is none of your concern,” thomas hissed. “Perhaps you should be more concerned about yourself.”

The girl went silent.

“i’ll send jeppity your regards,” thomas told her, eyes narrowed, lazily tossing the burning poker on the ground out of ariel’s reach.

The prickle of the girl’s stare followed him out to the door, right before it slammed shut.

****

dense trees hemmed thomas in on all sides. the city centre was obstructed by a dark forest, and the only way there was a small, cobblestone path that wended through the forest. there were cricket calls, chittering, and snarling, the perpetrators of which were all safely hidden behind the veil of leaves and shadows. even in broad daylight vision was impaired. a dark shroud hung around in the forest, making thomas’s five fingers come up fuzzy in his vision when he held it up in front of himself. there was no telling what sinister creature hid itself between the shadows. the forest was frequent grounds for theft and kidnaps. it wasn’t uncommon to be walking along the forest path and find yourself confronting a mercenary guild. as thomas moved swiftly through the undergrowth, weaving through leaf and branch, trying as much as he could to muffle the noise of his footfalls, he could hear the clatter of a horse carriage as he approached.

ricardo was squat, and from the bulges beneath his jacket, thomas could tell he was heavily armed. thomas frowned. firearms were not allowed in the city center, and anyone caught in possession or with the intention to distribute was sentenced to a lengthy period in the dungeons. it was a rule everyone knew, and it was common practice for city travellers to disarm before setting off. for a war state, azus kept its capital adamantly firearm free. ricardo wasn’t careless. he was intentionally bringing in weapons and from the dirty tarp thrown over a suspicious mound on the bottom of the carriage, thomas could tell that there were more where those came from. this wasn’t a regular opium trade off. something was brewing.

the horse looked like it was about to collapse under ricardo’s rotund figure, and that was one of thomas’s kinder thoughts. ricardo’s expression was entirely unperturbed, blissfully ignorant like a blinkered mule. his jaw worked as he chewed on a lick of tobacco and his eyes were set straight ahead. ignorant fool. though ricardo wouldn’t see it, thomas curled his lip at him in disgust. how could an opium dealer think to make the trip to city center unguarded? the bastard was just asking for it. thomas ran ahead of ricardo until he reached the peak of the hill ricardo would pass in a few moments and began assembling his firearm, a familiar pistol he won a long time ago at a gambling den. load, lock, pull.

a few seconds later, ricardo’s figure slowly rises into view. thomas points the pistol at ricardo and catches his tongue between his teeth, tense, anticipating, waiting for that trigger-happy moment. thomas’s finger rests on the trigger, ready to squeeze, when suddenly the silence of the forest dawned on him. there was no more chitter chatter of the animals. the death-like silence hit him like a hard hand at the back of his head. thomas’s animal instincts flare up, and he whirls to face the man behind him, but he’s too fast. a hand reaches out a snaps his head back against the tree he stood in front of and knocks the pistol out of his hand, sharp and hard.

thomas leaps back, teeth bared in pain and eyes furiously darting across the vegetation in search of the culprit. one pistol down, thomas’s hand readies to grab the second pistol strapped on the other side of his waist. the forest canopy threw his surroundings into shadow so that it was hard to make out anything. he faced the part of the forest that was most illuminated, so the culprit had the upper hand in terms of visibility. a hand shot out of the darkness and wrapped around his throat. the force of the hand and thomas’s shock sent him lurching into the grass, scrabbling at the chokehold around his neck. a towering figure built with the broad shoulders of a man dressed entirely in black stood over him, but his face was shadowed. thomas kicks out blindly: once, twice, but its no use. the grip the figure had was unwavering and he threw their whole weight into keeping thomas pinned to the ground. the thing about having grown up and flowered in kursick is that you hold your own life higher than anything else. no dignity, no code of honour. it was survival, plain and simple. survival instinct courses through thomas like a conflagration, scorching his veins with fear and want. he thrashed his legs out even harder and dug his nails into the gloved hands of the figure. once the grip on his neck loosened, albeit fractionally, thomas ducked his head down enough to sink his teeth into their hand. the chokehold falters even further. now thomas blindly swings out with all his energy and his fist connects with something hard: bone. this opening is big enough for thomas to squirm out of the figure’s grip. panting, he flings a flare bomb right at the enemy and his hand immediately reaches for the second pistol. in the split second of the bomb’s glare, the enemy is thrown into light. a pair of dark eyes and a ghostly pale face stare back at thomas. the forest pitches into darkness again.

his breath catches for only a second before he fires twice. dark spots dance in front of thomas’s eyes in the wake of the flash bomb, so much so that he doesn’t see when the dark figure emerges from the flash of light and tackles him to the ground. thomas’s last pistol flies out of his reach. a groan tears itself from his lips as the force of the impact squeezes all the oxygen in his lungs out.

“who are you?” thomas hisses.

“you don’t know what you’re messing around in,” the figure says. he feels a jolt of surprise when realizes the voice belongs to a woman. “no doubt are you one of the many criminals from kursick who want to dip their hands in the opium trade. this is deeper than you, so leave this place. ricardo is mine. do you understand?”

“what the fuck are you saying — ”

“I’m saying, stay away.”

The voice is low and compelling, the kind that could travel across acres. For a flicker of a moment, Thomas is about to back off and drop the matter, but then the illusion passes as fleetingly as a cloud and he shoves the woman off him.

“Don’t tell me what to do, bitch,” he snarls.

The strong grip comes back over his throat, suffocating. Thomas has been in his fair share of fights before, instilled with instinct and skills. The woman’s brute strength is something Thomas can’t surpass, but it’s nothing he can’t handle. Thomas’s hand reaches up blindly to her belt to grab something firm – a dagger. His eyes widen. The only people who carried manual weapons like knives or swords came from the city center. The woman must be from there – rich.

He shoves it into her side. Incredibly, she twists and evades the hiss of the blade, but her distraction is enough for Thomas to worm his way out of her grip. Thomas dashes for the pistol hidden in between the undergrowth, loads, locks, and pulls, and the bullet is balancing on the precipice of the mouth of the gun, ready to fly, when the gun is knocked to the side and the woman tackles him down to the ground again.

Thomas kicks and thrashes, snarling, teeth bared like a wild animal. A strong hand claps over his mouth, smothering him, and he sticks his elbow into the woman’s face. They’re rolling and kicking, and all of a sudden the space around them is thrown into light. They’ve veered out of the undergrowth and into the main path.

There’s the halt of horseshoes and the click of a gun.

“Dawson,” Ricardo sneers, barrel pointed towards Thomas.

The woman lying on top of him stills. She’s frozen. Thomas glances at her, ready to deliver the last, defining blow, and he freezes too. It’s – it’s her. Nataliya.

Her eyes are large, filled with shock.

“Tommy?”

The name slips from her mouth, unbidden.

“I… I… “

How long has it been since he heard that name of affection in her voice? How long has it been anyone has called him that?

“What the fuck is going on here?” Ricardo demands. “What business do you have with a royal soldier, Dawson?”

The undergrowth had been too dark for Thomas to notice it, but now with enough illumination he could see it. The royal sigil emblazoned at her breast. She was dressed entirely in black, with a cape streaming out behind her. The uniform of the royal army. And it wasn't just that. There were several medallions underneath the royal sigil, and Thomas knew just enough about the royal army to know that it meant that she was --

“Commander,” he breathed out incredulously.

Nataliya stares at him, stricken. Then her gaze changes, vulpine and sharp, and Thomas doesn’t even see her reach for a dagger before it goes whizzing past into Ricardo’s knee.

He screams and falls to the ground, gun clattering out of his grip. Nataliya climbs off Thomas to snatch the gun away. Thomas’s mouth opens and closes several times in succession but no sound comes out.

“Commander! Commander!” A voice calls from behind them. Another soldier emerges, dressed similarly to Nataliya. “You got him.”

“I told you to stay behind, Johnson,” she says.

“I know, but I heard gunshots. I thought something went south.”

“Have a little faith,” she tells the other soldier. He must be working under her, judging from the careful way he holds himself. Respect, governed by fear.

“Who’s this guy?” Johnson asks. Nataliya goes over to inspect the cart full of opium, without so much as a cursory glance at Thomas.

“Someone from a crime gang in Kursick trying to steal the opium. He knows nothing about the other stuff.” Nataliya bends down and uncovers the sheet of tarp hiding the arsenal of guns in the bottom section of the cart.

Thomas’s head spins. “Wait – what do you mean – Nataliya – “

Johnson looks from him to Nataliya in puzzlement, head almost spinning on its neck. “Wait, you know this guy?”

“No.”

Her answer is sharp and definite. Thomas’s call dies on his lips.

“Let him go,” says Nataliya. His heart stops. He scrambles up on his feet.

“What? Wait – what are you doing?”

Nataliya clambers on the saddle of the horse, taking charge of the reins. “Johnson, put Ricardo in the back seat and hop in after him. We’ve got to get this to Central.”

“Oh, sure.” Johnson follows orders, albeit confused. He keeps looking at Thomas, which makes Thomas’s skin prickle with irritation.

Looking straight ahead, Nataliya snaps the reins and the horse sets off, leaving a trail of dust in its wake. And Thomas is left behind with the dust, confused and smarting with rejection.  

**

KURSICK

The first time they meet, Thomas is ten and swimming in a filthy, polluted lake, water bubbling at his mouth. Thomas’s blacksmith father was angry again. It was winter and everyone was poor, which meant that there was no business at the workshop. His father had been sitting in front of his workstation, sullen, turning a big, heavy wrench in the palm of his hand over and over again.

Arthur Dawson often asked Thomas to help out at the workshop. Cutting wood, stoking fires, and once in a while he’d teach Thomas a trick or two. Welding, heating, molding. The workshop was dirty and was filled perpetually with the acrid stench of smoke. There were blackened pots and pans hanging up against the dirty white walls, forbidding, like ancient faces staring down at him in castigation.

Arthur Dawson grabbed Thomas’s little hands and shoved a hammer in between them. Thomas nearly fell down with it. His father instructed him to retrieve a stick of metal from where it’d been dipped into the orange glow of fire and set it down on an anvil. It was Kursick. They could hardly afford gloves. The old pair Thomas wore was fraying, and the sharp heat of metal scalded him through the holes in the cloth. He quickly threw it on the anvil, a hiss of pain escaping from between his teeth.

His father clobbered him on the head. It made everything spin.

“Don’t treat my tools with such disrespect,” his father scolded. “This is what brings you food on the table, feeds your miserable, grubby mouth. Well? What are you staring at me for. Fucking continue!”

Thomas began pounding on the sheet of metal with the hammer, until the part of the black metal that glowed red and orange folded in the angle his father wanted. Embers flew everywhere, occasionally landing on his cheek and scalding him.

The wind was howling. Winters in Kursick were brutal and unforgiving, but there was no letting up under the watch of Arthur Dawson. He could feel his father’s eyes boring into him. They hurt more than the heat. Every strike of the hammer made the threads in the gloves undo themselves further. He was going to bring the hammer down when the heated part pressed against his skin. Thomas let out of a yelp of pain and clutched the burnt hand to his chest, letting the metal fall down to the floor. His father wrenched a meaty fist in the collar of Thomas’s shirt and pulled him up until his feet were dangling above the ground.

“Useless!” His father bellowed. He threw Thomas into a shelf, letting the days worth of empty amber beer bottles fall to the ground and smash.

Thomas knew that it’d been days since they’d gotten a customer. A familiar sight would be his father with his work apron stretched over his gigantic belly, pacing up and down the workshop, smelling of spirits. His mother, who used to be a prostitute, dozed in the room behind the workshop, frail and sickly, arms the size of toothpicks. She was sick and only waited to die. “I’m sorry,” Thomas pleaded. “Please, stop.”

“No.” Arthur growled. “You’ve done nothing but disrespect me, boy. I could have thrown you out of this house and let people devour you. Yet, this is what you give me in return? Your shit?”

“I’m sorry, I won’t do it again, I promise – ”

Normally it would end here. Arthur would knock Thomas around a bit more before relenting and returning back to his booze and sex and sleep.

“No,” Arthur said. “I have to teach you a lesson.”

“What?”

Arthur picked Thomas up. At that age Thomas was only spindly arms and legs so Arthur lifted Thomas as if he was nothing more than a leaf. The breeze chilled Thomas to the bone. It made his teeth chatter and his body curl in on itself. He cried and pleaded and begged, but the grip his father had on him never loosened. With Thomas thrown over his shoulder, Arthur Dawson stalked down to the small lake near their house.

“Only weaklings die,” Arthur told him, and tossed him in.

Water went up Thomas’s nose. Pain from cold was different from pain from heat. It dug into one’s bones, to the very core of a person, and pulsated and ached and hurt. Thomas thrashed, eyes squeezed shut, screaming for help. There was a roaring in his ears. He could hardly feel his body and the cold slowed his movements down. He was crying out to no one. Help me, help me, please help me. It was more likely he get pulled out for someone else to steal the clothes off his back than get saved and live.

Thomas thought about life. It was the only thing he had and yet here, now, he was going to lose it. He thought about his father’s hairy fists and his accompanying blood. His mother’s glassy gaze, her shriveled form, her pallid face. Their tiny house composed out of rickety blocks of wood that would tremble at the slightest breath. Those blackened walls, burnished metal. Soot covering every inch of the house. Ravenous, soulless citizens all fighting for a morsel of meat. How little he had, and yet he wanted it. How poor he was, yet his breath and battering heart were a fortune in itself.

It was with these thoughts that Thomas took in his last breath of water and darkness overcame him like a wave.

He doesn’t remember what happened after. He just wakes up in the grass with a girl sopping wet and shivering beside him.

“Good. You’re awake. You’re hardy enough.”

Instinctively, Thomas recoils away from her, but the cold makes any movement painful. His first thought is that she’s taken something from him. Clothes? An organ?

But looking himself over, Thomas finds that nothing is out of place.

“I didn’t take anything,” she said.

“Why?” Thomas asked suspiciously. His breath came out in white puffs.

“You are like me. And I wouldn't want anyone to take things from me.”

Thomas stared at her, incredulous. “Why did you save me?”

She stares back at him like he’s speaking in a different language.

“Blyat, did you not hear me? You were going to die. What was I supposed to do? Stand around and watch?”

But even as she said this, she looked uneasy. She knew how unnatural her action was in a place like this.

“I saw your papa. He was quite angry. What you do?”

“I… I dropped his hammer. It – it doesn’t always happen like this,” Thomas added on quickly, feeling somehow defensive about what he had.

“I know,” she told him calmly. “This is the first time I’m seeing you here.”

Her eyes were dark and wide. She was about his age and skinny as well, arms folded around her legs and head cocked to the side, bird-like. Her black hair was even darker when wet.

“Are you always at this lake?” She nodded. “Where are your parents?”

“I don’t know my papa. He left a long time ago. My mama is working. Men come over to our house all the time. I have to leave when that happens, so I come down here, to the lake.”

There is silence for a while. Looking back on it now, Thomas might’ve described it as shared commiseration, something so rare and embryonic in a torn down place like Kursick, so much so that if he could go back to that moment, turn back time, relive it, he would have shaken his young self by the shoulders and screamed at him to realize how strange and vital it was, and how much it should have been treasured at that moment.

But young Thomas picks up a stone and skips it across the lake thoughtlessly. It goes three times before sinking.

“Are you going back?” The girl asks.

“Of course,” Thomas says. “You should go back too. It is dangerous to be out here alone.”

“I’m not alone now,” the girl said.

“Bye.”

Thomas stood up, and the fire and the fury and the bloody fists all come back to him, so he sat back down again.

The girl steals a glance at him.

“What is your name?” he asks.

“Nataliya.”

Nataliya. Na-ta-li-ya. The syllables sounds like tinkling in his head, like a glass bell.

“I’m Thomas.”

“That’s just fine,” she says.

Though a distance apart, they sit together in silence, throwing their gazes out at the sick sun bleeding across the wan sky, and how young, how tender these people must be just to feel a little less lonely.

** This is how their friendship goes. Time is ticking rather slowly. Thomas gets antsy at times like this, nervously chewing the skin around his thumb under the window left ajar. He places a hand on the brick wall in a moment of thoughtfulness. He’s never touched a wall as solid. Bricks were a luxury, only available to the richer parts of Kursick. Thomas can see a hole in the wall where someone tried to pluck bricks out from it, desperation at its finest. Nothing was yours forever in Kursick.

Not that he was criticizing stealing.

Nataliya’s head pokes out from the window, a welcome sight. She dumps food on the ground: apples, pears, bread, butter, all rolling around at his feet. Thomas’s stomach rumbles.

“Stop staring,” she tells him, and slides lithely out of the window.

At fifteen, Nataliya is clever and mean. She orchestrates all their escapades. Whenever they run out of supplies, the two of them will roam around the richer parts of Kursick, searching for openings into houses. She fends off people she needs to fight and takes from people when she has to, a classic street rat. Thomas is glad to stick beside her.

And yet, no one really knows why they stick to each other. To find someone who won’t kill you is a rarity in Kursick, much less a friend. But every once in a while they’ll share a glance after splitting a hard-won apple in half, or bask in the victory of a successful raid, and the doubt will disappear.

Thomas lets out a low whistle between his teeth. “What is that man feeding himself? How is he not obese?”

“Yeah, and he just watches while we all starve. C’mon, help me gather these up.”

Thomas places as many items as he has in the scoop of his shirt while Nataliya does the same. They’re about to turn off the street and slink back into the shadows when Nataliya suddenly lets out a surprised gasp.

“Where do you think you’re going?” A man snarls, his fist curled around Nataliya’s dark hair. His skin resembles crumpled paper and his teeth are blackened with decay. A ravenous glint lights up his eyes.

Nataliya struggles to get away from him, her hands still clutching on to the food insistently, but the vagabond gives a firm tug to her hair and sends her toppling back. Thomas releases the fruit, letting it tumble to the ground.

“Let her go!” he shouts, swinging his fist at the man’s face. It connects with bone. The man jumps back, scowling.

“Give it to me. Give it to me.” The vagabond’s hands scrabble for a fruit, but Thomas shoves him against the wall and rains punches down on the vagabond. The vagabond’s hands come up to shield him, as if they could possibly stop Thomas, but Thomas is relentless. Firm fingers wrap around Thomas’s shoulders.

“Stop it. Let’s go,” Nataliya urges, pulling him away.

He doubles back and realizes what he’s staring at: an old, frail, starving vagabond too weak to defend himself. Heart bounding, he gathers the remaining food and scurries away after Nataliya. They split it at the lake afterwards.

His teeth crunch into a pear. Sweetness bursts in his mouth. For some reason, Thomas can’t stand the taste, so he throws it to Nataliya, who catches it and takes a mouthful out of it.

“What’s wrong?” she asks.

He shakes his head. “I’m losing my mind.”

“What do you mean?”

“I – I was about to kill that vagabond.”

Nataliya looks unsurprised. “Well, he was going to hurt us.”

Thomas’s train of thought halts. Nataliya’s looking at him with those unfazed eyes, steady and stolid as they always were. He pushes the strange thoughts to the back of his head. “You’re right. I don’t know what I felt for a second. Sympathy?”

“Not a place for that,” Nataliya says, taking another mouthful of the pear and tossing it back to him. Thomas hums in grim agreement.

The pear arcs back and forth between them until it’s nothing more than a bare rind that they leave amongst the pebbles. It’s just another artifact for a skeletal hand to sweep up and pocket.

“Come on, we should go,” Nataliya says. She throws the sack of food over her shoulder. Thomas follows. He knows too little than to do otherwise, and following Nataliya hasn’t done him any harm.

There’s a hollowed out tree at the riverbank a short walk away from Thomas’s house. The squat grey thing sits in the distance, coughing out grey smoke. It’s been days since he returned.  Nataliya throws the sack into the hollow of the tree, where it will be steadfastly guarded and carefully rationed.

The sun hangs low, orange is all over the skies. Nataliya finds twigs and starts rubbing them together to create flame. Cold bites his fingers, nips at the back of his neck where skin is uncovered. He can feel a flu burgeoning in his body. He curses inwardly. His immune system’s always been for shit.

Two tries and a tiny flame blossoms in the pile of branches amassed in front of Nataliya, which grows to a well-sized flame. It lights the front of her face, orange light resting on the sharp planes of her face, making her look more intense, much less softer.

It must be a thought coming from a flu-seized, muddled brain. It’s misplaced, strange. Thomas swears in his head again. He coughs. She lifts her eyes from the fire she stoked and fixes him with a look: guarded, unfriendly, even though they’ve been on the brink of… something, he doesn’t know. Inscrutable. He can never know what she’s thinking.

“Have you fallen ill?” Her tone almost sounds disappointed.

Thomas bristles. “Ill? Nah. Some sand just got into my mouth.”

She looks unconvinced. “Maybe I should take first watch.”

“Nothing is wrong with me!” Thomas insists. “Go knock out.”

She stares at him for a while more, then finally says, “Okay. Fine.” The night breeze whips Thomas’s cheeks even harsher. His breath comes out in white puffs.   Thomas hears rustling behind him as Nataliya settles in. Each of them take turns through the night to sleep on a blanket stolen from Thomas’s house. On some nights, Thomas will see a shadow crawling along the dark skyline and he grabs the handle of his self-fashioned axe tighter. But this night, it is silent. The cold of the winter apparently too harsh a condition even for thieves to function.

In the distance, the lights in his house are still turned on. His father has still not retired. He must have walked the path from the lake to the house a hundred times and walked up the steps a thousand times. He remembers the smoke, the fire, the dozen metal tools that struck the anvil over and over and over again. And his hands, coming away black with soot. Everything is seared into his brain, like a fresh wound.

“Nat,” he says. “Do you ever think about your parents?”

Silence. Then, “No.”

“I never want to see them again,” she says.

Thomas hums. His eyes are inevitably drawn up to the squat little house a short walk away.

“Do you?”

The glow in the house is persistent. What is father doing? Why is he up so late? Thomas feels a pull towards the little house on the hill, and at the same time, repulsion.

Thomas blows out a breath. “I don’t know.”

“But he was so mean to you,” Nataliya says.

Yes, Thomas has not forgotten. The fists and the fury and the bloody mouth. He can still map out the exact place where his father’s fist curled around his neck and dunked him into freezing waters.

Still, he shakes his head. “I don’t know.”

Unexpectedly, he falls asleep mid-watch, the flu making his mind hazy. When he comes to on the tattered blanket in the hollow of the tree, Nataliya is awake, patting out the smoldering flames. The sky is filled with pre-dawn light. From the bruises underneath her eyes, she looks like she hadn’t slept at all. He tries to sit up and realizes something has been thrown over him: her dirty jacket.

His mouth works soundlessly, searching for something to say.

“You’re predictable, Tommy,” she says without looking up. “Come on, it’s time for the next raid. I hear the factory’s got a new import.”

He rises, well rested. “I – ”

“Come on,” she says again, taking her jacket from him and slipping it on. She refuses to look at him. “Okay.”