AN: Alrighty, so I figure it's time for me to start a multi-chapter fic. I haven't been writing fanfiction for very long (outside of my head), but I want to try it. The worst thing that could happen is that no one reads it, but even then, my writing will improve, right? Okay, down to brass tax...

Disclaimer: My dishes, OMGJL's characters and setting and what-not, for the most part.

I take a long drag off my cigarette. I usually don't smoke, what with the threat of lung disease and all, but sometimes it feels good to unwind. And today, I really need to calm down.

Mummy and Daddy went through my things this morning. I don't know why they did it today, as I've lived on my own for almost three years now, but they did. Mummy found my porn, and called the office to yell at her "revolting dyke" of a daughter. Daddy took the phone from her to apologize, but her screaming had completely unnerved me. I told my secretary I wasn't feeling well, and to cancel my appointments for the rest of the day. Heading home, I almost walked into a bicyclist, and decided I needed to calm down before I hurt someone. So, here we are.

I'm leaning against a wall. I think it's the wall of a cafe or bar of some sort. I can smell liquor, and some kind of hot vegetable dish. My stomach growls, and I realize that perhaps my distraction isn't entirely mentally based. A man and woman enter the building. They're fighting about something. I follow them in; I have a bit of an eavesdropping habit.

"Come on, Mo, we haven't... you know..."

"What, Mark? We haven't fucked?! Maybe your constant whining isn't a turn on. Why do you always blame me?"

"I'm not whining! You've been sleeping at the lot for the past three weeks, and I miss you!"

"Yeah, well, I don't miss you."

The last statement by the woman seems to crush the little blonde boy pretty sufficiently, and they fall silent. Immediately, I feel bad for listening in, but a part of me reasons that every person in what turns out to be a cafe had heard them. They weren't exactly being discreet. The woman, Mo, looks up and stage whispers. "Pookie... I just need space sometimes. You know I love you..."

The man, Mark, sighs and accepts what is obviously a frequent almost-apology. "I love you too. I'll be at the loft. See you later."

He leaves her to sit by herself at their table, whipping his scarf behind his shoulder and pushing through the door. She is composed until he exits, then covers her head with her arms and her shoulders begin to shudder with sobs.

The patrons of the cafe glance at her, and then turn away from her. Angered by their indifference, and somewhat curious about the girl, I go to sit at her table. I put a hand on her shoulder (not something I'd usually do, but she needs someone), and astonished, she looks up at me.

She is exquisite. Her complexion is flawless, her hair, while somewhat disarrayed, begs to be run through with deft fingers, boasting the texture of chocolate silk. I can't tell the colour of her eyes, they are so bloodshot. They could be brown, or hazel, or even green. But they see me, all the way down, or at least that's how they feel. I want to be watched by them for as long as possible. Her mouth, while drawn thin in anguish, is still full and innocent and ripe, and I want to touch it, to feel if it is as supple as it appears. But, I control myself; she is obviously in too much pain for my advances, and probably wouldn't appreciate them anyways, if the boyfriend is anything to go by. She opens her mouth to speak.

"Um... hi."

"Hello. Are you okay?"

"Oh, that... I will be. This happens a lot. I don't think he and I are quite suited to each other."

"Maybe, maybe not. D'you want to come back to my place and talk about it?" I ask, feeling suddenly bold.

She looks grateful, and a glimmer of something I can't recognize flickers through her eyes.

"Please? I always appreciate a little attention when I'm feeling down. I'm Maureen. Friends call me Mo."

"I heard." I grin slightly.

She flushes a surprisingly delicate shade of pink. "Right. Let's blow this joint. What did you say your name was?"

"Joanne."

So... how'd it go, so far? What do you think? I'd really like to know, if you don't mind telling me. Reviews are to Rissa, what Mo is to Jo. Well, not quite... you see what I'm getting at though, right?