The streets were brisk that evening as the sun set in Louisiana. Beca had been living on the streets for years now, having a few specific alleys that she spent the cold nights in and opting for the park, or the field just out of town for the nights where it was warmer, so she could see the stars. The only things she had to her name, she earned herself, or were gifts.

The backpack she carried contained a simple music player, with only a set amount of songs, but occasionally she was able to get into the public library to change it up a little, or charge it. Other things she owned included a pillow, a few extra shirts, and only one extra pair of pants, which she tended to wash in the pond at the park, late at night when no one was around.

Ever since the foster home she had been placed in those many years ago, Beca tended to not speak with anyone, especially older men, and women her age. The other kids beat on her; the "father" was especially unkind. Shaking the memories from her head she headed for the park, only a few blocks from here, even though her stomach was rumbling.

The beanie she was wearing over her unkempt hair was worn, and stretched out. Her coat was ragged around the hems, and the elbows were almost worn through. The one of two pairs of jeans she owned had holes through the knees, and she didn't even want to think about what her shoes looked like; she usually just picked them out of the donation boxes before the cars came to pick them up and bring them to Salvation Army.

Only ten more minutes until she would be at the park. Headphones were popped into her pierced ears, and she wasn't really paying attention to where she was going, until she bumped in to someone, in which she stumbled forward, but caught herself. The woman gasped in surprise, the cup in her hand tumbling down the front of her body. Beca wanted to flee, but she knew that she should at least apologize. "S-sorry," she mumbled, fear striking through her body as she started to turn heel to run.

But a hand grabbed her wrist; it wasn't painful, but it was firm. As her body turned to face the woman's she brought her free hand up to shield her face. "V-vhat? No, it's okay," the taller woman seemed surprised as she peeled off her sunglasses. The brunette was tentative, and only lowered her hand slightly, enough to look at the woman before her. She was tall, like much taller than she had originally thought. Blonde hair framed the fair skin of her face, and the red lipstick she wore made Beca's knees weak.

The worst part of it was her eyes. As blue as the glaciers in the poles, and they felt icy as they scanned the visible parts of her face. "N-no really, I'm sorry, pl-please let me go," she stammered, her heart rate picking up, flight mode starting to initiate. The blonde let go of her wrist, but for some reason Beca's feet didn't move. "I am sorry, I did not mean to frighten you," her voice was low, but sincere. The smaller woman let her hand fall, and she saw the huge stain of coffee down the front of the woman's shirt.

The brunette felt tears in her eyes. She couldn't afford to buy the woman a new shirt, from the looks of it, it was from one of those fancy fashion designer shops, and hell, Beca could barely afford to 99₵ donut from the coffee shop on the corner. "I- I'll get you a new shirt," she whispered, barely audible over the loud noises of the city. "Nein, that is not necessary," the taller woman spoke. Beca was intrigued, barely remembering the days in which she was actually in school. She thought to herself and remembered that she had only completed her freshman year of high school, taking a semester of German.

The German had immediately picked up on the condition that the smaller, younger girl was in, and felt pity for her. It wasn't typical that Luisa would be so intent on being nice to someone who had… ruined her favorite shirt; but there was something else about this girl, something the piqued her interest. A dark haired man was approaching the pair, wearing a suit, his coat unbuttoned; obviously just getting off of work.

Beca's eyes widened, her brows coming together, and her lips pressed together. Luisa noticed this immediately, and was going to say something to the man, but it was too late. "Luisa!" he called, "Wer is das?"

"Pieter! Ruhe!" she shot at him, and he simply shrugged. A smile crossed his face when he spotted the small brunette girl, and he pushed an elbow into the blonde playfully. "Sie sieht aus wie ein verängstigtes maus," he laughed, which only made Beca more uncomfortable. The older woman shot him a glare, which then indeed made the man shut his trap.

"I apologize for my… friend," she said, noticing the girl's posture and facial expressions. "Let me get you something to eat, I insist." Beca didn't want to turn down a free meal; but there was something about this pair that made her both feel safe, but extremely uncomfortable and unsafe. The brunette could only nod, and flinched as the blonde took her hand. "O-okay…"

Translations:
Wer ist das? – Who is this?
Ruhe! – Be quiet!
Sie sieht aus wie ein verängstigtes maus. – She looks like a scared mouse.