NOTE; Well, I like most of this xD Just some fun with Amber.

ZySuDotNet

"Zydrate Support, how may we help?"

She was out of place. She wasn't an addict, wasn't much of a scalpel slut, wasn't Z'ed out of her mind twenty-four seven like half the people here. Really, she didn't have to be here. No reason at all. But Dad had killed every argument. And she wasn't quite stupid enough to beat a dead horse.

But it would be more fun than this.

Hanging out with Pavi and Luigi would be more fun than this. (And that was something, coming from Amber Sweet.)

She glanced over at the addict on her left. The girl was maybe four years younger than her, with dirty red hair somehow stuck to her head, and she was looking at Amber's foot with a frightening intensity, like her shoe was a bomb or something.

Rolling her eyes, GENECo's daughter looked to her right. The man sitting there, well, he was nondescript. Boring. About as interesting as abstinence. So she looked up at the ceiling, zoning out of the conversation because she didn't really need to listen.

Besides, wasn't the Zydrate Support Network her idea? If she was an addict, why would she be trying to come up with a cure for herself? Stupid Rotti with his stupid logic. He'd said something about corporate experience and then started to talk about something boring. About as interesting as the guy sitting next to her.

She could be out doing something. Doing somebody. Doing anything but this.

The guy beside her was talking. Hello, my name's something incredibly mundane and boring and I'm just like everybody else here only not half as interesting. Amber sighed a little. Really, she had no place here. No place at all. The guy was still talking. Shut up already!

Maybe, she thought, this is what addicts turned into when they recovered. Not that she would care, but maybe this is what happened when you stopped doing the blue. You became boring and faded back to gray.

That would be shitty. (For somebody who was an addict—not her.)

Realizing that the ceiling was gray too, Amber let her eyes dance along the cracked cement, to the walls. Somebody had painted them a while ago, and now it was chipped and looked hideous. The colour made her want to hurl. So finally she looked back at the addicts.

They were all staring at her. Maybe they'd finally realized she didn't belong, that she wasn't one of them. But there was something in their eyes that made her uncomfortable. One of them cleared their throats.

"What?" Amber snapped. The woman who had cleared her throat was taken aback by her tone, and looked around for support. Amber was about to say something nasty about the woman's dress when she paused. The other people in the circle were glancing at each other. The boring guy started to say something, and she brought a hand to her cheek. "Oh god. Is there something on my face?" Ignoring the man, she turned to the girl on her left. "Where is it?!"

The girl looked up blankly, saying nothing, and Amber scowled. Was it that bad? Why else would they be staring at her? The guy was still talking. Something about introducing…admitting. She didn't really care what he had to say, and stood up.

"Are you sure you don't want to stay?" It sounded accusing.

She had started to turn, to leave the druggies to their boring stuff and creepy staring. She swung back on one heel. "Who said that?" Her screech startled the group. Nobody answered. These people were really stupid weren't they? So you quit Zydrate: you become dull, gray and retarded. Maybe Rotti used to do Zydrate. Amber started to laugh before she felt the eyes of the room upon her.

"You tell anybody I was here, my brother will gut you!"

Convinced that would keep them quiet, Amber stormed out.

How's them theatrics? Eat your heart out, Mag. Amber smirked. Her talent—her flair—for the dramatic was clearly beyond compare. The look on their faces had been pretty funny as she left. Most of them had looked sorry. Sorry for offending her, obviously. They knew who she was, but hopefully they'd forget if they knew what was good for them. Maybe not all of them, though: it would be fun to sic Luigi on somebody. On that boring gray guy.

Amber laughed again, and started off down the alleyway.