Alternative Universe. Based on a roleplay, thus this is a collaboration.

Fleeting Demyx x OC. NOT LARMYX.

The alleyway was dark, cold, and damp, just like the sky above. Greyish snow floated down, piling in heaps and dunes over the slums of this city, chilling a fifteen-year old Dyme to the bone. He shivered, only in a t-shirt and jeans: he could not afford a jacket, nor natural insulation. Any money he got went instantly to his brother, who was safe for now... He sneezed, making a rather loud sound in comparison to the quiet of the night.

Hardly seconds after he had sneezed, the night answered back. There appeared to be a loud disagreement breaking out down the street, with scrabbling and a heated exchange of words followed by a door slamming, then being pounded upon to a small, furious scream. Dyme jumped at the sudden sounds, getting anxiously to his feet. It sounded like another methhead was being chucked out of their home. Hesitantly, he slid down the alleyway to peer out nervously at the scene.

It was directly outside one of the up-market city getaway apartments; the classy kind that seemed to be in competition with every other building to be taller, more glamorous and attract the most desirable citizens. A bellhop would usually be at the door, letting people in and out and blandly wishing them a good day, but now by the door a shivering girl in nightwear knelt in the snow, bruised and resting her head on the door. She was shouting something about running away and the typical 'then you'll be sorry!', but she wasn't really fooling anyone: she was scared, cold and already regretting not complying entirely with her father's request that she should accept she was a whore and a liar and a godless, worthless mistake.

Going against his better judgement, Dyme crept silently up to her. "E-excuse me," he whispered. "Are you all right...?"

Flinching at once at his voice, the girl glared and barked, "touch me and I'll scream. I'll scream until your ears bleed, don't think I won't. I have no money, no possessions, and my father won't pay ransom so back. Off."

"I don't want any of that." Dyme's voice was thin and frail-sounding; weak from illness, his body was the same. "You seemed upset."

"It's none of your business."

"...Okay." He smiled tiredly at her. "You're right. I shouldn't have pried..." Movement caught his eye. He glanced away and froze, looking over his shoulder to see a group of young men all dressed in black slowly approaching. His face turned paler than it already was. This wasn't good at all. For either of them. "You should get out of here."

It appeared the girl had noticed them too, and looked ready to tell them where they could stick their help too. However, she seemed to get the feeling they weren't here for that. She didn't trust Dyme at all, but she didn't trust the newcomers either. Nervously she began jabbing the intercom that led to her family's luxury suite rooms and called for them to stop playing now and let her back in. There was no reply, even when she apologised and begged. Dyme bit his lip, looking nervously back over at the gang. "...follow me." He seized her arm and began to dart off, just wanting to get her away from them.

"What are you doing? Leggo!" She couldn't do much but let him drag her along though, wincing where he held her on a bruise.

"Shh! We've got to find a place to hide!" Dyme hissed, sharply turning down an alleyway hidden by the dark.

Strangely enough, she wasn't happy about being taken down a dark alleyway in nothing but her nightie by a dirty-looking stranger, regardless or not whether those black-garbed people were worse or not. She tugged against him but slipped on some ice and ended up being pretty much dragged by him, wailing. He instantly stopped to help her up, nervously looking behind him. He couldn't see or hear that gang - cult, really - but he still felt on edge.

She batted at him in a flustered way and growled, "stop touching me. Who are you? Who are they? And take me right back to my parents right now."

Dyme sighed and took his hands off of her, though he anxiously kept looking over his shoulder. "I'm a street rat, they're a nasty sort, and I can't take you back there yet. It's too dangerous right now. Do you know what they do to girls like you?"

"Well I'm the daughter of the boss of one of most influential business companies this side of the border: they wouldn't dare doing anything to me." There was a certain ignorant snootiness to her voice that made it clear she had no idea at all the extent of trouble one can get into. Dyme stared at her in sheer disbelief. "That makes you a target. They'll hold you for ransom and do worse and worse things to you for each second it takes to pay it. Which is why we cannot go back until we know it's safe. Do you understand me?"

"... w...what?" She went pale and glanced nervously to where they'd run from. Apparently that idea hadn't exactly occurred to her.

Dyme looked exasperated. "They've got nothing, just like me, but unlike me, they'll do anything to get it. And they'll want it to be fun for them." He looked over his shoulder sharply when he thought he heard footsteps. "You see, they're not...right in the head..."

"D-don't the cops do anything!"

Dyme quietly began to laugh. "Have you been here long, rich girl?"

At that she scowled. "Don't mock me, you dirty, insignificant air-thief."

His laughter broke off and a darkened look entered his eyes. "The system is flawed here. And just what do you mean by 'air-thief'?"

"You're taking air that human beings could be using."

Dyme gave a snort, though he felt no mirth. "Charming, aren't you?"

"I don't have to listen to this..." The girl got up and stormed down the alley, calling, "I'm going to find the police station and get treated with some respect by people who know what a bath is!"

"What are you doing?" Dyme cried, eyes going wide. "Look, I'm sorry! I was out of line! Don't go out there!"

"I am not going to spend all night with you in an alleyway!" she snapped over her shoulder at him... and tripping over a dustbin, making a huge clang and crash as she and it toppled into the snow.

Dyme gasped as the frighteningly-nearby gang turned to look at them with soulless, greedy eyes. "Get out of here!" Dyme shouted, eyes wide in panic. She clutched her knee but didn't need telling twice and stumbled in a limping run through the snow she bolted. "Keep going!" Dyme yelled after her before running up to the gang, trying to distract them.

Gunfire rang out. At the sound, the girl squealed and put her arms over her head, expecting pain to hit her at any second. She made it out of the alley and onto a quiet street, but left the alley at such speed she slipped on ice as she tried to turn a corner and hit the floor.

The gunfire was soon silenced, replaced by thuds and snaps too distant to hear. At long last, any sounds of a scuffle had faded into nothingness and a badly-beaten Dyme limped into the quiet street, clutching a bleeding arm, face covered in bruises and gashes. The girl had been cowering between two cars further down the street, and trembled audibly upon hearing someone getting closer. She assumed she would be next, and after about four seconds of petrified calm she let out a shriek for help. Dyme looked over sharply at the cars, limping a little closer. "Rich girl?" he called out hesitantly.

Shutting up, slowly a pale faced blond peered out from between the cars. And went paler upon seeing him.

Dyme sighed in relief. "Are you okay?"

"W...w-why are you bleeding...?"

"I got roughed up a little." Dyme shrugged, wincing when he jostled his injured arm. "But are you okay?"

Apparently despite the bruises on her arms, ankles and neck, she had never seen someone bleeding before. Boggling at his arm, she raised a hand and could only wheeze, "... that's... that's fake blood, right?"

"Um...no?" Dyme looked a little confused.

"They did that! Oh God, what if they do that to me!"

"Yes, they did that. They have guns. And that's why I wanted you to get out of there; so that they wouldn't do that to you."

"... oh God..."

"Look, it may not be safe here...we should keep moving..."

This was probably the first time she actually realised her life was in danger here. Shaking, she raised herself onto her feet and nodded numbly, actually scared. "There's got to be a police car somewhere, they can't just not listen it's their job!"

Dyme's eyes saddened. "I told you, they're flawed here...they won't help us." He looked down. "It's a bad place with bad people..."

"... but... but I'm important! They have to do as I say!"

Dyme's eyes only became sadder. "They don't care. They don't care about anyone or anything except themselves. They will let people die because they don't feel like saving them." His voice trembled slightly.

"B-but...!" She wheezed. That didn't make sense to her. Everyone listened to her and did as she said.

"It's different from your home: much different."

"... I-i'm only here because Dad had a business meeting..."

Dyme frowned; what kind of father would kick his daughter onto the streets for a business meeting? "...we should get out of here; it's cold."

Having had a bit of a shock, she just nodded and hugged herself. "... I've... never left the apartment... I don't know where I am..."

That explains it. "I do, and I can find our way to somewhere safer...follow me." He began to walk off.

She shivered hard and looked around nervously. It appeared she had no choice but to follow, and hoping he wasn't about to go batshit insane on her, kept close. "What happened to those guys earlier?"

"They ran off elsewhere. They got bored with me, I guess. We won't run into them again. And if we do, they won't get to you." Dyme turned a corner, sliding down another near-invisible alleyway.

"... why are you helping me?"

"Because you needed it. You still need it."

"Y-you can barely help yourself, boy..."

He shrugged. "I'm not really worth helping. Here we are." He stopped a distance away from a ramshackle, gloomy-looking house. "It... should be safe..."

"... we're going in there?"

Dyme grimaced. "It'll keep out some of the cold."

"Is it safe?"

Dyme bit his lip. "Y...yes. It should be." A new bit of confidence entered his voice. "She won't be here tonight."

The girl tilted her head, still shivering and hugging herself. "Who?"

Dyme hadn't meant to say that; he'd merely been thinking out loud. "...my mother..." He seemed shameful and looked down.

"You have a mother?" She marched on the spot, her bare feet sopping wet with the snow.

"Well, she gave birth to me, but she's no mother..." He pulled aside the neck of his t-shirt a bit, revealing an old but painful-looking cigarette burn. "She's that kind of mother."

"Aren't all mothers?" the rather dry, dead reply came.

"Around here."

"I assumed it was just what mothers did... everywhere."

"That's...kind of sad. Mothers are supposed to care for their kids..."

The girl shook her head, as if he had just said the sky was green. "Not at all. They're simply to teach us when we've done wrong. And fathers are when you're REALLY wrong."

"I never knew my father," Dyme murmured. "Are they worse than most mothers?"

The blond nodded, hands covering her bruises but not really hiding the ones on her wrists and ankles. And those were just the visible ones.

Dyme bit his lip. "...I'm sorry..."

"Just shut up and get us out of here. I'm freezing," she snapped defensively.

Looking a little stung, Dyme silently motioned her to follow as he walked up to the ruined house, prying the half-rotten door open. "Ladies first," Dyme murmured, hoping she would hurry so cold wind wouldn't blow in - the glow of a fire was visible inside.

"And have you stab me in the back? No way! You first."

Fighting the urge to roll his eyes, Dyme nodded and slipped in, waiting for her near the door. Nervously she followed, knowing really she couldn't do anything even if it was only him suddenly launching to attack her, but still, it paid to be wary, and she had no idea who this stranger was. Eventually she went inside and let out a breath.

The inside of the house wasn't near as ominous as its exterior. Threadbare carpeting covered the floor, and a small-but-warm stone fireplace peeped out of a wall with a rickety chair in front of it. "Home sweet home..."

"... you live here?" The younger teen pulled a face of disgust, feeling dirty just breathing in this room. "... I wouldn't even make a rat live here."

"Can't afford better," Dyme said cheerily, walking over to the fire and sitting on the floor by it. "I am a street rat, after all."

She refused to sit down, lest she got some horrible disease. Instead she stood, shoulders bunched and overall posture that of extreme claustrophobic awkwardness and disgust. "C'mon, relax. You won't get much warmer standing that far away."

She took two steps towards the fire then firmly locked still again, scowling.

"Suit yourself," he said with a sigh, getting to his feet. "I'm going to get bandages. Don't go anywhere."

"Was that a threat?"

Dyme raised an eyebrow. "No, I just don't want you getting yourself into any sort of trouble. Besides, who knows how much filth you'll accumulate that way?" Without another word, he turned and walked into a pitch-dark hallway to find bandages for his arm.

"... air-thief..." She shivered and made sure he was gone before kneeling in front of the fire and desperately willing the warmth to reach her.

A little later, Dyme returned with his right arm bandaged. He paused at seeing the girl by the fire, but said nothing about it and sat down a little ways away from her. "...what's your name?"

"... Arlene."

"Nice meeting you, Arlene...I'm Dyme." Though I'm hardly worth one, ha ha.

"You have a name?" she seemed surprised.

"What, don't think I could afford even that?" His eyes held some amusement. "I was named after what my mother thought I was worth. Same for my brother and sister."

"Ah, so it's just a price tag." Somehow she seemed a-okay with that, though her mild scoff suggested perhaps it was an overestimate on his mother's part.

Dyme grinned. "Yup. But it's better than Penny. She got the short end of the stick." A dismissive grunt, as if the talk of rodents breeding was making her a little sick in her mouth. She flicked some dust off the floor.

God, with an attitude like that she might actually be okay on her own. No one would want to get near enough to do anything to her. How he wanted to chuck a dust bunny into her face...but alas; that would be bad.

"How long do I have to be here?"

"We can get you back in the morning."

She glanced at him, choked in laughter, then stopped. "... you're serious? The morning? Seriously?"

Dyme mutely nodded, feeling rather drained.

"... I am not staying here all night, let alone sleeping here. I'd rather be outside!"

"Don't be such a snob," Dyme snapped, quite fed up. "If you sleep outside, you might get attacked, and this time I won't bother almost taking bullets for you!"

"I didn't ask you to anyway!"

"Oh, you'd rather I let you get shot?"

"I didn't ask for you to even come near me!"

"You're right; I should've let you freeze to death out there."

"Yeah, you shoulda!" She got to her feet to storm out.

"Have fun finding your way back," he snapped venomously.

"Fuck you..." She kicked the door so it broke just to spite him, then went back outside with only a parting shout of, "at least it's cleaner out here!"

Dyme sighed and rolled his eyes. What an unpleasant girl... Almost instantly, guilt began to fill him. She really had a low chance of making it out there, and he'd practically kicked her back into it.

Arlene, meanwhile, was peering into a parked police car, already shivering from the cold. It was empty, and it took her a closer look to realise it had no wheels, and was abandoned. Sighing, she pulled away from it and looked around for anywhere that might be helpful for directions back home.

A tall woman swayed as she stumbled on the ice, heels clicking. She was obviously drunk, and the smell of smoke was obvious. She dropped an empty bottle in the road, causing it to shatter loudly. The sound made Arlene jump and let out a small scream, but upon seeing what creature was responsible she decided she did not need attention from someone like that and tried slipping away quietly.

The woman walked right into the police car and she gave a hoarse scream, though the accident was obviously her fault-dark sunglasses obscured her eyes. Blonde hair was tangled and falling into her face, and scarlet lipstick was smudged around her mouth. Upon closer inspection, it was clear that she had once been very pretty, but had destroyed her looks with smoking and drinking. At hearing some movement, the woman gave a rather unladylike grunt and jerked her head up, mouth slightly agape and sunglasses sliding down her nose. "Whozzere?"

"No one...!"

"Liar," the woman mumbled, looking around. "Who's taggin?"

Arlene was now squatted behind a car, trying to hold her breath. She let silence reign, hoping the woman would get bored and leave her alone.

"...stupid fugging voices 'gain..." The woman walked- lurched- past the car, not noticing that her sunglasses fell off. It was then clear that she rather resembled Dyme; her mouth was quite full, yes, hair too blonde and eyes hazel, but her face shape, eye shape, and nose closely resembled Dyme's.

"... Ew..."

As if to prove her statement true, the woman bent over and retched heavily, nearly falling into her own sick. Whining to herself, she began to crawl over to Dyme's 'house,' banging on a wall. Seeing her chance to escape, Arlene got up and looked around before making a break across the street and into an alleyway, pausing by the mouth of it to check she hadn't been seen. The woman gave up on banging and crawled into the house, hoarsely screaming for Dyme. He was gone, however: in fact, he was behind Arlene. He tapped her shoulder. "We'd better get you back ASAP." He sounded exhausted and certainly looked it.

She screamed and flinched over herself at the touch, expecting pain or to be robbed. Finally seeing who it was, she straightened up and slapped him. "How dare you touch me a-and sneak up behind me!"

Dyme reeled back in shock, a large red handprint on his face. Don't hit her back, do not hit her back... "I'm sorry," he said. "For everything. I was way out of line." He really just needed to get her back so her death wasn't on his hands...

"Just... j-just get me back to my apartments... I don't like this place..." Now the fear and anger had worn off a little, she resumed shivered. Her toes were trying to get red-raw from cold.

Dyme nodded. "Stay close." He turned and began to walk quickly off, trying to keep away the cold.

"I'm going to tell Father about this, and he'll go straight to the police and have them purge these streets entirely of all this ridiculous... scary stuff..." Dyme just barely managed not to snort. He instead remained silent and turned a corner, waiting for her. "... do you think those weirdos will still be around?"

"I hope not."

"Are there any others that might hurt me?"

"Maybe." He shrugged. "Don't know who'll be out and about at this time of night...or morning." She shivered again and tucked her hands into her armpits. Her feet felt numb now and she was slowing. Dyme looked back and grimaced; she looked to be showing signs of frostbite and/or hypothermia. "c'mon, we have to keep moving..."

"A-aren't there any p-places open this time of night?"

"If only...unless you want me to break into somewhere and get you some shoes."

"... but that's against the law..." She blinked, confused he could even casually suggest that.

"Do you think the law matters much to people down here? We're stuck in this hellhole and we do what we can to get by."

"... you're crazy."

"Feeling's mutual," Dyme said with a chuckle. Offended, she shoved him lightly, then picked up her walking pace again, storming off ahead. "Oh come ON," he groaned under his breath, dashing back up to her. "Left." She obeyed, but she didn't like it, and still kept glaring at the floor. "And another left. We've gotta hurry or we'll both be in trouble..." Dyme shivered heavily, teeth chattering uncontrollably.

"Least you have c-clothes..." As if to finally punish her for her rudeness she slipped on some ice and went down with a wail. Dyme instantly pulled her up. "And I'd offer you them, but I have a feeling you'd rather not touch them."

"Don't touch me."

Dyme breathed in heavily through his nose, resisting the urge to start yelling. "I'm sorry, but you'd fallen and I thought that perhaps some help up would be appreciated."

"Just don't touch, breathe near, or get close to me, and you'll have helped to the best of your ability." She was back on her feet, though nursing a cut on her knee and looking pale at it. "... I think I need a doctor..."

"It's shallow, you'll be all right." Dyme was trying so hard not to beat the goddamn rudeness out of her. "We're almost there."

"But I'm bleeding!"

"That doesn't mean you're in deep trouble. If anything, it just needs to be disinfected and a band-aid."

"D-disinfect...?" That didn't calm her at all and now she was more eager to get home than ever, looking distressed.

"Yes, disinfect. I almost lost an entire arm once from infection...but you should be okay. I think." He couldn't help but take his revenge this way, keeping up a perfect poker face.

She actually whimpered and picked up her pace, snapping, "Let's keep moving!"

He waited until she was no longer facing him to grin before catching up. "I couldn't agree more...here we are!" He pointed at the nearby apartment then looked down at her knee, grimacing. "Uh-oh..."

"What? What?"

"It's looking pretty bad now: at this rate, we might have to replace the entire side of your body."

It perhaps worked too well. She gasped, trembled, staggered with a whispered protest... then fainted.

"...oops." Dyme quickly used this opportunity to get all of his laughter out, staggering and doubling over before suddenly straightening up, dead serious. "...can't just leave her there. I'll just have to deal with her." With a sigh, he stooped down and picked Arlene up, shaking her a bit in hopes of waking her. All he got was a soft groan, her head rolling limply to the other shoulder. Sigh. "Perfect..." He looked up at the top of the apartment. It didn't look like anyone was particularly waiting up for her; the only visible lights on in the whole building were those of the entrance.

Feeling as though he didn't belong and shouldn't be there, Dyme hesitantly walked into the entrance, still clutching Arlene.

A security guard was slouching against the wall near the elevator, but instantly woke up properly upon seeing him and strode over. "I suggest you leave, little man. We don't cater for the likes of you."

Biting back a retort, Dyme looked up at the guard. "I need to get her to her parents..."

The man took a closer look at her, then glanced about suspiciously, before leaning closer, dropping his voice. "I'm under strict instructions from her dad to make sure she doesn't come back until tomorrow."

"What kind of parent-" Dyme broke off, biting his lip. "She's nearly got hypothermia, she can't go back out ther.!"

"Just trust me when I say she's better off out there then if her parents get her right now."

Dyme's brow furrowed as he looked up at the guard. "...okay." His voice was defeated and small as he turned to leave.

"Just for the record, we never had this conversation. I got kids that need my wage: I ain't getting fired because I let her within ten paces of the elevator."

"What conversation?" Dyme asked before he left the apartment, feeling anxious.

"... usually... he drives me somewhere far from anywhere..." a small voice murmured quietly.

Dyme looked down at Arlene. "That's horrible."

"... I'm horrible."

I'll say...wait, that's mean. Do NOT grin. "No you're not."

"Like you know me."

"I know enough to know you're not horrible." Deep, DEEP down.

She scoffed and shifted in his arms, wanting to be put down. He slowly let her, steadying her to make sure her knees didn't buckle. "I'm fine," she grunted, shoving him away then sulking off to sit on the bonnet of a car.

"I'm just trying to help..." Dyme said with a tired sigh.

"... why?"

"You should always help those in need, no matter who they are."

"Yeah... and look at you. Try helping yourself first, idiot."

"What, you care?"

"NO."

Dyme grinned a little, but it quickly faded. "My purpose has never been to help myself."

"And look at you now. Nice to see how that turned out for you." She pulled her knees up to hug, shivering hard. A van was slowly pulling up down the road, lights off. Upon seeing it, she carefully uncurled, then murmured, "... should we get out of here?"

Dyme was about to retort when he saw the van. "Yes. Now." She hopped off car and moved to him, hearing people exiting the van and odd, loud calls and teases. "Keep ahead of me," he muttered to her as they walked quickly along.

"Awww, where ya going, kids?" A smash of glass: a dropped bottle.

"Where ARE we going?" Arlene hissed over her shoulder.

"Away from here," Dyme whispered urgently.

More glass smashed, closer behind them. The bottles were being thrown now. "Get your scrawny, no-good asses back here, little shits..." Smash.

Dyme grabbed Arlene's arm and bolted, praying she wouldn't fall. "Motherfucker..." A bottle clocked him in the back within seconds, whilst Arlene stepped on the glass it left. They both stumbled, Dyme yelping with eyes wide in panic as he fell and accidentally brought Arlene down with him.

"We asked nicely, but nooooooo, had to be rude! Didn't even say hI!" Drunken hands latched about Dyme's ankles, dragging him backwards on his belly through the glass before flipping him over. A man was raising a fist to punch him whilst Arlene was quickly back pedalling on her hands and feet from his friend that was merely curious as to why she was in night ware. Dyme gasped, hands scrabbling on the ground for a minute before he was flipped over. He frantically began rummaging through his pockets for his switchblade, but his haste made him fumbling and clumsy. The man began punching, but thankfully was so drunk most of his punches hit the ground by Dyme's head, getting sliced with the glass from his own bottle. Arlene, meanwhile, was screaming as the other guy took her wrist and was trying sincerely to assure her he wasn't going to hurt her. She kicked him in the stomach but he seemed too drunk to feel it and just tried to soothe her, mumbling, "where your parents?"

Dyme struggled violently to get away, accidentally sending his switchblade skittering across the icy ground. He tried kneeing the man's stomach hard, twisting. "Man, you're scaring the girly," his companion mumbled, as if having a headache. "Can't you just chill...? S'no need for the shouting and stuff..."

"Fuck chill, I hate kids who gots no respect!" However the more violent man just spat aside, then grunted, "you kids gemme some drink... gemme drink and I'd like youse..."

"We don't have any drinks!" Dyme cried, desperately reaching for his knife.

He got punched in the face for speaking back. "S'why I said get some, ignorant little shit..."

Dyme yelped, clutching a bloody nose with one hand and reaching for his knife with the other-but it was impossibly far away. A third figure put his boot on it to stop him getting it. And smirked down on him. "Sounds fun. Get us some drink, son, and maybe we'll give you a nice warm place to stay. We've got beds."

Dyme shuddered, withdrawing his hand away from the boot. "J-just get away!" It was rare that he ever got into fights, and he knew that there was no way he'd emerge the victor.

"Way to go give them the wrong impression," the first grunted at the third.

"The girly is hurt..." the second pointed out somewhat sympathetically, patting her and pulling her into a cuddle despite Arlene wailing to be let go. "We have stuff in the back of the van if you like?"

"... again, way to go give them the wrong impression."

Dyme used this distraction to smack the man pinning him down in the face and writhe away, scrambling backwards and slipping. Arlene tried the same but the cuddly one simply patted her head and held her tighter, sighing as the second man yelped at the punch and withdrew a knife, yelling, "I'll have you!" Dyme managed to get up to his feet but miserably slipped down again, looking desperately at his knife under the third man's boot.

"You want it?" the man asked smugly. He lifted his boot off the knife then nudged it aside so it fell down a storm drain. "Oops. Clumsy me."

Dyme's eyes widened in shock before his fists clenched in fury. He got to his feet, managing to stay standing this time, and bolted over to grab Arlene away. The violent one simply slugged him the second he got close, making Arlene struggle again. "Would you calm down? You'll only get more upset!" the one holding her murmured 'comfortingly'.

"I suggest if you don't want my last bottle in your eye - and God I will be angry if I have to use it for that - then I suggest you go get us more. Girly can stay with us, cus she was nice."

"I don't want to stay here!"

Dyme reeled back, eyes watering from the force of the blow. He didn't want to leave Arlene at all but he almost had no choice. "...fine." His voice shook with anger. "I'll get your damn drinks." He looked over at Arlene. "I'll be back," he murmured before charging off.

"You can't leave me here!" she paled, screaming and kicking.

"Evidently, he just did," the third man chuckled.

"Awwwww, be nice. She's upset."

"Fucking kids..."

A/N: Based on an AU RP.