Huzzah! A second chapter! Reviews would be lovely (ever so much thanks to my only reviewer, humanthesaurus - and a fantastic one at that :D )!

I've never actually...been in jail... just thought i'd throw that out there...

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The jail was much more pleasant than Flotsam had expected. In fact, it was rather nice for what it was. Flotsam's only problem was what it was. It was a jail. Or, to be more specific, it was a jail cell. And she was in it. Along with at least forty sweaty, drunken teenagers all yelling and trying to get towards the front of the crowd.

She sank down on the thinly sheeted bed and held her head in her hands. Her ears were still ringing from her loss of consciousness (all she could remember was a police officer and then this bed). She felt something heavy drape around her shoulders. Ink's arm.

"Are you ok?" He asked over the noise.

"Please stop asking that." She groaned. "It just reminds me that I've been hurt - or that I was almost hurt. Sort of a downer, don't you think?"

Ink smiled weakly. "Alright. Sorry…"

"No, no. It's fine." she muttered. "It's just…what happened, exactly?"

Ink blushed a little. "Well, Carl was being a jerk. And so I punched him. And he punched me back…and then there was a police officer patrolling the neighborhood and, when Tirade threw a shoe out the window, he sort of…came over to visit. And, uh, well, we're sort of under-aged. And there was, um, alcohol…"

Flotsam groaned and held her head in her hands. "Wonderful."

"Look, I'm really, really, really sorry about all of this. I shouldn't have-"

"I shouldn't have come to the party in the first place."

Ink blinked. "Why did you come?"

Smooth like butter.

"Um…I was sort of bored…and I really didn't have anything else to do," she mumbled into the lumpy mattress.

"Ah."

Silence.

"So…" Ink began, but sighed as he realized that jail cell small talk was something that did not come easily to him.

Flotsam noticed with a twinge of joy that Ink's arm was still around her and took this moment to rest her head lightly on his shoulder. Her smile broadened when he didn't pull away.

It's just because your hair smells nice…

What does that have to do with anything?!

"Your hair smells nice," Ink commented suddenly.

"Erm. Thanks…"

"I'm trying to converse, here. Help me out."

"Oh. Sorry. Well, my shampoo is supposed to smell like oranges, so that's probably what - "

"No." Sniff. "Not oranges."

"Oh."

Silence.

Awkward silence.

Very, very awkward silence.

Cough.

"You, um, you handled yourself very well. With Carl, I mean…"

"Thanks."

"What…what were you planning to do, exactly?"

Flotsam thought for a moment and, remembering, relished the thought.

"I was going to kick him and run screaming."

"Somehow, I can't picture you screaming." she could hear his smile.

"Internal screaming."

"That wouldn't be terribly effective…"

"Hm…" Flotsam thought for a moment longer. "I wouldv'e run and found you." She immediately regretted saying it and blushed furiously.

Smack.

Ink gently propped her up against him and twisted her around so that she was facing him. She couldn't really muster the courage to look him in the eyes, though…

"If anything happens like that again - "

"Which it won't."

"But, if it does, I want you to find me. I want you to find me as fast as you can and stand behind me so that…"

"SHUT UP!" Carl shouted at a staggering Bureau.

"YOU SHUT UP!" Bureau shouted back, puffing himself to an impressive height and leering at Carl.

Flotsam couldn't help but roll her eyes.

"WHAT DID YOU SAY?" Carl bellowed as he swung at his compadre, narrowly missing and hitting the jail's metal grate with full force.

Flotsam winced at the string of expletives and watched as a tense Ink stood.

Bureau swung a rather massive fist at Carl's sneering face and made contact, sending the willowy boy flying into the wall. Carl grinned manically and flung himself at Bureau.

Flotsam found herself pressed against the cold, cinder-block wall of the cell (She was so enthralled that she didn't noticed herself standing up and moving to this position). Shouts issued from the crowd around the dueling pair as others flung themselves into the fight. Someone smashed a glass bottle against the wall and the bottom shattered to the floor.

MOVE!

WHERE?

Oh…Poo.

The cell seemed to shrink and collapse around her as the fight grew. Flotsam clenched her teeth and shut her eyes, hoping to just pretend it was all some awesomely life-like movie. And it worked. Until the half-broken bottle was flung into her stomach.

Don't cry. Don't do it…

She wrapped her arms around her searing middle and poured all her powers of concentration into her tearing eyes.

"ARE YOU OK?!" Ink's voice cracked as he shouted. Flotsam couldn't tell if he was shouting out of panic or just to be heard over the noise.

"EVERYONE!" A much different voice rang through the shining prison bars. "BE QUIET! RIGHT NOW." And it worked rather nicely, as much as an air horn and a bull horn can work in the way of crowd control.

The officer stood from his metal folding chair, a rather severe look etched into his face, hands on crowd-control tools, and coughed politely (which Flotsam would've found amusing had she not been in great pain). "Now, if you would all be so kind, we would like for the other inmates to get some sleep. We've called your parents and they assured us that they will get you as soon as possible. So, in the meantime, don't speak."

"Are you ok?" Ink asked, the panic still in his voice. Flotsam noticed that his arms were wrapped around her in a sort of protective hug. She pulled away a bit and lifted her arms, gasping at the blood stain that spread across her white shirt.

"No. And stop asking me that," she tried to fend jovially, but swayed a bit and had to steady herself against Ink.

Ignoring the blood, Ink hugged Flotsam against him until she gasped out of pain.

"Sorry! Sorry. I…" And, suddenly, Flotsam felt her feet leave the ground.

So confused. So very, very confused.

"Hey!" Ink fought his way to the front of the crowd and shouted to the guard. "HEY! We need help!"

"I said NO TALKING!" the guard retorted from behind his magazine.

"But she's bleeding!" Ink cried desperately.

"I'm fine. Really, it's not that bad…" Flotsam protested as she slid an arm over the red patch.

"How bad is it?" the aged man sighed, lumbering over to the grate. "Oh. My." he muttered and pulled his glasses onto the bridge of his nose.

Flotsam looked down, thinking she had covered her own wound, only to see Ink's shirt stained crimson.

Shoot.

Yeah. You're gonna pay for that shirt…

"C'mon." And the jail door slid open, only a little, only enough for Ink to carry Flotsam out the door.

"WHY DO THEY GET OUT? HUH? JUST 'CAUSE SHE'S BLEEDING? HUH?" came Carl's indignant response.

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much luck on exams!