Responsibility was not her forte; at least, she didn't allow it to be. Not these days. It was far easier to simply 'bestow that honor' upon someone else while she drank herself away for the umpteenth time. She didn't have the energy to babysit a group of people who wouldn't remember her name after a few hours. Hell, she wouldn't remember her name after a few hours, if she had her way.

Really, she supposed being a leader of a lodging house automatically subjected one to obligations and things of the like. However, previously she had been pretty keen on dumping said duties on Chad and just keeping the title. After all, as long as he kept working and she kept avoiding work, neither would get hurt in the crossfire of arguments, and neither would have to deal with the fact that he was trying to move on, and she was drowning her inability to do so in bitter substances.

A few months after moving to Manhattan, Chad, or Ruin, and Relic became the leaders of the lodging house they now resided in, which suited them just fine. After all, Relic at least had some semblance of control over other people, even if she often didn't have control over herself. Ruin pushed himself, keeping the books in order and maintaining organization in order to forget what he didn't understand, block out what he didn't want to, and hope Relic, in turn did the same.

However rare, though, an occasion in which she was forced to feign responsibility would, sooner or later, creep up on her, and today proved to be one of those occasions. Despite the bright sun and the decent breakfast, selling had been poor and her blood was raging in its rare, alcohol-free state, making her even more tense than usual. Irritably she paced there in the lobby, waiting for the influx of new arrivals to come in and enjoy the free tour of nothing to look at, where they'd be spending the next few years of their miserable lives.

He was never one for goodbyes, or much heartfelt anythings, as he casually smiled and turned away from the Hell's Kitchen streets and his house mates in hopes of, well, he wasn't quite sure yet. There mere presence of hope at this point was questionable, but he blocked out the thought and walked the hour from the bitter neighborhood streets he'd known and been subject to for years to the unfamiliar territory of Tribeca. He had needed to leave, and everyone around him breathed a sigh of relief and inwardly pleaded to some sort of higher power that the distance from the caustic familiarity would do him good.

Foreign as it may be, the lower Manhattan streets provided some comfort in that they held a lack of gangs and, most importantly, his best friend. Milo "Satire" Verik had felt the desire to leave the unforgiving streets of West Side's butchers' district and happened upon the Manhattan Lodging House in an effort to lead a normal life, or as normal as a newsie could. Initially not understanding his friend's decision, Dusk found himself grateful for it now as he walked inside, finding only a slightly irritated girl pacing before him.

Deciding it best not to interrupt the girl in her agitated thoughts, he moved toward the ledger, signing his name and sitting on the lobby desk, lighting a cigarette. If he was going to be in unfamiliar territory, he was at least going to try to feel as at home as possible. At least until the girl stopped pacing...

Arching an eyebrow at the intruder, or, well, she supposed new lodger, Relic decided if she had to she should at least try to be...what's the word? Congenial? Well, maybe not that, but at least decent...in her own way, of course.

"Hey, I'm Relic. Who the he-" she started, then realized her wording, and the look of the man she was giving lip to and decided to show some sort of manners. "What's your name?"

"Dusk," he said simply, in a quiet voice. As uncomfortable as he was, his face remained calm as he exhaled the smoke from his cigarette away from her direction.

"Anything you need or want to know or..." yeah, this was a bit awkward. Damn it, this was the last time she did meet and greet with people she wouldn't think twice about otherwise.

Noticing her own reserve demeanor, he decided it best to at least show something other than a quiet street thug in her territory. "Only what bet did you lose getting stuck with greeting duty," he told her, faint hint of a smirk showing through as he offered her a cigarette.

Taking it gratefully, putting it away for later, she simply shrugged. This kid ain't half bad, she thought...considering she'd rather be making friends with a shot of hard liquor than showing him the ropes.

Any actual response was cut off by an onslaught of younger girls entering the lodging house, the one's she had initially been told to show around the place and tell them which bunk was theirs. Sighing, she went back to leader mode, showing them to the ledger and instructing them on this, that, and the other, Dusk jumping down from the desk so he wasn't right in the middle of it. Half listening to the conversations at hand, he wondered if this was such a good idea, thinking he'd probably fair better in a place stock full of gang violence rather than adolescent girls.

"...And the leader who showed you around gets ten percent of your weekly earnings. You can give it to me between five and six, but I'm not really picky about the times. I'm a lot more lenient than some of the other leaders, so you pretty much lucked out," she finished, as if this last was a true rule. Hey, you never know, someone might be gullible enough to believe her. That is until...

"You don't have to give her anything," interrupted Chad as he casually walked down to the lobby. He had been conned into fixing a hole in the floor that had been caused by the same person who was doing some conning of her own to the new lodgers.

"Spoil sport," Relic mumbled under her breath, catching a look from Ruin before smiling innocently at him. Rolling his eyes, Ruin opted not to grace her insult with one of his own, mainly because he'd found over the years the chances of it getting him anywhere were slim to none.

"I'm Ruin, and the other two leaders are around here somewhere. Catch a girl by the name of Blaze or a guy by the name of Glory, and you've found them. Need anything, ask one of us, or Jade, if you can find her," he finished.

"Right, well..." with that, Relic patted him on the back and slipped out before he could object. Hey, payback for ruining her fun, or something. Besides, she needed a drink, and he had things covered. It had always been the rule that whenever he finished with his job, he could finish hers. Well, it had been her rule, anyway.

Dusk decided to slip past the fluttering of preteen and barely teenage girls, greeting Ruin in an almost relieved fashion, Ruin doing the same.

"Are they all like this?" Dusk asked, warily of his decision. He had lived with girls, that was true, but there was apparently a difference between Hell's Kitchen girls and the group that had surrounded him.

"Those that aren't are a lot worse, trust me," Ruin laughed, before showing him his bunk, allowing him to set his belongings down and survey the area. Worse? Dusk could deal with anything, almost, but flighty princesses was something he hadn't planned on living in a ten mile radius of, let alone in the same building. "You get used to the younger ones, or ignore them whichever suits you. Those that don't irritate you, provide comic relief, I suppose, but, then again, you did just see Relic."

"Anything else I need to watch out for?" Dusk asked, almost acrophobic of the entire situation and his decision.

"Not really. You tend to learn quick who you can and shouldn't talk to. You know anyone around here?"

"Milo, or Satire, actually," Dusk shrugged.

"Yeah, he's one of the better ones, if you can believe it. Though he's settled down with his girlfriend, Snooza. Getting pretty serious, apparently..."

"Satire and serious never go in the same sentence together," he replied with a slight chuckle.

Ruin laughed before leaving him to fix the plumbing in the girl's washroom. Last time he let Relic "fix" anything with pipes...though he had vowed that since their orphanage days, and she always managed to find the damn wrench.

Climbing up to the roof as the sun began to set over the skyline of Manhattan, Dusk felt a drop in his stomach. Could he handle this? He needed some sort of familiarity, some sort of comfort until he became adjusted to his new surroundings. As the orange hues gave way to purple, he climbed down the fire escape and strolled the streets below. He needed routine, habit, something he had known for years to help him adapt to this new way of life he was trying to lead.

His walk led him back to the streets of Hell's Kitchen that he knew like the back of his hand, to the warehouse where the Gophers and their leader Mallet Murphy, frequently stayed to relax and allude authorities. He just needed another hit, another nameless person to vent his aggression on through brass knuckles and a lead pipe. With this necessity clouding his mind, before he knew it he had a few extra dollars in his pocket and was off to perform another hit...