Toris slipped away from the man he had just pick-pocketted. He grinned as he clutched the wallet in his hand, that had been to easy! He opened the wallet, he saw the ID and that it belonged to a man named Bach Łukasiewicz. That didn't matter though, he'd just take a few bucks, then turn it in. He thumbed through the dollar bills, this guy was rich! He pulled out a twenty, then slipped the money and wallet in his pocket. Toris power-walked to the nearest police station to hand over the wallet.

"Hey! You!"

Toris's stride didn't falter. The voice could have been talking to anyone, so he chose to ignore the voice and walk faster. "Hey!" the voice said, this time it sounded like it's source was just behind him. Toris was starting to get annoyed, who was purposely seeking him out? He stopped and whirled around with his hands balled into fists.

"What do you want?" Toris growled. He was faced with a boy-or a girl? Toris examined the...boy. He had light blonde hair that fell to his chin, it looked groomed and shiny. The boy also had emerald green eyes, and he was wearing a shirt that said: Real Men Wear Pink!

"First of all, don't you know it's rude to not respond when someone's talking to you?" the boy asked, quite rudley himself actually. "Second of all, my dad lost his wallet, and he saw you there and he sent me to see if you know something." he sounded like he really didn't want to. Toris thought he saw the boy shyly shuffle backwards.

"Actually," Toris said and plucked the wallet from his pocket. "I have it right here."

The boy's eyes lit up with relief. "Thanks! I thought I'd have to-" then he frowned and scowled at Toris. "wait, you didn't steal it, did you?"

Toris frowned and pretended to offended. "What? No way! Aren't you a nice guy, interrogating someone who was going to turn the damn thing in!" he snapped and handed it to the boy. "Just take it."

The boy frowned a little. "Jeez man. I was just making sure, sorry." the boy said. "anyway, thanks again-?" the boy paused, inderectly asking for Toris's name.

Before Toris could even think about it, he blurted out, "Toris Laurinaitis."

The boy flashed a smile. "Well, nice meeting you, Toris!" He said and sprinted off with the wallet. Toris turned around and shook his head.

"What the Hell, Toris?" He scolded himself. "Why did you tell him your name?"

Toris arrived at the orphanage just in time for dinner. "Ah, Toris. Glad you could make it, dear." one of the nuns, Sister Katyusha said.

Toris smiled. "Of course, Sister." he replied politley. Sister Katyusha was the only one Toris was polite and nice to, she had been his mother-figure growing up.

"Remember, you're washing dishes tonight." she reminded before sweeping into the kitchen. Toris nodded and walked over to an empty table and sat down. He silently pulled out a book and cracked it open to the first page:

Call me Ishmael. Some years ago - never mind how long precisely - having little
or no money in my purse, and nothing particular to interest me on shore, I
thought I would sail about a little and see the watery part of the world. It is
a way I have of driving off the spleen and regulating the circulation. Whenever
I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly
November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin
warehouses, and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet; and especially
whenever my hypos get such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral
principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street, and
methodically knocking people's hats off - then, I account it high time to get to
sea as soon as I can. This is my substitute for pistol and ball. With a
philosophical flourish Cato throws himself upon his sword; I quietly take to the
ship. There is nothing surprising in this. If they but knew it, almost all men
in their degree, some time or other, cherish very nearly the same feelings
towards the ocean with me.

"What's this? Laurinaitis reading?" a voice shouted scornfully behind him. Toris ignored him and kept reading, he flipped the page calmly as the voice continued. "I thought he was illiterate!" Toris glanced over his shoulder to see Gilbert, Antonio, and Francis. Or as they liked to call themselves, the Bad Touch Trio. Why? Don't ask, no one knows.

"Yeah, he is estúpido." Antonio said casually.

"Eiti į pragarą, Tu kvailas Bastards." Toris snapped in Lithuanian and shut his book.

Gilbert seemed unaware that he was insulted and he scoffed. "Ooooh. Toris said something in his stupid language. You know, his parents died becuase they could only speak Finnish-"

"Lithuanian." Francis corrected, Francis being the mellowist of the three.

Gilbert just glared at his friend. "Anyway, the dumm fuckers got into some shit they weren't supposed to, and then got killed. Booo hoo." Gilbert sneered and made fake sniffling noises. Toris stood up so fast that his chair flew backwards. He turned to face a slightly surprised Gilbert.

"Don't you ever talk shit about my parents you fucking bastard. At least I had parents. You where just dumped at a doorstep becuase no one wanted anything to do with you. Face it, you're a nuisance, even your own parents didn't want anything to do with you." Toris snarled at the light platnium blond.

Gilbert snarled and lept at Toris, they fell to the ground in a tangle of fists and kicks. The other kids gathered around and chanted, "Fight! Fight!" Toris punched Gilbert, and he heard a crunch. Gilbert let out a cry of pain and fell backward, clutching his nose.

"Mother fucker!" Gilbert cried as he tried to stop the flow of blood from his nose. "You broke my nose!"

"You deserved it!" Toris shot back. He got up, dusted of his pants, grabbed his flat cap, and straitened it on his head. "Next time, keep your fucking mouth shut. You purvinas kalė." Toris spat and went back to sit at his table silently. Toris saw Raivis frowning at him as if to say: What the Hell, man? Eduard just scowled and turned his back to his roomate. Toris frowned at Raivis right back, who squeaked and turned to face the opposite direction.

"Good Heavens, Gilbert! What happened?" a voice exclaimed. Toris realised it was Sister Alice's.

Oh shit.

"Oh, uh, nothing Sister. Just fell and hit my nose on a chair is all, you don't have to worry about the awesome me!" he said loudly and chuckled.

Toris looked over his shoulder to see the German had stuffed his nose with some napkin and was grinning crookedly. Sister Alice didn't look convinced. "Are you sure, lad?" she asked quizically. "you look like you've been in a horrid fight..."

"Nope! No fight, Sister! Just the dumme Stuhl that broke my nose." Gilbert lied. He caught Toris's gaze and nodded slightly. As if to say, This will be the only time I cover for you. Toris nodded back and turned around quietly resting his chin on the wooden table.

"Anyway, dinner is ready," Sister Alice growled. The kids streamed toward the kitchen to get their share. Toris just sat quietly and pulled out his book again, someone tapped him on the shoulder.

"Taip?" Toris asked without looking up.

"You feeling alright, lad? How come you aren't going to get some food?" Sister Alice asked, her voice holding a note of concern.

Toris nodded. "I'm fine, Sister. Just not hungry, I'll get the dishes done after everyone's finished with their food." Toris replied without taking his eyes off his book.

"Alright," she said, returning to her grouchy tone. Toris assumed she left and was left to mull over his thoughts. Gilbert had lied to cover up their fight, was it for his own good? Or was it because he was being...nice? Toris had no clue, but he decided that he was in debt to Gilbert. He hat the thought, what would he do in order to pay back his unintentional kindness? But then again, it could have just so he didn't get in trouble...

Toris sighed and let his forehead hit the table with a dull clunk. This kindness thing is tough.