Officer Sikuyo lead me to a small section of the building, reserved for people in custody. I spotted Bakura leaning against the wall in a holding cell, messing with his nails. My heart sank at the sight. I grasped the bars and swallowed the guilt down as best I could.

"Bakura?" He looked up and approached me, looking happy to have a source of entertainment for a minute. "Thanks," he said. "Those cuffs really pinched my wrists. Do they have to hold you, too?"

I shook my head. "No. I'm sorry."

"About what? I'm not in jail."

"But you're in a cell. It's my fault. I should've come by myself." I heard him laugh. "I made the decision to pick you up. We're not playing the blame game again." He looked at the ring around my neck. "Forgot you had that thing on. Did they ask why it was so flashy?"

I nodded, making a small smile. "Yeah. Did they play good cop-bad cop with you?"

"More like bad cop-loud cop. The guy wouldn't stop yelling about my hair."

"I'm sorry."

"Why do you keep apologizing? It's starting to piss me off." He gave me an irritated glare and I let go of the bars, frowning. I almost apologized for apologizing too much but I caught myself. "Why aren't you mad at me? You should be demanding for me to go to hell and not to ever see you again. You're so… passive. I know you can't like everything I've done over the past twenty-four hours." He paused and took the time to think over my question. Demetre simply stood there and watched the scene unfold.

"Because I like you." He told me simply. "Your mannerisms are interesting. And you haven't made fun of my British vernacular or my white hair yet." He paused. "Okay you haven't made fun of my— well you talked about—you looked at—actually you know what, never mind. Let's stick with the fact that you're interesting and give me time to think about it later on."

That actually made me laugh a little bit. I lifted the ring off my neck and slipped my arm through the bars. "You probably want this back." He took the item from my hand and fingered it, smiling.

"You obviously weren't paying attention to our conversation when you found this thing." I shrugged. "I would feel bad holding onto it." He slipped the string over my wrist, which still hung in his cell.

"You keep it. I'll have an excuse to see you again when I get out of here. Then you can get your answer to that question."

I smiled and pulled the necklace back through, slipping it back on over my head. "I'll hold you to that. I want my answer on Monday the second school ends."

"Count on it." Bakura laughed, before gesturing to Demetre. "You the good cop or the bad cop?"

"Good." He answered. "I don't really have a choice." At that point, his walkie talkie started going off. He excused himself to answer it and I turned back to Bakura. "They weren't biased, were they?" I asked, feeling bad all over again. He shook his head.

"Nah. They had to pull out Mr. Shouts-A-Lot because he kept spitting on me and sent in a nicer chick. Of course, she stared at my hair for a few minutes before getting back to the questions, but other than that, it was fine. You?"

"It was fine. Bad cop kept suggesting we'd screwed in every room of your house and Demetre over there tried to shut him up. It was like, every two questions he piped in with a sex joke." "You should've said yes." Bakura smirked. "Would've shut him up. I got it, too, don't worry about it that much." He turned and walked over to the bed they'd placed in there and laid back on it, arms supporting his head for the lack of pillows. Officer Sikuyo tapped me on the shoulder and asked me to step aside to talk with him.

"Your stories are almost exactly the same." He explained to me, keeping his voice low.

"Almost?" I repeated. "Does that mean-"

"We'll have to hold him for the night until we can speak to him again. You and your friend are free to go, though." "Wait, what didn't match up?" I asked him, resisting the urge to clutch his shoulders and shake him like a rattle.

"Well, it was the event where he shut off the power to his house. You said he ran off and you went to hide in a liquor cabinet, later running for the door to seek help from the mail man." Demetre took a step back, probably afraid I'd yell at him. "But he said that he ran off and hid behind a bookshelf in one of his guest rooms. After he didn't hear from you, he thought you left and was about to start calling for you, when you starting screaming and fell down the stairs, falling out the front door and almost tripping up the mail man. We're now talking it over trying to establish whether you fell and disturbed the mail man or ran down the stairs."

I dropped my jaw. "You're holding him over miswording? I fell down the stairs, I'll tell you right now! What difference does it make that I fell or ran?" "You're not listening. The different stories are implying that this man pushed you down the stairs."

"He didn't! You can check me for bruises!" I insisted.

He pondered this and fidgeted with his baton. "We…we might have to, if you don't…erm, mind."

Bakura cleared his throat, and we both turned our heads. He was standing there with some actual color on his cheeks instead of that usual light complexion for once.

"I can hear you."

Hello there. *blows dust off account*

I know almost none of you are aware, but I have an older brother.

An older brother of which is a douchebag.

An older brother of which is a douchebag that likes to change passwords and not tell you what they are.

So you have to tickle it out of them. And then get punched in the Va-jay-jay.

That is all.

Oh, my brithday's in 10 days. Another year I've fucked shit up on this planet, muehehe.

Okay bye.

-Sneaky