Allen was tense by Oliver's side, obviously infuriated by the obnoxious chomping sounds that meant his hopes of a tasty snack were jeopardized. Softly under his breath, but full of venom, he hissed, "Ollie...what the fuck."
"We should sit down," Oliver civilly suggested. He used a moment to level his breathing before slowly turning around, and lowering himself back into his chair.
"Wow," one of the boys said with a mouth full of chocolate and marshmallow, "this is really good."
"That old lady knows what she is doing, apparently."
"So, this is were you hide out, huh, Oliver?"
The baker turned his head away, directing his statement to Allen, "I do not hide from anything, or anyone." That must have prompted the other teen to sit down with a loud huff. It made their Housemates exchange snarky half-grins.
The porkier boy remarked, "Really? I thought your kind has safe spots that they can be themselves, away from the real world."
Oliver gritted his teeth. "My kind? What is that supposed to mean?"
"Oh, you know, smilers and all those outcasts. You never see them around that often."
"Yeah," his companion tapped his chin, looking to the ceiling. "Almost as if they were some strange, rare breed..."
"Or as if they are brainwashed..."
"Is this what this is about?" Oliver snapped. Allen angrily took a chomp of one of the treats, opting to keep unusually quiet. "I was thinking for a split second that your gang would get over themselves, and put everything aside to enjoy a light snack."
The bonier teen put his hands in the air. "Don't worry, we are. It's just that while we are here-"
"You minus well say what you please, right?" Allen barked. "If this was my bakery, I would've thrown you out before you even stepped into it."
The other duo let out suppressed snickers. "Yeah, but it's not. It is not even Oliver's bakery. It's that old woman's, and she seemed more than willing to pat us on the back and give us free food."
"Good free food," the chubbier boy bobbed his head, and shoveled another marshmallow square in his face. His friend elbowed his side, but the gesture did not registered against his squishy stomach, or he was not paying attention with the warm treats in his hands.
"Well, you have your food," Oliver pointed out. "Is there anything else, or are you finished?"
Porky, the baker remembered his neighbor calling him that name during the apple escapade, let out a hissy breath, and wiped his mouth from the spittle. "There are still some squares left."
Allen snatched them, cramming them in his own mouth as sloppily as the other boy did. "Now there ain't," he managed, almost gagging on marshmallow.
The other pair seemed vaguely impressed. The thinner boy announced, "It is a shame. You are a pretty cool guy, Allen."
"I made my decision, an' I told you already. Then you proceeded to hunt me down fer refusin', an' wound up slicin' one of my friends."
"That was not our doing. I would dare apologize for my cousin's hot headedness, but since your brother nearly mauled us, I'm not going to do it."
"Of course not," Oliver said. "Apologizing is above you."
Allen flinched with a lopsided grin. "Ooh."
Porky snatched leftover crumbs from the empty tray as his companion rolled his eyes at Oliver's giggle. "I mean it, Allen. We're not evil. We're just living as anyone else has to in the real world. It's not a joyride out there. You take what you need if you can. You of all people should know that."
Allen shot to his feet, looming over the sitting teens. "Don't give me that shit. That's what it is. Shit. You guys do what you do for shits an' giggles. My brother an' I had done bad things to survive." He hesitated with a 'I just licked a lemon' expression, but jumped back in before any of the other two said anything, "'sides, whatever happened, I'm wit' Ollie, an' I'm stayin' there."
"Well, Oliver is admirably snarky, so if he would chill out with-"
"I would not do anything. I am happy with where I am, and who I am with." Oliver gestured to the empty plate. "Now, if you are finished..."
Both of the other boys snorted. "Whatever," Porky pushed himself from the table with a grunt. "Keep smiling, weirdoes."
"We will," Oliver shot back with a wicked simper. "Thank you."
"You dropped something, moron," the other boy muttered to his companion. With a sound of exasperation, Porky leaned to one side, and swiped whatever tumbled out of his pocket onto the floor. "Let's go. We have better things to do."
"Then why did you ever come here?" Allen growled, but the other duo hurried and shuffled toward the door. He and Oliver saw Porky jam his hand in his pocket as he passed by, but the baker had no idea what was on the floor, since his line of sight was blocked by the table when he sat. His partner, however, still standing from his outburst, gawked at their retreating backs. Once the door squeaked closed, he gripped Oliver's upper arm. "Ollie, we got to follow 'em."
"What? Why? Do not be so ridiculous. We just got them out of here-"
"That guy just dropped almost a grand of cash on the ground. Why would you need that much if you're just goin' to a bakery?"
Oliver tipped his head. "Maybe they are running errands. Other kids can have jobs."
Allen gave his arm another tug. "Come on, babe. Wit' the way they are actin' out with our pals, an' what that cop was sayin' about kids gettin' weapons, doesn't it add up? The only thing you need that kind o' money fer is drugs, guns, or a new TV. I don't think they're interested in watchin' sports, either."
"That seems a bit paranoid..." Oliver weakly protested, glancing around the bakery for an excuse to do something else. Unfortunately, Anabella liked to keep the place nearly spotless.
"Hey, didn't you say yourself it was better to be safe than sorry? What if they are plottin' somethin', an' it could mean big shit fer us?"
"They could just be shopping for clothes or other safe things."
"Let's make sure. There ain't nothin' wrong wit' that."
Oliver grimaced, begrudgingly rising from his chair. "Let me tell Bella I am going step out for a tad bit."
"No, we gotta go now, before we lose 'em." Another urgent tug. "I'm sure she'll understand."
"But..." Despite his weak protests, Oliver allowed himself to be led out of the bakery. "Wait, let me lock the doors, at least."
With an impatient sigh, Allen jammed his hands in his jacket pockets, and glanced down the street. "I still see 'em. They went that way," he pointed to the opposite direction of the House. The other teens' backs vanished in front of pedestrians. He grabbed for Oliver's hand again, pulling him along as soon as the door knob clicked. As soon as the others' backsides were visible again, they slowed to a less suspicious pace, blending with the surrounding people carrying on with their usual lives.
"I do not like this part of town," Oliver admitted. The shops grew more desolate as they continued, abandoned or soon to abandoned, and the crowd thinned. People turned away from the slums, steering to more livelier crowds and places. It grew progressively worse; apartments had shattered windows and crumbling bricks scattered on the ground from where they broke off from the sides of the buildings. The baker caught glimpses of dark movement in the bare windows, and pressed closer to Allen's side, realizing he was just as tense as well. His free hand was clutching onto the seam of his jacket, slipping beneath the leather for something inside.
The other duo took a sharp turn between two old shops. Oliver and Allen stopped before the alley way in which they disappeared into, hiding along the grayed bricks. They peeked pass the wall, catching the boys turning behind the adjacent building. After a moment of silence between them, a door squawked, and thumped shut.
"I think they went in there now," Allen muttered. "Maybe we can peek in through the front windows." He tossed a quick glance around the squalid environment before approaching the boarded shop. Oliver stayed in his spot, watching him crouch and duck as if he were in a field of lasers that would fry him to ashes. He tried not to laugh, since the situation and his surroundings were severe, but a tiny snicker escaped anyway.
Allen snapped his head in his direction, and swished a hand to beckon Oliver closer. "Why you laughin' right now?"
"You looked like a secret spy."
"This is real stuff, Ollie!" Allen whispered back.
"How real?"
He looked between the wooden boards bolted across the dirty window pane for answers. A counter with an abused register sat before their spot, once greeting customers as soon as they walked through the door. Along side of it, stairs ran to the upper floor, but on the other side, the boys had joined a couple of others that waited between littered shelves.
"Heh, this'll be easy." Allen ducked under the windows, hidden from the range of sight as he slunk to the entrance. "They picked a perfect place to meet up."
"Why are they meeting up, though?" Oliver put his hands on one of the boards to peek at the other teens ambling around the old racks. "Already, this is suspicious."
"So you glad you came wit' me?"
"Not necessarily glad." The baker ducked like the other boy had done, and awkwardly scooted closer.
"All right, Ollie, we got to be super quiet. If they find out we followed 'em..." Allen's eyes widened. "I don't know what they got on 'em, an' I ain't in the mood to find out."
"What are we going to do?"
"When I somehow get this door open without 'em noticin', we creep up to the upper floor. Usually shops like this got an apartment on the upper floors, so we can listen in while they gab."
Oliver gave him a blank look. "If that is the case, then we should use the fire escape."
Allen stared, puzzled. "Holy shit," he cracked a broad grin. "You're a natural at this!"
"Th-thank you?" Oliver said questionably, and watched the other boy scoot pass him, going after the side of the shop.
"What'chu waitin' fer? Come on," Allen prompted, standing once he was out of sight of the window. Oliver still stayed as the other teen went around the building. A few moments later, he returned, with a frazzled expression. "I guess it's on the other side of the shop."
He obviously did not see that there was no fire escape the first time pass the alley. Oliver rolled his eyes, unable to help but smile as Allen knelt down to waddle pass him. "Idiot."
The upper floor was illuminated by a giant hole in the ceiling, and whatever fell through it, crashed to the lower floor. A crater dented the store's lower floor behind the check out counter, and the pair could peer at the other boys lazing around the shelves that were not destroyed. The floorboards were darkened with burns, and Oliver was truly nervous about going anywhere remotely close to the hole, in case the wood was rotten and weak, about to cave on itself.
Allen was less afraid, laying on his stomach to sneakily follow the movements of those below. The baker lowered himself to the floorboards, pressing against them with his palms to test their strength. He crept closer to the hole, stiffening as the wood creaked quietly. It must have been louder in his ears, since the other teen did not move at all until Oliver huddled against him to peek through the gap.
"What are they doing?" He asked, scowling at the boys pushing each other around, and snort to urge their companions on.
"Bein' stupid?" Allen leaned closer to whisper, "Honestly, Ollie, this whole thing screams it."
Oliver trained his eyes on the commotion below. One of the boys baited another who angrily stomped around a shelf to get to him, "Come on! Come on, little guy!"
"Stop calling me little, or the first thing I am going to do when I get my stuff is make sure your knee pays for it!"
"Ooh!" The taunter did a strange dance with his hands held in the air. "I'm scared."
"Enough with the racket," a familiar voice snarled. "You two are acting like stereotypical fools. Would you behave yourself at least until our man arrives and leaves?!"
"Err, yes, sorry, I guess," they mumbled, dropping their antics.
"Ollie," Allen hissed, "That's..."
"I know," Oliver murmured. His neighbor stepped into the light filtering to the lower floor, and craned his head to face the sky.
Allen clamped a hand on Oliver's forearm when he shrunk back. "Don't move," he breathed out, not making any motion with his mouth. "He might detect us if he sees us movin'."
Crookednose pondered the sunlight, letting it push his eyes shut, and play with his pale skin. Porky let an obnoxious burp rip through his throat, causing him to snap them open again with a vile glower. The chubby boy swished a hand in front of his face, and rumbled, "I kind of ate too many marshmallow squares."
"What else is new?" Oliver's neighbor asked almost gently. Their gazes snapped to the front of the store as the door creaked open, allowing more light to dawn across the floor. Crookednose straightened, and put his hands on his waist, which puffed out his chest. His tone reverted to a boisterous bellow, "Have you had any trouble?"
A new figure emerged into view, a suited man stepping into the sunlight. He turned his head up, squinting at the brightness. Crookednose cleared his throat, which retracted his attention. "Whether I had trouble or not, I am here now."
"With our stuff?"
"My stuff, currently."
Oliver's neighbor sighed, and gestured Porky to come closer. The other boy dug in his pocket, and slapped the clump of money in his smaller hand. "Wow, you managed to not lose it this time." He turned back to the man. "Let's see the goods, first."
"Like I would waste my time bringing you stupid shit."
"Hey," Crookednose shrugged, clutching the money closer. "It's risky business."
"I know," the man flipped his suitcase's latches. "The police are already snooping around. You boys need to be more careful."
They did not pay attention as huddled closer to gaze at the suitcases contents. Allen shifted to the side to see what the fuss was about. His eyes widened, his usual demeanor sinking to a look of silent horror. Oliver could only gaze at him in fierce question, obliged to be quiet in their situation. Crookednose deposited his money in the man's outstretched hand once the case clicked close with two distinct snaps. The stranger surrendered his goods, and the boy was taken back by its weight for a moment.
"Like I said before," the man jabbed a finger at Oliver's neighbor, "we are done now. We should not speak to one another again."
Allen tapped Oliver's arm, causing him to jump. "We gotta get out of here."
Oliver was more than willing to comply. He slowly rolled away from the gap, and only stood up when he touched the wall closest to the exit. Allen was already lifting his leg out of the window. "Wait for me, you dolt."
As soon as they touched the ground, Allen tapped the baker's back side, and jerked a thumb down the street. "We got to get back to the others ASAP!"
"What about your brother? We do not know where he is!"
"Dammit!" Allen stamped a foot on the ground.
"Hush!" Oliver repeatedly tapped his finger to his own lips. "They could hear you. We need to leave before that man comes out."
"That means we gotta run!" Allen spun around, and suddenly sprinted away.
"Oh, running." Oliver groaned before taking after the other boy. He felt himself gallop much more awkwardly and slower than Allen, and blamed it on his clunky footwear. In truth, Allen ran like an Olympian getting warmed up; he must have been used to the awful thing called running. By the time they reached the bakery (or when Oliver reached the bakery several moments later), he had his hands on his hips, letting out a light sigh to level his breathing.
"Ollie? Are you okay?"
Oliver shambled pass the front windows, his legs feeling like rubbery pasta. He smacked his lips together, too dry to painlessly say anything. He opted to shake his head, and brace against the glass.
"Jeez, we only got the bakery. We got to get to the House."
The baker pointed to Anabella's car, and grabbed the keys he jammed in his trousers' pocket.
"Yeah! That'll make things go by quicker!"
Allen earned a vile glare at his boosted outlook from the running. Running was supposed to make him feel bad; Oliver wondered if there was something wrong with his partner. However, he did not dote on the other's flushed cheeks and wind tussled hair when they raided the old woman's sedan, getting to the House much faster than they would on foot.
Oliver mustered through his parched throat, "What was even in there?"
"Guns, babe. Way more than they need."