Atalia had been in jail overnight for shoplifting, grown a bit more bitter since the last time she'd seen the light of day, and had a new edge to her. No one would speak to her in the clink, the ward psychiatrist for troubled teens became aggrivated, when she came to simply responding:

"To cut a long story short, I lost my mind."

She'd taken a candy bar from a grocery store, about ready to eat her fingers. Of course, she devoured the thing before they could get it back, so it was all worth the lock-in. Besides, they fed her, gave her a bath, and a place to sleep for 72 hours, what was there to complain? Her cellmate was even reasonably anti-social so there weren't any problems there...

Now she was out, and she lit a cigarette, hanging from her lips as she brought a steady flame from a match to the tobacco. She inhaled deeply, letting the toxic smoke enter her lungs, calming her nervous system, dialating her cells. Yeah... lung cancer never looked so cool. She exhaled, closing her eyes, flicking the burning butt.

His nights were becoming longer all the time. It seemed that teenagers were becoming more and more nocturnal. So for Jerome, it was early. His evenings usually didn't start until a few hours after the sun went down. And it was just setting as he stepped foot outside that evening and began walking. That's what most nights consisted of. Walking. He supposed he could drive, if he wanted to. But walking was cheaper and he met more people along the way.

Jerome made it a point to talk to as many young kids on the street as he could. It was good for business. So when he saw her standing there, smoking a cigarette, dark and brooding, he stopped not too far away from her. He was waiting for his man now anyway. He should have been coming just around the corner in only a few minutes. It probably wasn't the best place to make a deal, so near to the station, but this guy was a cop. And he wasn't the only customer of his kind that Jerome had. Nobody paid attention. But most of them got their stuff for free.

"Smoking kills, you know?" He wasn't looking at her at the moment. His green eyes were staring at some distant point that she couldn't see. Not disinterest in her, but indifference. If she didn't talk to him then oh well and if she did so much the better for him.

"Smoking kills, you know?"

Atalia's eyes came down on the unknown man like hell fire. She was tempted to snarl and spit, but decided against it. She simply took a deep inhale, holding it within her chest for the longest time, before blowing the smoke in the man's direction. "I was planning on it, Jeeves." Rolling her eyes, Atalia brought a finger to her bottom eyelid, smudging some eyeline across her lid, feeling a clump in the corner of her eye.

She held the cig in her fingers, fuming over the charity clothes she'd been given from the jail. A brown tee and a pair of boy cameo's that were two sizes too big, hugging her hips a little too loosely. She constantly pulled them up, wishing for a cord, or a belt or something. She ran her other hand through her hair, and down her neck, trying to work out some kinks in her muscles. "So what do you do for a living? Pick up fresh jailbait?" She crossed her arms, sticking her cigarette into her mouth before stepping back slightly to hear the chump's story.

He had turned to look at her when she spoke and couldn't help but grin at the tone in her voice and the rolling of her eyes.

"Well, we all have our vices," he told her. He certainly had his own. Though it was becoming less essential everyday.

He too had a problem with his pants being two sizes to big, but that was by choice. He unconsciously tugged them up as he stood there, glancing around to see if his client was anywhere in site. Still no sign.

At her question he gave a small chuckle and shook his head, "Something like that... what about you kiddo? Hanging around cops a usual occurrence for you?"


OOC: Sorry it's so short love. I had a bit of a brain freeze midpost.

Wow.

His eyes took her for a spin. Not like a doofy school girl crush spin, but they were so brilliant, just couldn't help but find some kind of security in them. She blinked, security in a stranger's green eyes? Maybe it was because everyone she had ever met with green eyes had good news. Or money. One of the two.

The young women's shelter's manager who liked Ata had green eyes. Until she was shot. Then her whites became red and... Atalia took a long suck at her cigarette, to wash out the memories. No, not now. She exhaled shortly, blowing the smoke through her nostrils.

"Well, we all have our vices,"

Shrugging, Atalia nodded and left the death stick in her mouth, sticking out her hand. "Atalia, your average planning-on-dying human female." Was this a friendly jesture? Exerted by the all human hating Atalia Donatrice? She nearly kicked herself. Maybe it was the cig, they usually put her in a better mood for obvious reasons.

"Something like that... what about you kiddo? Hanging around cops a usual occurrence for you?"

Atalia laughed and shrugged, "nah, they like me too much around here... Like to keep me for slumber parties... and stuff." She raised her eyebrows sarcastically, pinching at her cigarette with her thumb and forefinger, before pulling it away to exhale.

He flashed her a grin as she introduced herself and took her hand, his grasp firm, "Matthew. Just your run of the mill bad things can happen unofficial spokesperson." He let go of her hand quickly, but not without noticing her soft touch, her slender fingers that she brought it back up to grab her cigarette and exhale. He had always had a thing for hands.

Her voice dripped with sarcasm as she answered his question and he couldn't help but smile. He liked her already. She was slightly quirky and certainly different from most people he met. She had a energy about her, one that was muffled by the bitterness, but he could hear it in her laugh.

"Yeah they liked me a lot for that when I was younger. Now they like to keep me around for moral support. You could call me their weekly dose of encouragement," he chuckled softly at the thought.

"Matthew. Just your run of the mill bad things can happen unofficial spokesperson."

Oh, what a charismatic grin he had. Atalia smirked and shrugged, "cute." She watched smoke blow out of her nostrils before opening her mouth to speak again. "Though, rest assure, I don't need a spokesperson to tell me how shitty things are around here." She sucked on the cigarette. "I already know first hand..." Ata shook her head bitterly, her lips curling slightly. Would her bitterness eat at her soul until there was nothing left but a shell? She ran on pure emotion, seldom really thinking things out now... there usually lacked a point to.

"Yeah they liked me a lot for that when I was younger. Now they like to keep me around for moral support. You could call me their weekly dose of encouragement,"

Atalia looked at the cigarette butt, judging how much longer it was going to last. She got a little grumpier when there wasn't a stick of tobacco in her mouth. She judged about another minute or two. She scoffed at his comment, "you too, huh? I'm not too far off from being a frequent flyer... Maybe I'll start getting discounts, or free sit-ins or something." She shook her head, running her tongue over her teeth in distaste.

Jerome grinned and shook his head, "It's not that sort of gig, baby girl. Speaking of which, you mind holding on for a second? I'll be right back."

He had just spotted his client coming around the corner and he walked over to meet him, shaking his hand quickly. That seemed to be all they exchanged as the man walked away and Jerome headed back to the young woman he had been talking to.

"He's one of them, you know?" Jerome nodded to the man that had just disappeared back where he came from, "Cop. He's more of a... client and I'm his provider..." She couldn't miss the indication now. He wasn't worried about her ratting him out. He didn't have anything on him now and even if he did get caught- it was almost certain he'd be able to pull a lot of strings and get out of it. Almost every cop was a dirty cop in some way or another and they all had secrets they wanted to keep as secrets.

"I'm about to head back now. Did you need a ride somewhere? Or maybe... a bite to eat?" Was he seriously asking her out? He groaned inwardly. Did he really have to make it his goal to put a claim on every woman he met? Okay, well not every woman... but he hardly knew her. And she was so young. But he found her interesting and he wasn't ready to part her company just yet. And she could always just say no and there would be no harm and no foul. They'd probably never see each other again.

Atalia waved her hand, letting him do whatever the hell he wanted. She wasn't his mother, and she wasn't someone that was going to cling to him, and make him stay with her; she didn't care. He eyes followed him, and a slight flick of the 'client's wrist' spent Atalia's mind spinning with speculation. So close to a station? Was Matthew really that ballsy? Ata laughed quietly to herself, waiting for Matt to return.

"Cop. He's more of a... client and I'm his provider..."

Then, he confirmed her forming ideas and laughed even louder. "Really? Right in front of the station like that?!" She shook her head, sucking at the last of her cigarette, before casting it down, and smooshing it with her shoe. "Shit... It's worse than I thought. You know I knew humanity and authorities and whatever the hell else was fucked up - but seriously?" She exhaled blowing out a puff of smoke into the sky, shaking her head. "What right do they have to put me in the clink for shoplifting when they are fucking shooting up!?" She felt herself grow angrier by the minute. She kicked a idle can on the sidewalk, and watched it tumble away helplessly.

"I'm about to head back now. Did you need a ride somewhere? Or maybe... a bite to eat?"

Raising an eyebrow, Atalia wondered if he was for real. A drug dealer, asking her out for a bite. Ata smirked and shrugged, "do I look like the type of girl to turn down a free meal?"

Jerome laughed and shook his head at her shock, "It's easier than you would think. They don't pay attention. Not to mention, it's only weed," he grinned at her, "I don't mess with the heavy duty stuff. Not anymore. It's too dangerous and mostly to oneself. It's hard to resist it when you've got it all the time."

He watched as, frustrated, she kicked a can away from her. He could understand her distress. But cops only looked out for their own. And most of those cops were only cops so they could get away with things that other people couldn't. Forget all that "protecting the people" nonsense. At least in his mind that's the way it worked. He'd seen too much to think any differently.

Her answer to his question pulled him out of his thoughts, "Good. I was hoping you'd say that. What are you in the mood for?"

"It's easier than you would think. They don't pay attention. Not to mention, it's only weed,"

Ata shrugged, sighing playfully, "you know, I'm a little disappointed to be honest." She winked at him, wishing she had another cigarette. It was something to do, kept her relaxed, and chewed down her time for having to deal with this dump of a life. She ran her hands through her short, shaggy hair and shoved her hand in her pocket, pulling out her lightner she'd had longer than she could remember. There were scuff marks around the sides were she'd come close to losing it, thrown in down in a fit, or just felt like doing some damage.

"Good. I was hoping you'd say that. What are you in the mood for?"

Atalia bit her lip thinking, wondering what her stomach was itching for. Realistically, she didn't care - as long as it was better than the standard jailfood, she was good. Even if she had only been in there three days, that shit will make you wish you were on death row or something. Ata was a bit on the dramatic side at times...

She put her hands on her hip, as she stood dominately on her right foot, with her hip cocked out slightly. "I don't care - you're paying, it's your choice." She rubbed her hands together in thought, "love to get my hands on a huge creme filled eclair though. Ever had one of those? With the caramel and chocolate..." She rolled her eyes in the back of her head, emitting a long 'mmm....' sound.

"You know, I'm a little disappointed to be honest." She winked at him and he smiled back, shrugging.

"Yeah me too."

Jerome pulled a pack of cigarettes as he began to walk, motioning for her to come along, and then he handed her one. With a grin, he lit it for her.

"I didn't say I wasn't a hypocrite."

He didn't smoke... well not often anyway. He had quit years ago, but he kept a pack on him. In honestly it worked better for picking up new clients. A lot of people smoked.

"As for dinner, I know the perfect place. You can even get that eclair you're craving. Do you mind walking a little ways? I parked my car about a block away from here."


[sorry so short]

Atalia's eyes brightened as Matthew smiled at her. It wasn't one of those schoolgirl giddy 'I think I'm getting a crush,' but a satisfactory reciprocation of a potential friendship. She was content and comfortable around him – she did not feel threatened, uneasy, or like he just wanted something from her. And even though he offered her a charity dinner, it didn’t seem like one of those pity shenanigans that most old ladies thought would buy their ticket into heaven if they bought her dinner and maybe a bar of soap. In that weird awkward way, Ata felt important, being that one individual that inspired a good deed upon another – helping their own mortal soul… When her own soul seemed to fall deeper into damnation. Wouldn’t there be some kind of exchange? That perhaps her own homeless state was out of selflessness for others who needed homes, regular water supply and other material necessities… Yeah. So it was bullshit, but a girl can amuse herself with petty honors, can’t she?

The sight of the cigarette pack – the plastic giving off a little shine; Atalia could only laugh. It was cute, really. Atalia placed the cigarette in-between her lips, where the lovely tobacco seemed to belong, and cupped her hands gently around it as Matthew lit it for her. She took in a big inhale, holding the smoke in for a few seconds, before letting the puffs of smoke be released through her nostrils. “Thanks…” She breathed, satisfied. “No shame in the game, I got a free cigarette outta it.” Ata smirked, holding the smoldering cigarette between her lips, watching the smoke trail up past her vision.

"As for dinner, I know the perfect place. You can even get that eclair you're craving. Do you mind walking a little ways? I parked my car about a block away from here."

Atalia looked at the man like he was crazy. “Yeah, I’m really put out about having to walk more… I just do it when I’m trying to get everywhere else I need to go…” She stopped and let out an exasperated laugh. “Nah, I don’t care, lead the way.”

[This post probably won't be too great but I promise a better one later. My best friend from Guam is here so I'm trying to post quickly for everyone since it's been a while. And I'm terribly distracted. So I hope this makes sense.]


Jerome chuckled softly at her sarcasm. It was always polite to ask. If she had wanted she could have waited there. But then he wasn't sure he'd come back for her. If she was too stuck up to walk around the corner then he'd have changed his mind. He was picky about the women he chose to hang around, most of the time. And he was too chill or laid back to be around someone uptite. But he had known she'd agree before he even asked the question.

He unconsciously watched her lips as she blew out a puff of smoke, marvelling at their perfect shape and the way they fit her face, before he realized what he was doing and looked away hoping she hadn't noticed. It was just another thing he liked about women and he supposed he would catch himself memorizing the lines of her face and the shape of her body more than once. He didn't do it with men. Probably why if someone didn't buy from him often, he would recognize them even if they had come several times. He played it off well, of course because he had to keep his customers. He couldn't help it. He liked women. Not just women he thought he might sleep with, but all women. He liked the shapes of their faces, the way they walked, the way they smelled... he appreciated all the qualities that made a woman a woman. It might have been different... if he had a girl... but being single made it almost acceptable to look at any female he wanted. And in anyway he wanted.

At least this time it was innocent. He wasn't trying to have sex with her. He didn't try to have sex with women he respected and so far he had no reason to believe he shouldn't respect her. If he found a woman he respected, that he was attracted to... it wouldn't just be about sex. And right now he only saw her as a friend. A new acquantince. Possibly a client one day. Or maybe she knew people who wanted what he had.

He led her around the corner and up the block a ways and then took another turn. And there it was parked. His baby. His silver RX-7. He let a long breath and then said with a laugh, "Man it gets me every time." That car had been his dream car since he was twelve years old. He couldn't help his male reaction.

"If cars were women..." he muttered jokingly.