Paradise Apartments

Outside the sun was setting, washing the idle, little town in violent reds and oranges. It was like a murder scene, everything soaked in red and still as death.
Rowen's apartment was eerily quiet, besides the chant of the small tv in the living room, playing infomercials at volume 8. The sunlight filtered into the room in dusty, horizontal slashes. They fell over a shabby, wooden kitchen table between the little kitchen and the little living room, and also the woman sitting at it. Her blonde hair was loose, some strands draping messily into her face. She wore a dark grey, strappy tank top under a black zip up hoodie, one shoulder hanging off lazily, pale jeans wrapped around her long, shapely legs. Strips of bright orange sunlight slashed across high, prominent cheek bones, a cute, ever so slightly up turned nose, pillowy lips, and a pair of eyes - oh, those eyes, now looking so horribly vacant. One hand lay flat across the table top near a half empty glass of whiskey, the other bent at the elbow towards her face, a cigarette smoking like incense between her fingers. Need a refill, the thought like a tumbleweed rolling through a bleak, lifeless desert.



Slowly and loudly, she pushed the chair away from the table, the legs scraping obnoxiously across the cheaply laminated floor. Then she stood, grasping the glass of whiskey, eyes still unfocused, frightfully empty. In a zombie-esque fashion, she drug her flip-flopped feet into the cramped kitchen. She went to set the glass on the counter beside the fridge while she opened it to retrieve the whiskey, but the glass wasn't completely on the surface and it fell, shattering across the floor. The sharp noise gathering her attention, her pale green eyes focused in on the broken glass after a few failed attempts. Sluggishly, she lowered herself to a squat beside the shattered cup, staring at the shards a moment, before reaching and picking up a thick piece. She brought it to her chunky, chapped lips and pressed it into her mouth, sucking the remains of whiskey from it leisurely. Drawing it back out to her lips, she glanced down at it, as if assessing its edges. As she stood back up, she ran her tongue over her lower lip, licking away a hairline trail of blood.

After tossing the one shard into the kitchen sink and ignoring the rest of the broken pile, she turned her attention to the alcohol in the fridge. Upon opening it, she felt a hot tidal wave of irritation at realizing the bottle was empty. Fuck past Ruin for putting an empty bottle back in the fridge to mess with future Ruin, she hated that bitch. Her large, almond shaped eyes closed, resignation lapping over her. A trip across the lot to the convenient store it was.

She crushed a few crinkled bills into her hoodie pocket from the kitchen counter as she stomped towards the door to her apartment. She yanked it open, letting it slam closed behind her. Quickly, she sucked down the last of her cigarette as she stalked across the quiet parking lot, before tossing it into a grimy rain puddle as she passed. The dirty concrete under her feet seemed to waver and shift, but she did well at not stumbling, hands stuffed into her hoodie pockets, those eyes of her's fixated upon her feet.

Heading towards their apartment, Lucien’s pale eyes were cast down as they adjusted their dark leather gloves. The fifteen-year-old didn’t really look like they fit in here - they were neatly dressed, their white shirt clean and newly ironed, with dark, well-kept hair that dusted their shoulders and perfect makeup. They walked with an upright confidence, as though they were certain the future held great things for them. Even the rather miserable grey rain of earlier in the day couldn’t make Lucien look bedraggled; their eyes were lit up golden by the sunset and there was an easy smirk twitching at their lips. Their youth, genetics, and natural charm had clearly combined in their favour.

The teenager had moved in a few weeks ago with two others - a man who claimed to be their father, a blond, muscular fellow called Pluto, whose occupation was something of a mystery, but seemed to spend a lot of time visiting different areas of the city with Lucien; and a thirteen-year-old boy, Æsculapius, with dark hair, a lot of cheek, and a strong London accent, a lot more chipper sounding than Lucien and Pluto’s even southern English accents.
In the time since they’d moved in, Lucien had been nothing but friendly and helpful to their neighbours, always more than willing to lend a hand. Æsc was much more reclusive, having little contact with others if he could help it. Although the boy didn't seem to be enrolled in any school to speak of - and neither, for that matter, did Lucien - he spent a lot of his time climbing the apartment block, like a squirrel, and both siblings seemed rather intelligent. He didn’t seem to like his father very much, but he got along with Lucien. The pair were semi-regularly seen together, the genetic link between them clear in their dark hair, strong cheekbones, and similar mannerisms. Anyone looking on would have no reason to doubt that they were siblings - which was, of course, precisely what Lucien had intended.

The small family’s arrival had, coincidentally, occurred a few days after the death of one of the Aeys twins. Given the Aeys family were internationally beloved celebrities - Evie was one of the most in-demand models; Jet was headed straight for an illustrious business career; Gabriel was a fantastic politics student - and the tragic fire that destroyed the Aeys’ families main home had also taken the lives of both Aeys parents, the accident had made international news. The remaining siblings had moved to another mansion, mourning the deaths of their parents and sibling in private.
That was just a coincidence, though. There was no way Lucien Grey had any connection to the Aeys family, even if they did look awfully like the dead twin. Right?

Tucking their gloved hands into the pockets of their long coat, they looked up just in time to see one of the women who lived in the apartment block tossing a cigarette into a puddle. They tilted their head, trying to recall her name. Rowen, wasn’t it? Something along those lines. She didn’t look very healthy, but they weren’t sure if that was just her normal state - and she didn’t look altogether happy, either, which they really hoped wasn’t her normal state.
“Good evening, ma’am,” they greeted her, polite as always. One never knew when it would be helpful to have good relationships with their neighbours. “Is everything quite alright?”

Rowen's pale gaze hadn't lifted from the ground, seemingly only existing in her own, solitary world. That was until a far away voice echoed into her cavernous mind, drawing her slightly out of her own depths, her determined stride slowing to a stop . Her large, puffy eyes shifted up briefly, resting upon the sort of familiar face of the young, pretty boy. She'd seen him hanging around the complex lately, making friendly with some of the neighbors. With an appearance like this, she hadn't expected him and the other two he came with to stick around. They seemed like they would've just been passing through and forgot all about the dusty, sleepy town, but it had been a few weeks now.
Her eyes dropped down to those leather gloves he was fiddling with, then slowly trailed them back up towards his face, her alluring gaze almost predatory as she assessed the teen. Clean, ironed, put together- so wrong in this place.
"Peachy." Rowen responded to him after a moment, her sultry voice rather raspy, as if not having been used in a few days. Everything about this kid seemed ornate, topped with that accent like a cherry on a sundae. She bit back the desire to ask ...why... he was here? He just seemed so out of place. Everything about his being flaunted he was better than this. She bit her lower lip, running her teeth over the hairline slice in it, secretly relishing in the minor pain. "So," She began, choosing the best path to travel. "You guys expecting to stay in Palm Hills? Or just slowly passing by?" Her intentions were mostly focused on her desire to have another bottle or two of Jack in her fists, while a small portion thought since this boy was being so polite, he didn't quite deserve a lick of razor blade tongue. And hey, no harm in admiring a cute face, even if it was jail bait. She removed a hand from her hoodie pocket, using it to brush and tuck some of her pale, blonde hair behind her ears.

Lu stood proudly as she looked them up and down; they were more than used to this type of appraisal, and they knew precisely how to stand to show off their best attributes. They weren't really interested in her as anything more than an acquaintance, or perhaps a friend if she proved interesting, but it was more or less instinctive by this point to show off. In their experience, a lot of the people they had to mingle with for their work didn't particularly care if Lu was underage or not. They hated it, but seduction was an easy way for the young aspiring criminal to get what they wanted.

Watching her brush some of her hair behind her ears, Lu took a moment to examine her face closer, noting the prominent cheekbones, chapped lips, and the way her voice rasped as she spoke. All of these things painted an idea of who she was, and Lu kept careful mental note of them.
"A little of both, I suppose," they replied, with a smirk. "With any luck, we'll be out of here in six months. We want to move closer to the city." Ideally, right into the heart of it, but they didn't say that. "Still, it's an alright place to stop for a while. We've stayed in worse. How about you, ma'am? Are you remaining here or looking to move?"

They didn't want to insult the block too much, given it was Rowen's home too, but in truth, Lucien hated it here. It was unclean, no matter how much Lu and Pluto tried to make their rooms tidy, with too many people living nearby. Lu craved the large, expansive homes of their childhood - but they couldn't go back. Not yet. Not until they'd done all they needed to. Anyway, soon enough they'd be able to move. They were already eyeing up potential homes and offices that they could acquire. Perhaps legally, perhaps not. They hadn't really decided yet.

Rowen pursed her lips slightly as she listened to their answer, a tingle of desire for another smoke tickling her chest. Worse places than this? She snorted softly, her eyes flicking to the building behind her, with its chipping, pepto-bismol pink paint. Liar, she thought, unable to imagine this kid being any level of at ease in this place. Her eyes sliced back to the young teen. She wondered how deep their politeness went, had it been engraved in them so deeply by an upbringing, or was that just who they were? It sure wasn't who Rowen was, but she remained friendly enough.
The blazing red and oranges of the setting sun soaked the rain clouds that had invaded the day, and splashed over the bleak parking lot of Paradise, rinsing Rowen's striking facial features in a warm, golden glow.

"Here to stay." She answered, in almost a sigh. "What's a dump without it's garbage, right?" The metaphor being that she is the trash that resides in the dump that is Palm Hills. A dump wouldn't be a dump without it's heaps of garbage. "You look like you have money." She stated, bluntly. "Can't afford a better place than this?" Perhaps a bit of a rude question, but Rowen was curious, and a very straight forward type of person. Her large, almond shaped eyes narrowed slightly as they focused in on their face. What were they hiding? Hiding from, maybe? Why, oh why, would they choose Palm Hills, if they had the money to stay somewhere nicer? Rowen knew that they most likely weren't bought by the small town charm, friendly locals, and beautiful scenery. "Or maybe your looks are deceiving?" Perhaps not the best way to leave a positive first impression, questioning someone's wealth and reasons before even introducing one's self, but insert casual shrug here, this was Rowen.

Being on the run was not Larkin’s idea of a good time.

This whole mess had all started when their little brother, Draco Cassius, had decided that murder was a really interesting hobby that he wanted to engage in. Lark remembered the first kill (that they’d found, anyway) vividly: huge, blistering boils were speckled all across charred flesh, almost looking as if they were one day going to devour the body whole. It was almost as if the poor victim had been turned into some sort of rotten meat - and the smell. Jesus. Of course Draco just had to have a thing for arson; why couldn’t the boy just use a knife or a gun, or any other normal weapon?

In all honesty, it was only a matter of time until Lark’s brother claimed his first victim. Up until that point, Draco had spent most of his time destroying whole properties with just one flicker of his lighter - he had even managed to somehow bring an end to the local church without drawing suspicion to himself. It was easy, they had discovered, to get away with burning down buildings: you just got rid of the lighter and any trace of fingerprints, but a building, unfortunately, was not a body. The Cassius siblings quickly discovered that they had no choice but to run.

There were four of them. Slaine, Lark, Draco and Jake. By some sort of unfortunate luck, their parents had somehow managed to conceive two sets of twins: Slaine and Lark being the older pair, and Jake and Draco the younger. Ever since the siblings had been kicked out of their original household (with all the shit that the younger twins had pulled, this decision was inevitable), they’d all been living together in different locations. At first, it was sort of decent - Lark adopted the ‘parental’ figure and made sure that their family was going to be okay. They even managed to score themselves a gig at their local circus, flipping from trapeze to trapeze and elegantly twirling through aerial silks, until, for reasons that Lark still couldn’t come to comprehend, their tent was shut down. This, alongside Draco’s crime, was what forced them to pack all of their stuff and go on the run again.

All the way to Paradise Apartments.

So that they wouldn’t look suspicious, the siblings would each travel to their new home individually. Lark would arrive first, check out the area and prepare the house, before being joined by Jake in a couple of weeks. Slaine and Draco would come after - although, Lark had heavy doubts that their little arsonist would follow them. No matter how hard they tried, they just really couldn’t persuade him to do anything, which was fine, but god they were worried about him. Draco was intelligent, sure, so it wasn’t like he was going to get himself killed anytime soon, but still. All Lark wanted was for their family to be safe, and that was one of their driving reasons to why they’d even selected this hellhole in the first place.

They had to get a job. Seeing as they were only fifteen, that was going to be relatively difficult, but Lark had done it once at the circus, so they were fairly confident that they could do it again. Maybe there was a tent around here somewhere - that would certainly be nice. Lark had also considered a career in beauty; alongside their talent in gymnastics, Lark was also extremely skilled in the art of makeup. They would frequently paint both of their siblings and their own faces in all kinds of products that they’d managed to acquire: eyeshadows, lipsticks, eyeliners, blushes. With a wig, Lark was almost certain that they could pass for a ‘woman’. Perhaps they should acquire one soon, to test that theory out.

Accompanied by a small sigh, they approached their new home, a delicate hand daintily placed upon the handle of a medium-sized suitcase that had been slowly dragging itself along the gravel behind them. This case contained all that Lark had: various clothes, a large amount of makeup, toiletries, spare coupons for milkshakes, laptop and headphones. They’d probably have to go out and buy the rest of what they needed - when Jake arrived, he’d bring more money, seeing as his current occupation wasn’t exactly legal. Lark didn’t care in the slightest - that blond could take care of himself.

Their soft orbs lingered over two people in conversation. By the looks of it, they lived here too. Was one of them the landlord? That was probably their number one priority for the day: actually getting into their room.

“Excuse me, hey,” Lark approached the pair, a light smile hinting gently at their painted lips. Conversation came easy for them, almost as if they possessed some sort of natural charisma. Out of all of their siblings, Lark was probably the nicest by far. “I’m Larkin, Larkin Cassius - is one of you the landlord of this place? I’m moving in today.”

The noise of the bike's engine was amplified by the businesses and buildings lining the narrow street, rebounding and echoing up and down the dingy boulevard that was home to Paradise Apartments. Brian feathered the throttle, allowing the machine's engine to idle down naturally as he coasted towards the lot. He'd always loved these moments, that last bit of distance before the end of the ride. It was the perfect combination of the joy of the ride and the relief of coming home after a job. One might even say it was cathartic, in a way.

As he rounded the corner into the complex's parking lot, he finally applied a bit of pressure to the brakes. Crawling along slowly, the bike's rumbling motor beating a steady rhythm, he maneuvered around a pair of the apartment's denizens engaged in a conversation. A young blonde woman, whom he'd seen around the complex a few times since he moved in, and a kid seemingly no older than 16, tops. Brian had to fight the subtle urge to do a double take after seeing the young man. Palm Hills wasn't exactly the kind of neighborhood he'd expect to see a kid walking around alone in, let alone a well-to-do looking one like this.

Shaking his head slightly, Brian coasted into the faded parking spot near his ground floor apartment. He let the motorcycle turn its engine a few more times, then twisted the keys and stuffed them into the chest pocket of his faded gray denim jacket. He looked up at the hulking pink building before him, in all its peeling-painted and grime-stained glory. He'd stayed in some pretty shitty places in his life, especially over the past few years, but this was a whole new level of shitty. To be fair, the landlord hadn't blinked an eye when Brian payed his security deposit and four months advance rent in cash on his first day in town, and the local bar wasn't awful. But regardless, looking at the building that was going to be his home for the foreseeable future made Brian almost want to gag out of principle.

But instead, he heaved himself up and off the bike and turned on the spot. He needed a pack of smokes and some booze if he was going to be even semi-sociable tonight. It'd already been about 9 hours since his last drink (goddamn out of town jobs, he thought irately) and those angry demons were starting to scratch at the inside of his skull. Hell, maybe he'd even treat himself to a bottle of Jim Beam White Label, so long as Aunt Sally's still had a bottle in stock.

As he shoved his hands into his pants pockets, Brian began the trek across the parking lot to the liquor store. He started passing by the two other residents just as a third began approaching and asking them for something about the sleazy old landlord.

((EDIT: Changed a few glaring grammar mistakes.))

Lucien shook their head as Rowen called herself garbage - the metaphor didn’t slip past them. They would’ve called her out on it, but it seemed like altogether too much effort right now, and honestly, they weren’t here to debate with other residents. They were only really interested in creating friendly but not too friendly relationships, after all.
“My father - you’ve seen him around, I presume? He’s a rather tall fellow, with long blond hair? - found a job near here. It was rather a hurried move and this was the only place we could find at such short notice.” They were about to continue their explanation of their looks - and, really they were rather pleased their aesthetic seemed to be paying off; Lu always liked to dress well - before they were interrupted by the newcomer.

Lucien glanced at the newcomer, a slow smirk crossing their lips as they took in the other teenager’s look. This person must’ve been around their age, give or take a year, with some of the prettiest makeup Lu had ever seen, and the cutest smile, and the fluffiest hair. They were taller than Lu - although that wasn’t saying much; pretty much everyone was - but had a kind of delicateness to them and their actions that immediately caught Lucien’s attention.
Maybe they could convince Larkin to discuss makeup with them; it’d be nice to get to discuss it with someone who was equally as interested as Lu was. Pluto tolerated it, and Aesc let Lu talk at him if he was doing something else at the time, but neither of them cared at all.

The roar of a motorcycle brought them back to reality and they figured they should probably stop admiring Larkin. Absentmindedly, they brushed a lock of their hair out of their pale face, before offering a hand to them.
“Lucien Grey,” they introduced themself, their pale eyes looking up at Larkin with clear interest. “If you want our landlord, I believe you’re looking for Tony. I’m not sure where he’d be, though, darling.”

As Lucien explained themselves, Rowen couldn't help but wonder further. Why the hurried move? Must've been very hurried if they had to settle for Palm Hills. What were they running from? Rowen was curious, but not enough to actually dig herself a hole into this kid's past. Lots of people on the run came to Palm Hills, because no one would ever think to look in Palm hills, mostly because very, very few people knew Palm Hills existed. Rowen kind of liked it, the dirty place, the people with dirty pasts made up of dirty deeds that they were trying to escape. It felt like home- Hell, it was home. The only reason it tickled this case her interest as much as it did was the question of what could this polite, proper, and put together teen possibly be hiding from.

They looked like they were about to continue, but another young looking teen came up. Rowen let out a low whistle as the pretty teen approached, introducing themselves as Larkin Cassius. Damn, he was prettier than Rowen, which wasn't the hardest task given her current state, but his dolled up face still surpassed her naturally beautiful features by miles. Her pale eyes glanced back at the polite teen with the fancy sounding accent, who introduced themselves too, Lucien Grey. Lucien and Larkin, wouldn't be too hard to remember, just had to keep the two apart. They seemed like they'd have some things in common, and Rowen assumed in her filthy little heart that neither preferred the company of a woman. She half smirked to herself, imagining a blossoming romance.

"Rowen," She too introduced herself, leaving out her last name. It was never something she was proud of, or liked to advertise. "Yeah, if Tony aint in his room," She jerked her thumb to the right, at the end of the J shaped building, Tony's apartment being the very top of the J. "Then he's at the bar, but probably in his room." Rowen offered, her big eyes shifting between the two handsome youngsters.

Rowen's attention was soon taken by a man on a bike rumbling into the lot and coming to an idle stop. She tried to stifle the seductive grin pulling over her canines as she watched him dismount and begin the trek across the lot towards the trio that stood behind him and Aunt Sally's. Coming to sweep her off her flip-flopped feet and carry her off to a palace of booze, hopefully? Rowen had seen this guy once or twice in the complex and was unsure when he moved in, but she could remember her thrill when realizing a good lookin' biker had settled into cozy ol' Paradise. Man, she loved bikers. It was almost to the point that the purr of a bike and the smell of leather aroused her. Okay, maybe not to that extent yet.
Rowen bit her plump bottom lip again, rolling it between her top and bottom teeth, the sting of pain from the glass cut reminding her to not let her half-drunk state consume her completely. Gotta stay in reality.

...or maybe not. Rowen let another wolf whistle whiz through her lips, her allurring eyes now locked upon Brian as he was passing by. "Hey there, good lookin'," She catcalled with her shit-eating grin plastered on her face. "Thats a real purdy bike ya got there."

With his bike's engine cut, the parking lot seemed almost uncomfortably quiet to Brian. The stillness only broken by his boots moving across the asphalt and the voices of the three other residents engaged in conversation. Part of him was hoping he'd be able to just glide past the impromptu little meeting without raising much fuss or attracting too much attention. But when he saw the blonde in the black hoodie looking towards him, he knew that wasn't going to happen. Although maybe leering might have been a better word for it. He'd seen that look plenty of times on plenty of faces. He'd seen it in bars and nightclubs, at gas stations and liquor stores, and even just sitting at red lights while riding. That look signaled "trouble"...though not always the bad kind.

As he drew closer, the sharp little whistle caused Brian to finally make eye contact with the woman. He took a moment to look her over, trying to get some kind of a read on her. She was a little less than a foot shorter, and even the fairly loose hoodie couldn't hide the fact that she was rather slim. But the way she carried herself, that look in her eyes, her attitude...it reminded him of a lot of people he used to know back in Texas and in the club. Confident, maybe even borderline cocky. He could respect that.

People complimenting his bike had become almost cliche at this point, as far as icebreakers or pick up lines went, but Brian slowed his pace and stopped for a moment anyway. He could have kept on walking, but seeing as this place was home now he might as well try not be a complete ass. He glanced across the lot at the black Harley, before turning back to the woman "Yeah, she gets the job done at least." Ignoring the slowly growing thud in his head as his system began to demand alcohol, Brian took a few steps closer to the little group, careful not to intrude on the conversation between the two other residents, and extended his left hand. "Seen you around here before. Name's Brian."

Rowen appeared pleased at Brian's apparent reluctance to approach, he seemed tired and ready to end the day exactly how Rowen ended all her days, drinking until unconscious. This tickled a small smile into the corners of Rowen's pillowy lips, eyes locked upon the target as he came over to the little group. It was as if Rowen was completely aware of how corny and cliche her lines were, as if it amused her to get on nerves.

Brian, she noted the name in the bleak landscape of her mind, Yeah, that would sound good rolling off the tongue in a moan.

C'mon, Ruin. Behave.

"Rowen." She introduced, removing her own chilly hand from a hoodie pocket and reaching it out to meet his, giving it a firm shake. Up close, the slender woman smelt of strong booze, and oddly enough, licorice.
"You heading over to Sally's?" She asked, magnetic eyes briefly twitching over to the convenient store across the lot, then back to Brian's face. Of course he was, Rowen could almost taste the longing for sauce radiating from Brian. Ah, a man after her own heart. Her gaze shifted back to the two teenagers that had flocked with her near the center of the pretty much empty parking lot. They seemed wrapped up in their own conversation perhaps. (I tried to wait a few days for Joly and oLuna to respond before I did again, so no one was left behind, but I'd like for the post to continue moving fluidly. ) Rowen's eyes then drifted back towards the biker. "I was just headin' there myself. Why don't you escort me." She stated, not quite making an offer. It hadn't been a question.

"I'll see you guys around," Rowen bid towards the two younger residents. "Stay outta trouble. Or at least call me if you find something worth getting into." She said, parting with a smooth wink of her right eye before she turned and began again on the journey towards her liquor. Her flip-flops smacked iconicly across the grimy concrete as she walked, hand digging through her hoodie pocket to find her pack of smokes with the lighter inside. She pulled one out with her teeth, letting it hang off her thick bottom lip as she cupped her lighter-free hand around the tip of the smoke to protect it from wind as she sparked it up.

Smoke escaped her cute nose like an enraged bull as she walked, creating a faint trail behind her before disappearing into the air. As she walked, she glanced out the corner of her eye to her side, where she assumed Brian would be walking if he really wanted to go to Aunt Sally's - or on the opposite side of the lot to Rowen, if he wanted to avoid her.

Brian picked up on the rather unsubtle tone of demand in Rowen's request for an escort almost immediately. He watched her speak a brief farewell to the two younger people and turn on the spot before making her way towards the liquor store. He stood for a moment, watching her take a few steps and fumble a crumpled pack of cigarettes from the pocket of her hoodie. A quick, faint hint of a smile curved his lips. He'd humor the young woman, at least for the time being. Hell, a part of him was even curious to see how this would play out.

He caught up with Rowen fairly quickly and without much real effort, the trail of acrid cigarette smoke blending into the distinct (Is that...Licorice?) scent coming off the woman's clothes and skin. He matched her pace in time to just barely catch a subtle sidelong glance from her green eyes. It was fast, over in an instant. Brian briefly wondered what she had expected to see, and even pondered how she might have reacted had he not been in stride with her. Probably wouldn't spare a second thought, he surmised. Rowen had something of a "Take-No-Shit" attitude about her, almost palpable in its intensity. She could easily have fit in with some of the people in his old MC, at least as far as her personality was concerned.

The pair walked in silence for a few yards, the only noise coming from the muted thud of Brian's boots, the rhythmic slap of Rowen's flip-flops, and the occasional faint crackling hiss of her cigarette as she took intermittent drags. The two of them stepped up from the parking lot and onto the cracked sidewalk ringing Aunt Sally's, and Brian absentmindedly scanned the faded adverts that plastered the dirty plate glass windows of the liquor store. As they neared the glass double doors, he finally broke the silence "So, heard you telling that dolled-up kid how to find Tony. Sounds like you know your way around this place." He broke the conversation momentarily, grabbing the worn handle of one of the doors and pulling it open before continuing "Anything else in particular a new arrival to Palm Hills should keep in mind?" He was mostly trying to have a semi-polite conversation, but he was also genuinely interested in learning anything he could about the Apartments and surrounding neighborhood. Experience had taught him that that kind of info could make your life a hell of a lot easier, and sometimes even save it if things got messy.

"Yeah, I know my ways around." The young blonde confirmed as they came up to the glass front of Aunt Sally's. Rowen slipped into the little convenient store through the opened glass door, giving a nod to the elderly lady leaning up against the opposite side of the counter near the front doors. She hadn't bothered to put her cigarette out before entering, it was still smoking from her plump lips, but it didn't seem like it mattered any. The old lady behind the counter had a mass of stark-white curls in a halo around her head, pink, wrinkled cheeks, thin lips slashed with bright red makeup, and a pair of circular glasses that magnified her blue eyes like an owl's. There was also a cigarette hanging from her own bright, red lips.

"Evenin' Sally," Rowen greeted in a fake, southern drawl as she walked past, towards the liquor section. Sally gave a halfhearted wave in response, barely looking up from the magazine opened on the counter before her. Rowen paused in front of a rack of large bottles, glancing over her shoulder towards Brian. "Anything else an out-of-towner should know?" She repeated, turning back to spectate over the booze bottles, as if trying to select the finest of wines. "Well, it sort of depends on if you're planning to stay a while, or you're just passin' through." She began, grabbing a bottle of Smirnoff and examining it. "If you're just passin' through and lookin' for company or entertainment, everyone mostly hangs out at Shirley's. It's a bar. The most social this town gets is flocking together to get plastered." She returned the bottle to the shelf, swayed a little, and then reached for Jack Daniels. "Hmm, stay away from wandering too far out into the 'Glades. Snakes, spiders, gators and meth cookers galore. That's something to know whether you're stayin' or leavin'." She seemed satisfied with her choice, and grabbed one more bottle of Jack for good measure. She held one bottle under her right arm and the other by the neck in her fist of the same arm, the left arm free to tend to her cigarette.

The landlord wasn’t here, great, but it seemed like Lark had caught the attention of one of the younger kids nevertheless. By the looks of it, they looked to be around Lark’s age - well, at least there was some sort of opportunity to make friends in this hellhole. Lark used the term ‘friends’ lightly, since they were on the run after all. How long would it be before someone tried to backstab them?

Lark didn’t want to think about it right now. What mattered the most was actually getting into their new apartment; but then again, the temptation to just stay and talk to this ‘Lucien’ was really growing. They were pretty, after all. Maybe the landlord could wait.

“Larkin Cassius,” It would be rude to not return the favour, they figured. Rowen and that other biker guy had apparently left the conversation, leaving just the two of them. Cool. Lark didn’t mind their current situation at all. The more they thought about it, the more that the name ‘Lucien Grey’ felt really familiar to them. Had the two met before? Definitely not, but there was just something about them that made Lark feel like they were missing something. Maybe Jake knew them. Well, Lark’s last name was a dead giveaway, so if Lucien recognised them too, they’d probably be able to pick up on that. It wasn’t like the Cassius siblings were the quietest of families. They’d become quite infamous back home. “How long have you been living here?”

Lu was about to offer to take Larkin to see the landlord - they’d dealt with him themself, albeit through Pluto, when they moved in, of course - but paused as they heard Larkin’s surname.
Cassius. Why did that sound familiar? They’d definitely heard it before. Was it one of the criminals who they’d met during the course of their activities? Someone they’d killed?

No, wait. They remembered a teenager. A guy a year younger than them, or so. J-something. Something like Jet. Justin? Judith? Jacqueline? Jacinto? No, Jake, that was it.
Jake Cassius. Damn, was there any chance Larkin was related to Jake? Honestly, it wouldn’t surprise them. Lark was just as pretty as Jake was; if they really were related, they could rival the Aeys family for perfect genetics.
Oh, and hadn’t Gray mentioned a Cassius at some point? Some guy who was causing trouble for him, an arsonist or something. They didn’t remember what he’d said the guy was called, though - Dragon? Draconian? Dinosaur?

Well, either way. They’d work it out eventually - and in the meantime, Larkin had asked them a question. “A couple of weeks. I moved in with my father and younger brother,” they explained, using the same lie they were telling everyone. It wasn’t like there was any reason for someone not to believe it; sure, Lu and Pluto might not have looked very alike, but the age difference was large enough that it was feasible, and Lu looked pretty similar to Æsc.