Silveя Liиiиg [Sunny]
Oct 15, 2012 13:56:40 GMT -5
Post by semper on Oct 15, 2012 13:56:40 GMT -5
I don’t care too much about being caught, though. What are they going to do to me? Whip me then send me home? I don’t even know if using drugs would be something to be punished for by a whipping.
People really don’t over exaggerate it when they say drug deals are made in nasty back alleys. This place is nowhere near pleasant – the walls look like they’re about to come crumbling down, the stench of mold and mildew, garbage rotting in corners. Before we moved into the victor’s village our house wasn’t too much to get excited over since it was in near shambles, but that doesn’t mean I’ve turned my nose up at anything that’s “below” me now. It’s just… nasty. I figure that’s why dealers request meeting in gross alleys so you can avoid any sort of small talk and have less of a chance being seen in the transaction.
I pull my jacket tighter around me, hoping it’ll bring me more warmth. Though the wind has been blocked off, there’s still the chill in the air – or it’s just my huge intolerance of cold weather showing. Being in this alley only makes the weather seem colder and gloomier than it really is. Not pleasant at all.
That’s when I hear the footsteps: loud and quick. My attention turns to the maker of the sound and, quite honestly, I’m a bit startled. A hooded figure with unruly hair poking out from underneath, and he even has some tattoo-like markings on his face. Reminds me of the one I have on my side that I recently got due to a “drunken adventure.”[/color] I start to wonder if he has anymore but the rest of his body is hidden underneath clothing. He’s got that stereotypical sketchy look that I find most dealers have, but the tattoos just add to it.
”Mr. Goravich. How kind of you to visit me.”
I discretely flinch at that name. In the steel factory I was just called “Goravich,” and now that Klaus is a victor, he’s become “Mr. Goravich.” Not me.[/color] That’s not my name and it won’t ever be. My jaw tightens ever so slightly as I look at him.
”Please, just call me Hopper.” My voice sounds much weaker than I had intended it to be. Mr. Goravich is that boy[/color] that’s changed so much and has stirred up all the feelings like silt swirling around in water. I don’t know if his return was harder for me or him.[/color] All these realizations have reared their ugly heads since he’s come back and they scare me. I’ve tried a lot of methods to cover up and shove down these “grotesque” feelings (well, everyone seems to think that incest is horribly wrong on some ungodly level[/color]) and so far I’ve come to really like the effect the drugs take on me. My hand reaches into my pocket and scoops up the coins I have, but I'm not handing them over until he shows the item I want. ”Do you have the stuff?”
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