Miles eyeballed the overly friendly woman holding open the door in front of him. Looking for a bible. Only time anyone had ever been THAT chipper to see his short behind.

No… no crosses or little booklets or those annoying little WWJD bracelets to be seen. Okay… maybe just a lot of coffee.

“Yes… yes I am of sorts… thanks…” his speech was broken… still waiting for some spiel. He didn’t share his name back. Never give them your name. The fairytale books were right for that pointer at least. Even if the demons were replaced by Jehovah’s Witnesses. They still wanted you to sign on he dotted line with your own blood, he was sure.

Once inside… it was darker, but it was actually cleaner then a lot of shelters he’d been at… less crowded… but then again, even amongst homeless, some wouldn’t like sharing dinner with the frog skinned guy he saw sitting at one of the tables. He was feeling that little buzz in his guts again. That one where you were someplace new…. He was always someplace new.. but he really got that frightened but excited buzz when you saw the potential of a place to rest for awhile. Sure, it was no all defining purpose of a feeling… but it was like when you’ve been camping for a long time, then you get to stay at a motel for a few days before you go back to camping. A relief, but you know it’s only for a little while.

He took his hood off… it was to hot in here to keep it on… It was cleaner then a lot of shelters… and didn’t reek of piss, but it was still musty and dirty smelling to a point. Stuffy. He also picked off his gloves, shoving them into one of many oversized coat pockets.

Was it a bad sign the smell of bleach actually freaked him out now?

Ugh.. hood hair… stuck in one position so long it actually hurt when you ruffled it out… oh… gross...

“You got any showers in here actually?” he didn’t turn to talk to the girl that let him in, but spoke to her anyway. Didn’t think to turn. He knew she was there. “I can style my own hair right now…” he wiped his hands on his pants… not that it did much for getting the grease off. Shit he was glad he at least didn’t stink. He FELT like he should though… but he just smelled like… dirt.

“Oh… umm.. yeah… I’m guessing this is not a problem here…? “ he weaved a non-hair slimed hand at his face, or more specifically, at the glowing lines all over it, climbing down his neck, back into his hairline, all over his hand, and disappearing beneath his clothes.



------------------------ --------------------------



The door to the back room the not-so-wily teenagers had been trying to get into and a massive wall of a man ducked to not wail his head on the top of the door frame. He didn’t look as frightening as he usually did, forgoing the huge trench coat he usually wore and simply dressed in shirt and pants… but at seven feet something tall, dark skin and black ink, Teeth never looked like a freaking Easter Bunny either. There were three DVD cases cradled in one large hand.

“Alright Vid Girl… “ he laid the cases down on the counter. “These three from the back, and what were those specials you told me about comin’ in? I am in some insane need of some obscure little titles… the internet has been failing me the past few days…. Mopho’s I’ve visited this week can NOT seem to pay their net bills… got five TV’s to sell ya, but no net. Damn shame….”