((If you've got a better title, give it to mee! I suck at these...))

Miles frowned, his small figure leaning up against a cold, stone wall. The whole gang of so-called murderers was in chaos. Why you ask? Oh, simply because one of the men had come running into the tavern with a dead woman in his hands. Yes. The group of murderers was in chaos because one of them killed someone. His dark orbs stared hard at them all, his eyes almost in a glare at this point. Miles had been in a lot of gangs within the year, and even though he was only at the tender age of eight-teen, his name was known. Wether it was because he was good for sneaking into places, or for stealing, or for being the worst member of the gang, or even for being kicked out the most gangs, he was known. The "gangs" he had been in could be anything between simple wannabes to thieves to murderers to a gang filled with all of the above. Yet Miles had never seen such a pathetic "gang", he didn't even want to call it a "gang" anymore, because they were more like a group of pathetic wimps. And this was coming from him, the boy who ran away as soon as authorities caught on.

He quickly tied his platinum blonde hair back before walking over to the bar, completely ignoring all the hectic shouts and cries that were echoing throughout the tavern. He sat down on a stool, and waited for the "bar-tender"--he was really just a member of the pathetic group--to arrive. He would go into the whole chaos, but quite frankly he was too scared to. He was half the height of almost all of the men, not to mention younger, and about three or four of them had tried to...do things to him before. Of course, he hadn't let them, he wasn't a weak little girl, but that didn't mean that it didn't freak him out.

"Miles," a deep voice came from above him, and the blonde looked up, "What d'you want? Alcohol this time, or are gonna stay away from that still?"

"I'll just take my usual, still no alcohol. Sorry," Miles gave a short chuckle.

He wasn't one for drinking, and almost everywhere he went, people were trying to get him to. He just didn't like the smell, or even the taste. So he stuck to what he knew best; water and juices.

With a sigh, he took a sip of the newly arrived juice. The "bar-tender" always made some kind of special juice that was simply delicious. Putting the glass down, he looked back upon the chaos. Usually he'd be out of the tavern, and far away. He didn't like the authorities, and he definitely didn't want to get caught, and with all the noise that the idiots were making it'd be a wonder if the authorities didn't show up. But at the same time, he highly doubted it. The police that were touring probably just thought it was a bunch of drunken idiots, not wannabe murderers who just murdered someone. Then again, Miles had to wonder why he was even still with the group. They were idiots, and he had known that from the beginning. He didn't deal well with idiots, and usually left before he could even be apart of the gang.

He took another sip of the juice, then decided, "Must be the juice... I wouldn't put up with these guys for any other reason."

As soon as the last word left his mouth, the door burst open. Men in uniforms came running in, and gathered all the idiots up in but a motion. Seeing this, Miles went to run. Of course the authorities would show! They were idiots, so they wouldn't cover up their tracks!

Jeez...now I'm an idiot... he thought, trying to make it to the back door.

Just as he was grabbing the handle of the door, two large, strong hands wrapped themselves around his skinny arms, and pulled him backwards, then tied his hands up.

"Thought you were running away, eh?" a man teased.

"...Crap..." Miles muttered under his breath as he was being pulled out of the tavern, and towards a carriage that would oh-so-obviously take him to the palace to be sent to jail.

((sorry for the bad post... not my best. ^^; ))