He watched with a closed expression as Onyx turned and ran for the warehouse, his eyes narrowing slightly before he turned back to watching the road. The water streaming off his nose didn't appear to be phasing him at this point, so he half-closed his eyes and stood there appearing to be almost asleep where he stood.<br /> <br /> "If you're going to go back in there, tell her she should come by my office later. If, and only if, she is interested in my advice. If it's just to chat..." he trailed off quietly, then shrugged. "I'm busy."<br /> He turned, then, as a cab pulled onto the boulevard, waving it down and hurrying toward it without another word to Roscoe.

Before she even had time to think it through, Onyx turned around and started running. <i>Failure. Sloppy. Worthless.</i> These words echoed through her head as her eyes welled up and she began to cry.<br /> <br /> She was usually so strong, so confident... So <i>untouchable.</i> Why did Peyta's words hurt so much? <br /> <br /> The rain hit her face and mingled with her tears, and finally she collapsed. 8 years of being alone and unloved were starting to wear on her, and as much as she wanted to say she was okay, she knew that she wasn't. She pressed her cheek onto the cold concrete and caressed the floor, bawling quietly.<br /> <br /> <i>This is why you shouldn't talk to people, you stupid bitch!</i> Her mind was against her tonight. She gave up the fight and let her thoughts attack her as the rain pelted her back.<br />

Roscoe grinned again as she winked at him once more. "Accomplices? Well, you do seem more confident with a weapon than me, and I can honestly say I haven't gone hungry in years. As they say, practice makes perfect," he said with a smug grin. At the mention of finding a new place, Roscoe perked up. "I may know of a good place..." he began, thinking.<br /> <br /> Before he got a chance to continue, Petya had finished his phone call and turned to rant at them once again. Roscoe's ears flattened back against his head as he listened, and he rolled his eyes at what Petya was saying. "You really don't have a clue what you're talking about, do you, Peter?" Roscoe growled out. "I may only be 21, but I'm alive, aren't I? I know what I'm doing. You risked your reputation by getting drunk and stumbling around out here," he added, glaring at him coldly, "If you were so worried about being seen in a bad place, why the hell were you out getting drunk?" Roscoe folded his arms across his chest, looking Petya over again. "Alright, go ahead," he said with a slight nod at him. "Tell me what's at stake. My life? My freedom? Do you think I don't already know all of that? If I didn't, I'd probably be dead now. I know what's at stake for <i>me</i>, so what's at stake for <i>you</i>?" he asked.

His cell phone snapped shut just in time to catch the tail of their conversation. Frowning slightly, water running off the tip of his nose from all the rain, he huffed out an irritated sigh before turning to them.<br /> <br /> "Look. It's not that I'm not grateful," he started, holding his hands up in a sort of shrug. "You're both extremely loud and extremely obvious, and I can't afford to risk your antics getting me in trouble."<br /> Pausing, he glanced up as a car drifted past on the dark street, a flicker of hope that it was his taxi dying into a resigned slump of the shoulders as it turned a corner and was out of sight in seconds. When he spoke again, his voice was less apologetic and a little more firm.<br /> "Whether or not I'm leaving isn't really the point. The <i>reason</i> I'm leaving <i>is</i>." Glancing sidelong at the pair of younger adults, he stuffed his hands into his pockets again. "If you think I'm such a jerk, go back inside and get out of the rain. I don't really want you here when my ride shows. The more time I spend with you two, the more likely I am to be seen with you by some passerby witness. All it takes is one crime gone wrong, one slip, and my career goes down the drain right behind yours."<br /> <br /> Scowling wearily at the sidewalk, he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, bouncing in place for a moment as if to warm himself after being soaked through...not that it was actually working, but you can't blame a guy for trying.<br /> "You're not very smart about security...or privacy, for that matter. And if you want to torch your life in this city, by all means, go ahead. I have too much riding on not arousing the suspicions of anyone who might happen to glance my way to have a lot of sympathy for someone who doesn't want to take the advice offered to them and learn. You're stubborn, aggressive, and ignorant...and refusing to fix that makes you <i>dumb</i>."<br /> He hesitated a second, running fingers through the water-slick hair on his head...his expression clearly showing just how tired and overworked he was.<br /> "You don't understand what's at stake here," he concluded in a murmur, his ears flattening.

Onyx nodded solemnly as it became clear that Peyta was in fact leaving, whether she liked it or not. She became hopeful when he told her his contact information, though.<br /> <br /> Just as she was starting to feel upset about Peyta's departure, Roscoe came up behind her and lifted her mood. She turned to face him and smiled brilliantly. <i>Friends...</i> She thought... <i>It's been such a long time since I've had a friend.</i> She sighed emptily and decided to make the most of this 'friendship' while it lasted... Surely he would leave as Peyta did. After all, he had a home... Right?<br /> <br /> She apologized to him for disappearing after Peyta and giggled at his comment. "I don't know what his deal is... Pretty ungrateful considering I helped his ass off the floor when he was too drunk to even stand up..." She shook her head and started to laugh. "You know? I like you, Roscoe. Gay or not, you're a fun guy. We could be accomplices." She winked at him again, and this time there was a little more feeling behind it. "It's been hard for me to find anything decent to eat around these parts... It's time I found a new place." She realized that she was probably the only one who was homeless out of the two of them, but she decided that even if he had somewhere to go, she needed to find someplace new anyway.<br /> <br /> "This warehouse isn't keeping me dry anymore... Or safe, clearly." She laughed, and flicked her tail.

---

Roscoe ignored Petya as he stormed out and grinned slightly as Onyx winked at him. True, he was gay, but he enjoyed any and all attention he could get. He straightened up, closing his eyes and grinning widely. "Name's Roscoe," he said, taking off his hat and smoothing his tuft of hair back. "Professional thie-" he started to say before he opened his eyes only to see Onyx trotting off after Petya. Roscoe's ears fell back against his head and he mumbled something inaudibly under his breath.<br /> <br /> Roscoe watched her for a moment curiously, glaring slightly at Petya. He licked his tusks in an absent-minded fashion, as it had always been a bad habit of his when he was annoyed. <i>Why is she so concerned about that snotty carebear?</i> he wondered curiously, strolling up to the warehouse wall. He fixed his hat on his head again after mussing up his hair once more. "Always looks better when it's messy," he muttered to himself, remembering some of his mother's words from when he was younger. He hesitated for a moment, looking around the run-down warehouse cautiously, trying to decide whether or not to run out after Onyx and Petya.<br /> <br /> Finally, Roscoe rushed out into the pouring rain after the two. He did hate to be alone. He strolled up to them just as Petya put the phone up to his ear. <i>Wow, working even while drunk. That is some work addict,</i> he thought, shaking his head while looking at him. He turned to Onyx and muttered, "Just how far is that stick up his ass?"<br /> <br /> ((OOC: Uh...yeah, carebear is the word filter.>.> Oddly enough, I think it would be something Roscoe would say anyways.))

---

Petya hesitated a moment as she called after him, fingers busily tapping out a text as he half-turned to peer at her over his shoulder. Sighing, he waited for her to catch up, his ears flat to his head in clear irritation.<br /> "No," he replied as soon as she finished, his brow furrowed as he turned back to his phone momentarily as it lit up and buzzed. Pursing his lips, he shook his head, then continued in a quiet voice, his tone firm. "I'm not <i>that</i> drunk. That was enough to sober me up a little." <br /> He nodded to the building as he continued. "I don't think you quite realize what sort of knowledge I have about your...well, not your situation, but the consequences for actions that aren't thought through properly."<br /><br> He trailed off, as if unsure exactly how lucid that last bit had sounded...then shook his head and tapped another fast message into his phone as he continued to speak to her from behind its glowing screen.<br /> "He's arrogant, and neither of you are well disciplined. You're too hot-headed for my taste. I don't deal with people who are willing to threaten me without darn good reason..." glancing up again from his phone, he frowned slightly. "And if you have any sense, you'll take my advice and try to be a little less loud. I've seen a lot of young...entrepreneurs, let's say, try their hand in this city. Hubris is the worst way to approach it, believe me."<br /> <br /> Clearing his throat and swiping some rain water from his phone carefully, he dialed some number before turning to her again, one hand covering the mouthpiece.<br /> "Peter Thompson, Burrows and Lee. It's a law firm. I'm listed," he muttered loud enough for her to hear. "If you want to talk, it's going to be somewhere I'm more comfortable. Now I'm going to call a cab, go home, and try to forget this headache."<br /> With that, he waved to her lazily and lifted the phone to his ear.

---

Onyx huffed a little. <i>Who was he to come in here and tell her what to do?</i> Onyx certainly liked her independence and didn't really appreciate a strange drunk trying to tell her how to live.<br /> <br /> The newcomer wasn't all bad - he'd stuck up for them because he obviously knew more about the street life than Peyta.<br /> <br /> She turned to him and flicked her tail a little before striking up a quick conversation. "Could I get your name? It makes these social interactions more personal." She winked at him. Sure, he was gay... But it was always fun tapping into the psyche of men, regardless of their orientation.<br /> <br /> She held up her index finger. <i>Wait.</i> She turned and jogged after Peyta, who had decided he'd had enough of them. "Peyta, wait..." Something in her voice sounded like despair.<br /> <br /> She padded up behind him and slowed, resting her paw on his shoulder. "D...Don't go. You're still quite intoxicated at this point and I worry for you. For the record, I don't know why that is... But I do. So... Stay?" She ran a paw through her hair and sighed.

Scoffing and shaking his head, he merely brushed past Roscoe with a wry little smile, his tail twitching in slight agitation.<br /> "You haven't been murdered <i>yet</i>," he replied softly. "How old are you? Twenty?"<br /> Pausing, he turned back for a moment to eye the younger fellow up and down, sizing him up for a moment before actually laughing, stuffing his hands into his pockets.<br /> "I'm not in your line of work, smartass. And my clients wouldn't be very happy with the way you're handling your particular department. Either of you," he added, nodding to Onyx quietly.<br /> <br /> "I'm not going to fight you. It's not worth it. Just keep in mind that you're not the big dogs around here."<br /> And with that, he slipped out the door and started off down the sidewalk...unsure if they'd care to follow, and not really caring. He just wanted to get away from them before someone called the police. That was the last thing he needed.

"No, I don't smoke," Roscoe said simply to Onyx. He brushed himself off again just in time for Petya's rant. He rolled his eyes while Petya talked to Onyx, then grinned slightly when he turned around on him. "Aw, you don't like my style? And I find it very cute!" he replied, then paused. "Well, at least that one guy did the other night," he muttered with a chuckle.<br /> <br /> "Also, buddy, I know what I'm doing. The only reason I'm in here is because my curiosity got the better of me," he said with a shrug. "I'm also pretty sure I can make it on my own out here. I have for years now," Roscoe added with a shrug. "I've also managed it without alcohol, and from the way you've been stumbling about, I'd say you're more likely to get shot than me," he muttered, still eying Petya. Roscoe glanced at Onyx for a moment, then back at Petya with a sly grin. "You're going on about how we are likely to get shot at any moment, acting like you're so amazingly street smart, which I highly doubt," he said, walking up to Petya. "We clearly know enough about surviving to...you know, still be here, not murdered. Yet, you should probably practice what you preach in this department," he added, leaning in to whisper it in his ear.<br /> <br /> "I mean, I could count the number of times you could have gotten killed tonight, but why waste time on the math for an alcoholic?" Roscoe said, shrugging and turning away from Petya. He walked over to the chair that Petya had just vacated, plopping down in it and getting comfortable.