When You're A Jet You Stay A Jet

             ”Who said that I was s m a r t?”

"Toby, sir. Tobias Ragg."

Sir? Was it appropriate to call him ‘sir’? He didn’t look quite old enough to be considered a man, but also not at the age where he could be considered a boy… well, he was certainly older than Toby, so sir would have to do.

❝Tobias, huh? Big name for a kid as young as you.❞

He smirked and held himself a little taller at the title, feeling a little bit powerful at being treated with respect, just like what a J e t  deserves.

Anne bit her lip nervously. “Just wandering about really…why?”

“Uh, David Jacobs” A pause. “Who are you?”

     ❝        probably. but let’s         NOT test that. ❞

        ❝ THOSE DRILLS are not my

   fault !!yes, i am RUSSIAN, but i am not            responsible for vhat is going on in            my homeland right now ! 

           it is not fair zhat i get treated the             vay i do !! ❞

  his last comment was the straw that broke    the camels back. she was fed up with the    boy’s sickening remarks towards her. with     quick precision, she jabs at the stranger’s    stomach, taking the opportunity to grab his    collar and force him up against the brick    wall behind her. she gives a hardened scowl.

        ❝ you know nothing of vhat you are talking               about ! ❞

❝Tell me how I don't know, just go right ahead and tell me!❞

     Riff's back slammed painfully against the brick,      and he wheezed from the punch to the gut.      He knew the retaliation was coming from the boy,      but he didn't expect it to be so sudden and so violent.      His head ached from the impact on the wall,      but he hid it with a furious snarl on his face.

The boy’s eyes follow the rolling ball that comes to a stop against the toe of his boot. “‘Ere!” Toby calls, taking it in hand and tossing it back towards who he presumed was its owner. 

❝Thanks kid, you're alright!❞

He shoots a basket, smirking over at the boy. He's slightly curious, something that always gets Snowboy  in trouble.

        ❝ what’s it to ya, bucko ?? ❞

❝Why does it matter if I ask. Why don't you just answer me?❞

Anne nodded. “A bit. I usually hang around the lower east side, so I’m really not that familiar with the rest of the city.”

                    ❝—Shit. That’s just great.                Is there another way to get…              even more lost? Is it possible?                                  Will you help me?❞

           ❝I’m… so sorry, I’m just…               trying real hard to be lost.❞