INSURGENT

Nixon's forehead crinkled as he listened. He wouldn't have put it past Kit to try screwing with him for some reason or another, but Nixon knew his friend well enough to understand this was exactly the type of situation he would land himself in. It didn't make sense to him, but it was so Kit. The only way Nixon had ever seen him learn anything was when he fucked around and found out. "You know you have a rich friend, right?" He pointed towards himself, his smile growing once more. "So what? They beat your ass because you owe them a few thousand bucks? You didn't have to lie about something like that. I mean, it's not cool but I doubt it'll be the last time some goofy shit like this happens. It definitely isn't the first."

None of it was out of character for him so he didn't expect Nixon to be surprised, but he was making an effort to be more responsible. It was Tahani he worried about, since he'd earned enough of her trust to be part of their kid's life. He didn't want to lose that over some dumb shit he'd done finally catching up to him. "Yeah and if you bailed me out every time I did somethin' stupid you'd be broke." He cracked a smile back at Nixon then shrugged. "A few to you maybe. I know, but I didn't want T freakin' out. Probably should've told you earlier too, I might've made a deal with the devil." Dramatic yes but Kit was just joking around now, since they'd established this was business as usual for him, and he reached over to take the joint back from Nixon. "I said I'd work for them, like same type of shit I used to do for Damo. Doubt they'll go for it, they all hate me and I think they like kickin' my ass too much."

"She can show mercy when she wants to. Besides, then she would have to explain to Zara why her dad started walking with a limp." Nixon's eyebrows furrowed but he didn't press the issue. Though he'd never heard of someone getting into a motorcycle accident and not being given something decent to help them with the pain. "The fact that you think you have to say that at all is offensive." He rolled his eyes, though that didn't stop him from reaching out for the joint once it was offered to him. He had no idea how Kit, Phoenix, and Lennon managed to land themselves in half the situations they did, but he would've been lying if he said he didn't enjoy it. The messiness of it all had kept him entertained for years. "What's up? You and Phoenix finally decide to take things to the next level?"

"Just checkin'," he said with a shrug. While he didn't always trust Nixon to keep a secret, he trusted him to not cause any unnecessary friction between him and Tahani, knowing he'd rather not involve himself in their dynamic. "If he'd only have me, nah, it's- I borrowed some money, greaser money, back when I skipped town and I been tryin' to pay it back." And by 'borrowed' he of course meant stole. Even at his lowest he let his pride get in the way, and he still wasn't sure he was asking for help, just letting his friend in on his situation. "It was all fuckin' stupid, that's why I did Panic, and I haven't said anything 'til now 'cause I thought I'd get out of it. And I wasn't in an accident, case that wasn't clear."

Nixon tried to stay out of things when it came to Tahani, Kit, and coparenting. It was bound to end with him pissing one of them off, and if he could avoid the issue completely he would. He didn't enjoy being dragged or iced out from either of them for not being on their side so it was easier that way. "Sure, but I'll remind you anyways. You look like shit." He grimaced, eyeing Kit as he moved past him into the home. "It's probably for the best. If you looked any better T might actually cut your dick off. Now she can't without looking like a monster." He reached into his pocket before he held out a joint for Kit. "I figured if you went to the hospital they probably gave you pain killers already, so this is my get well soon gift."

Ironically him and Tahani were closer than they'd ever been, since they never did much talking when they were together. Their relationship was weird, definitely unconventional, but it seemed like they'd finally gotten the hang out of it and co-parenting. He flipped Nixon off as he let him inside. "If she really wanted to she would've done it already. Went to the ER, sat in there for fuckin' ever and they didn't give me any of the good shit. Thank you." He plucked the joint from his hand and tucked it behind his ear for now, having Nixon follow him to the back. His place was a shitty one bedroom apartment on the south side but it was on the first floor with a yard, important for the dog he'd got with Z a few years ago. It was his dog now, he'd fully accepted that, and Zara renamed her after she decided Dr. Pepper was, in her words, something a baby would come up with, so now she was Phoebe. "I gotta tell you something," he said once they were outside and smoking, Kit passing him the joint after he'd hit it. "Stays between us though, like T can't know about any of it."

When Kit started swinging Polo let out a yowl of excitement. Even if he was getting back what he gave it didn't matter, he was like an animal on the hunt, adrenaline sending him into a frenzy. Back in the day when Damo's boys had been at the top of the food chain Kit was the worst of 'em, damn near as soulless as Polo himself when it came to taking a swing. Now, Polo was pretty sure he had more bodies under his belt and Kit was out of practice, branded a coward for running, so eventually he got the upper hand and had Cruz on his way to swallowing his teeth. "You wanna... pay me back... in fingers or toes?" he grinned back, bloody.

Usually he'd share Polo's excitement to fight, he always took the first swing back when it was still Damon's gang, but it was different when it was out of necessity and he knew he was at a disadvantage. Once they really got going though he couldn't deny he was having a little fun, adrenaline dulling the pain of each hit Polo got on him. His reflexes weren't quite as quick as they used to be, when he was still playing ball, but they were there, enough to keep up. Whether or not Kit beat him now didn't change how much he owed the greasers, they both knew that, but he had enough self-respect to fight back, and his reputation was on the line. "Neither," he spat, hacking up some of the blood that'd pooled around his mouth. "Fuck. Toes. Or... give me a number." He paused both to catch his breath and consider what it was he wanted to offer, "Let me work for you. I know... it's more fun beatin' the shit outta me... But I was never jumped out with Damo and them."

"Doesn't it? Your pity means everything to me." He placed a hand over his heart. He gave an over-exaggerated pout to really sell it. Life had been boring for the last year. Not that Lennon was complaining. He found peace in the stillness life now offered. The highs he used to chase were a thing of the past. He hoped it would stay that way. "Twelve labubus with their own sports cars, I'm sure. They're living better than us. Oh, yeah. You and Nixon are baby daddy brothers. Rosewood, small world." Lennon made it a point to stay out of relationship drama. The entire situation was wild to him, but he wasn't about to say shit either. "Yeah, man, can't you tell? I'm no longer a pasty Victorian boy. I have a nice tan to me now."

In lieu of a response he tossed the ball to Lennon without warning. There came a point where his friend only had himself to blame for the low he'd reached, and he'd definitely hit that- Kit was just glad he managed to get himself out of it. At least it cleared his conscience a little, seeing as he used to be Lennon's dealer. "Yeah. We're such good friends we knocked up the same chick." It was a half-hearted joke but a joke nonetheless, since Nixon was still his best friend. "Yeah I can tell, you look good. Like you're stayin' out of trouble. Now I can't say the same for myself..."

While he waited Polo flicked his knife open and closed, the snick of the blade loud enough in the tense silence that Kit would hear it. As much as he enjoyed terrorising his targets, he'd let this job go on so long it ran the risk of him looking soft because of it. As if he'd been giving Kit leeway because he was one of them. If anything he should have come down on him twice as hard. So as Kit came out with the cash, Polo took it, felt the weight of the wad, set it down on the table, and started swinging. "Come on man, fight back! Ain't no fun if you don't fight back!" he goaded Kit, who was probably stunned from being rocked in the jaw out of nowhere.

If he was really desperate he knew he had a rich friend he could call on to bail him out — even at his lowest though he had too much pride for that, and he didn't need to give Nixon one more thing to hold over him. Kit stumbled back a bit as Polo hit him in the jaw then quickly re-found his footing. He didn't need permission to fight back, he was going to do that anyway once his initial surprise wore off, and he swung back, fist connecting with Polo's abdomen, hard. Physically they were about the same size, Kit just marginally bigger maybe, so they were even in that regard. "Don't gotta tell me twice," he grumbled back, dodging a hit from Polo before he landed another of his own.

Polo noticed a few ways in which people reacted when he came around to collect. Either they got mad and tried to fight, straight up ran, or tried to make friends in the hopes it would earn them some mercy. They were wrong, of course, but Polo was still entertained by the attempts. "Might have if you made any effort. But since I gotta keep tracking your rat ass down, I'd say it's fair to ask for everything plus interest." He didn't think Kit was going to try anything, but he also didn't trust how desperation changed people. Still, he had no interest in seeing his bedroom so he cocked his chin to tell him to run along. "You run, I'll kill you. You come outta there swingin', I'll kill you. And honestly I don't wanna do that, so don't make me."

He didn't hold any delusions about Polo being his friend, just like he knew running would only make matters worse for himself, so any joking around he did was pure deflection. "Rat or kitten, which is it. Be right back." His lock box was under his bed, which admittedly wasn't the smartest place for it but he'd find a new spot for that later. As he counted the cash he pulled from it, he considered leaving some pocket change for himself then, not putting it past Polo to barge in and ransack his room itself, decided against it. He walked back out, wad of cash in hand, and held it up for him to see before he extended it out to him. "That's about six grand, little over. You can count it."

"You should be a comedian, Kitten." Polo leaned in Kit's doorway, making it clear that even if he hadn't moved yet, he was coming in whether he wanted him to or not. It had been a while since they'd crossed paths but Polo hadn't let him off the hook. He was goofy at the best of times but that didn't mean he was soft. "Because I think it's fuckin' hilarious how you're walkin' around like you're a free man. I've been busy but I ain't forget that you still owe me. Cash or blood, I'll take both." The statement wasn't a concept, it was a choice to be made then and there. @kitcruz

Kit stepped aside to let Polo in, knowing he'd come in anyway regardless of what hospitality he was showed. Not once did he think he was off the hook, he knew better than that, but Polo getting distracted bought him a decent chunk of time to figure something out. Time he definitely wished he'd had more of but he'd found ways to scrape together some extra cash, mostly stealing and selling car parts. "You take split payment?," he joked, as he didn't have enough to clear all his debts, so maybe half and a busted nose would do. "I got cash. It's in my room, you can follow me in there but I swear I'm not gonna try any slick shit."

"You know what, you're right, man." Leave it to Kit to always remind Lennon what was important. Dubai, whatever the hell he just said, Labubu's would be the next passing craze in a few weeks. With his luck, they probably already were. "Makes sense. Seems like something her age group would like. The co-worker is, in fact, a girl who got too excited while telling me the labubu lore. It was so fuckin' hard to nod and pretend it was interesting because she wouldn't get the hint to shut up. Let me see if they're still trendy. I gotta make up the cool uncle points. I can't bring her a fuckass labubu she won't like."

"Oh yeah, your life sounds real hard," he teased, and scooped the ball back up as it rolled by his feet. If the worst thing Lennon had going for him right now was an annoying co-worker then he wasn't doing so bad, and in fact Kit was thrilled to hear him complain about something so mundane if it meant he was staying clean. "That kid's got so much shit already, she's probably got twelve labubus. But she has to share now, so any extra attention is probably good." He made a quick move towards Lennon then dribbled around him, maintaining a certain level of nonchalance even if the whole situation between him and Nixon and their now mutual baby mama was still weird as hell. "You been gettin' some sun when you're not at that bowling alley?"

"what the hell is a dubai chocolate labubu, and why was someone asking me about it at work?" lennon spun the basketball he had on his finger for a moment, passing it to the other person afterwards. "swear, people are just stringing shit together and calling them words." he could feel the dull beginnings of a headache. the thought of all these jumbled-up words made his writer's heart clench.

"Dude." Kit caught the ball without thinking twice about it, easily giving it a quick spin on his finger before he shot it at the basket behind Lennon. "Who fuckin' cares." The ball fell through the net and back to the floor, bouncing as it rolled back towards them. "I think Zara's got a labubu. Least she did, she might be over it now. Maybe you two should connect, pick each other's brains."

"Kids these days walking around bragging about their Pokemon card collections is just... I'm happy for them but I'm just saying," Penn sighed dramatically, sliding a tip across the counter to the bartender before he continued. Anyone would have thought him a hard done by old man, the way he was shaking his head solemnly. "I think Ram Sweeney bullseyeing me in the back of the head with a slushie and throwing me in the dumpster really moulded me as a man, you know?"

"What, you're mad being a fuckin' nerd is in now?" Kit finished his drink in one big swig then signaled to the bartender for another. Penn wasn't someone he'd consider a friend but they were friendly, and keeping the sheriff's kid in his back pocket probably wasn't such a bad idea. "Yeah, sounds like it, the way you're hung up on high school shit," he teased. "Goes both ways you know. I'm who I am 'cause I tossed a couple kids in dumpsters too."

"Or maybe, and just follow me on this..." Mariela began. "you won't disappoint me?" She said with a shrug. "Maybe I'll have such a great time, because of you? It could happen." She found herself laughing at Kit's attempt at a pile. "That was certainly something. That's what that's called. You know, I can direct you to a class or two if you're interested." Mariela told Kit, covering her face as she laughed. "Okay is better than not." She let him know, as he was still attempting to do something with his life. That was more than could be said for others. "Yeah, I do." She nodded, before looking over at the bar. "Now if I remember correctly, I owe you a shot, correct?"

"Okay." He chuckled then, after thinking on it a second and giving in, looked back at her with just the hint of a devilish grin. "You wanna have a good time?" Even with how long they'd known each other, Kit had no clue what a successful night out looked like for Mariela, and if their ideas of that aligned in the slightest. (Or really, if she cared about legal technicalities or not.) "Hey I can work with something. No classes for me though, I'm self-taught." He held back a laugh, drink raised to his lips, then nodded, "Yeah you do. C'mon, I'm tired of standin' in the same place anyway." His palm found her back for just a second to nudge them forward, towards the bar.

"Yeah, you." Mariela pointed at him, as he very well knew the reputation that he held in Rosewood. In fact, she knew of Kit's antics long before she got to meet the man behind them. "You know what? No. I'm going to keep my hopes exactly where they are." She told him. "I assume you did something for a living, believe it or not." Mariela laughed. "No? And here I was hoping to try to make you a part of my dance company, actually. What a shame." She nodded, as he spoke. "And how's that been going for you? I assume you'll always be in demand, do you know the amount of bikes this town has?" She asked him, knowing it was the preferred mode of transportation for Ace and his band of men.

"Oh no, don't do that," he said with an exaggerated sigh, teasing, "You're just gonna be disappointed now, and then I'm the bad guy. Yeah? I mean I could give that a shot too, like a-," Kit bent his knees in his own personal interpretation of a plie, something he'd only seen on tv. "What's that called?" He shrugged, "It's okay." He did occasionally fix bikes, that was true, but more often that not he scrapped them and sold the parts. It wasn't the kind of 'work' he could get away with in town though so he usually took his business elsewhere, away from greaser territory. "It'll do for now, you know."

"No, not particularly. I mean, in the grand scheme of things, sure. I mean, I dance for a living, I'm not exactly in the peace corp so I'm not having the worst time but work is still work." Mariela explained as she knew she couldn't exactly drone on about her career when so many people would kill to be in her position. "Hence why I've found myself, phone on do not distrub, downing tequila shots with you. If anyone is fun in this town, it's you." She pointed at him, as his whole reputation screamed a great time. "I'm definitely putting fun in the forefront now."

"Me?," he laughed, finger pointed towards himself. Obviously he knew a good time, he couldn't argue that, it just surprised him to hear it from Mariela was all. Kit shook his head, amused by their general turn of events. "Don't get your hopes up." He didn't go at it like he used to but he'd attribute that more to circumstance than any actual growth on his part. "I work too, believe it or not. Not the fancy shit like you got goin' on, more like odd jobs here and there. Fixing bikes."

"You're going to laugh," Mariela let him know, before taking a small sip from the Sangria she'd been nursing to chase down their previous shot. "But it has been a whole lot of tights and tutus." She shrugged, with a laugh. "I threw myself into work, completely and it didn't do me wrong. I'm dancing for the best company in this state, I'm actually going on tour in the fall and I might even be dancing at Lincoln Center come December for the holiday shows." She couldn't be angry at the decision she'd made as her work life was thriving. "Unfortunately being amazing at my job didn't leave me with much time to do anything else." Mariela explained. "I know, I went full adult."

"Try me." If she was hitting him with a warning straight out the gate though they both knew he'd have something to say. Kit nodded as she spoke of how she'd thrown herself into work, biting his tongue by way of nursing his drink. "Is that like fun though? It's all super impressive I'm sure, but." He shrugged. What did he know? His whole life he'd prioritized a good time, over everything else, and look where they'd got him. "You gotta have fun too."