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âHello?â It was dark, and Cassie couldnât help but feel a little nervous - after all, ze was new to this neighbourhood. So when ze heard a noise behind zir, ze couldnât help but jump. Ze didnât think anybody knew ze was living here now, but one could never be too careful.Â
âIs anybody there?â
Adrien loved being out at night, but he despised the anxiety that swept over him whenever the sun set. There werenât enough street lamps for him to feel comfortable, so he kept to the shadows - perhaps somewhat counterintuitive, but he supposed it would hide him. Even so, he stumbled over a crack in the pavement ( WHY couldnât they re-pave the goddamn streets? ), and found himself confronted by the voice of a stranger.
â--Depends if youâre there or not,â he called back, unable to see zir. âAre you?â
Below the cut are [ 41  ] small gifs (250x141) of model Matthijs Meel. All of the gifs below were made by me, so please ask before using them for any purpose besides roleplaying. Iâll probably say yes, but itâs better to ask first! Please like or reblog this gif hunt if it helped you in any way. (This is a secret santa present for Rocket, Dark Lord of All.) Last updated: 22 December, 2015.
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Merry Christmas, Rocket! @better-classofcriminal
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There was yet another roll of emotions through him that didnât belong, he arched an eyebrow at the young man, âyou want water?â Somehow he found it hard to believe that the stranger wanted to drink the entire sink, never-mind how improbable that was. Q ordered them both drinks and under the assumption he genuinely wanted a glass of water, if he didnât then it wasnât a big deal to him water didnât cost anything. Functional, had the last Xeryn heâd run into been this peculiar in their mannerisms? He couldnât remember. âIâm One Eye, but you can call me Q,â lips curved into a delicate smirk as if to suggest only Adrien could call him that.
âIâm guessing you ainât been here long?â The confusion, the lack of fluency in conversational English and his general mannerâas if he was experiencing and seeing this world for the first time ever. Some alien creature finally cracking out of his cocoon. Hell, on this planet anything was possible. âHow about I show you around later?â
 âSounds s . . similar.â Drink. For the life of him, he couldnât recall the proper name of the image heâd shown the other, but the confusion heâd seen cross the manâs features indicated that his guess hadnât been correct. âQ. Easy,â he breathed, words accompanied by a soft sigh of relief. For once, a name that didnât leave his tongue floundering for some odd new syllables.Â
  âNot long, no. Only . . days. Maybe . . one page, at most.â Confusion, again, as he communicated an image of a paper calendar - practically ancient, but the only way he knew of to organize time as such. Adrien nodded hesitantly in response to the offer, sure nothing could go too wrong with his acceptance of it. After all, what could this Q do to him? At worst, heâd get terribly lost.
 Q had been about to all but whistle as he fully took in the strangerâs appearance, or more accurately the lack of significant clothing. But a wave of emotions that werenât his seeped into him, made him blink rapidly, the strangerâs confusion mingled with his own. It was an odd feeling to say the least. Then as it receded and his emotions were once again his own fully he recalled heâd encountered a young man once before not too dissimilar to the one in-front of him. The poor Xeryn had been at the captainâs mercy for one long evening before heâd upped and left, Q never stuck around long.
 âFucking great,â he replied, a grin seemingly plastered across his face as he took a rather large gulp of his drink. The ever so slight blue tint to the manâs skin shouldâve been his first clue, not the wave of emotion hitting him square in the face, but despite travelling to the furthest reaches of the confederation he had a tendency to forget, species blurring together. His mind was usually racing through thoughts of what nextâwhere would he go, what could he get and who. The latter usually being of relative importance when he docked at any particular planet. He loved his crew like a family, no more no less.
 Frankly he expected a better response than this but it would do, âlet me buy you a drink,â he tapped at the bar, unfortunately the bartender was pre-occupied for the time being. âYou gotta name?â
 âGr . . eat,â he repeated slowly, before managing a hesitant grin. âA drink?â He sorted through his memories, frowning as he settled upon what he thought was âa drink.â Adrien sent waves of confusion towards the other again, though they were accompanied by an image of what he believed might be a drink.
 A name? He knew what a name was; heâd had to choose one when he came here. âAdrien. The . . The name of mine is Adrien, or Adi. Either is . . functional? I do not know the word. What is yours?â Slowly, he ran his fingers over the sticky surface of the bar, a grimace appearing on his features. Disgust replaced his confusion as he dropped his hand back to his side, unhappy with what his hand had come into contact with.

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 There was nothing, and truly nothing, like coming back home even if immediately he was desperately homesick for his shipâas battered and bruised as she was now. In her prime Anastasia had been the fastest, the kind of ship that no naval ship could catch up with, under the right captain she could make jumps faster than any of the others. Sheâd been, and still is, his pride and joyâincited envy and jealousy at whichever planet they docked at. Not so much these days after the beating sheâd taken, still his name usual provoked some kind of responseâalthough to his irritation the usual response to his moniker was who?
 He descended from the spaceplaneâs stairs, glanced upwards as if he might possibly catch a glimpse of Anastasia still in orbit. Qâs already pulling off his suit, leaving it to hang around his waist, he flashed a lazy smile at the docking staff, âthatâs right bitchesâone eye is homeâ.
 The money had already been wired for his safe docking, even here the likelihood of being caughtâor worse someone having a bounty on his head, were extremely high. Crew shuffling along behind him, a little more subdued to be back at New America than Qâmost of them were from neighbouring planets, Tri was the least enthused of them all. He left them to go collect themselves and rest, Q went to go find someone to barter withâhe had cargo in his hull that needed moving, now. âSoâhow you doing?â He cooed with a slight smirk as he gripped a tall glass in a nearby bar, work later fun first.
 The night was young, and he hated it here. The world was too noisy, and the language was confounding. Even so, the young Xeryn made his way through the streets, temporarily liberating clothing from where it hung. Somehow, he ended up wearing something Urban Flash-esque - far from what he would have preferred to be wearing, but maybe one night on the town with this wouldnât be so bad. It wasnât as though everyone here was light blue, and he was bound to attract some degree of attention no matter what clothing he wore.
 When he seated himself at the bar, Adrien - the name heâd given himself for the duration of his stay - hadnât expected any sort of contact, but there was noise next to him, directed at him. All he managed to do at first was send waves of confusion towards the stranger, but he struggled with his words all the same until they passed his lips.
  âI am . . well. Are you well?â he asked uncertainly, the words foreign on his tongue. The concept of binding ideas to words had been terribly difficult at first, but he was finally starting to get the hang of it, sort of.
Planet: Xer Prominent Species:Â Xeryn
On the planet Xer, there is no language, only telepathic communication. Itâs difficult for Xeryns to communicate with those on New America for that reason, but some have managed to teach themselves human languages.
They are mostly humanoid in appearance, with a blue tint to their skin. Strongly in tune with nature, many have traits similar to the fauna on their planet, and can often communicate with those animals.
Adrien has chosen the cityâs rooftops as his place of living. He could have stayed with his parents, but he prefers to live on his own, given that they wonât let him run the net in the house. He canât say he agrees with them, but he wonât ask them to violate their principles for him - heâd rather leave, as he has.
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 Frankly if there was anything Q fancied doing more it was slouching in some sofa and watching a pretty girl or boy dance. But inevitably he wouldnât be the jerk to force someone into something, a stranger anyway a close friend wouldâve been a different story. âHeyâainât nothing wrong with the kind of person that visits such classy establishments,â although the offence in his voice was overly faux, Q wasnât offended that easily.
 âWell it ainât a strip club, just the normal kind,â although it was notorious for its backrooms and the people that inhabited them. Q left that part out. âCâmon be fun, sure theyâll do you a milkshake or some shit if you donât wanna drink,â he winked.
 âNever said thereâs anything wrong with âem, just that they . . they bother me, usually. Thatâs all,â he said quietly, frowning. âJust the normal kind . . â As though repetition could make the phrase any better.
  âFine, I guess.â Adrien clenched his hands into fists, though they were still hidden in his pockets. âI mean, sânot like Iâve got something better to do.â Besides try to sleep, of course, but that didnât work as often as he wished it did. âSo . . we goinâ or what? Youâve gotta lead the way.â

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 Defiance was not something she usually came across, be it the badge she wore or the steely gaze people tended to know not to cross her but for whatever reason he was doing just that. For some unbeknown reason she chose to give him the benefit of the doubt, even if this was only a temporary gift, âwhy canât you move?â
  ââCause I can see it,â he said, gesturing hesitantly towards the shadows. âCanât you? Itâs there, I swear to god it is. I donât know what it is, or why itâs there, but itâs there.â Adrien flashed her a frantic look before looking back to the thing he saw, worried about what it might do if he averted his gaze again.
 He paused and stood all but perfectly still, the voice was familiar, it took a few more moments for it to sink in fully who he was. âAdrien?â Dex fidgeting in his seat momentarily but relaxed, âyou alright?â This was now the second time heâd quite literally burst into his life and by the sounds of it he was running from something, or someone, again. âWant a drink?â He nudged the can of ghost over and then settled back into the seat, not overly sure what to say or ask.
 âYeah, sâme, and-- yeah, Iâm okay,â he said. âNo thanks; Iâm . . Iâm good.â Adrien gave a quiet sigh, pushing the can back towards the other. âJust kind of a mess right now, sorry. A real mess. Always a mess, actually, but no big deal. Nothinâ to worry about. Howâve you been? Good, I hope?â
 He turned just in time to see the discomfort on Adrienâs face brows pulled down in light confusion, he didnât know a single person in this world who didnât enjoy a lap danceâalthough he could imagine that clubs and lap dances would make a certain person cringe. âLook you donât wanna go in fine, just had to say,â Q lifted his hands up as if in defence and then shoved them back deep into coat pockets, mulling silently for a moment on where to go now.
 âSure, you donât wanna go in? I know it ainât the classiest placeâthereâs a club not far from here classy and swanky as fuckââ He licked dry lips before continuing, âdifferent kind of place,â he was grinning from ear to ear. It catered towards a different audience, the kind that was currently being displayed on his coat with two young gentleman for the most part censored out.
 He dug his hands into the pockets of his jeans, a small frown on his features. âYeah, I donât want to go in,â he stated plainly, though his gaze showed that he was nowhere near as confident as his words made him out to be. âItâs not how classy the place is that bothers me . . sâjust the kind of people that go in, but also that mânot one for . . for physical contact with strangers, if that makes any sense.â
 So much for appearing normal, he figured. Adrien hated that he couldnât make contact with others, but it felt like it burned. This phantom limb pain was really no fun sometimes. âWhat kind of different?â he questioned uncertainly, brows furrowing. Different could be good or bad, and he wanted to know before they got there.
   Exhaustion. No, no, today he didnât feel like getting into a smouldering hot pot of beef a la letâs punch each otherâs faces off, but alas âtwas how life kept him in check, constantly reminding the man that he was not the boss bitch of this brothel. Twirling a glass of piss-tasting whiskey in a smelly bar, again, wasnât in his plans but brain demanded fuel, a poison of some sort to relax and forget and slowly slip into blissful nothingness drenched in cigarette smoke and noxious alcohol fumes. Ah, what a memorable Friday night this promised to be. Already he had a girl on his lap fawning over his pretty little face, completely forgetting about her two friends who stood off to the side, sending an occasional glare her way as she continued to twirl his hair with her index finger and sigh profusely about how boring this place was and how she would much rather be elsewhere - with him, of course. Ghost wasnât usually the one to refuse a lady in need, but the beer stained breath of the woman, well, letâs just say that he was fifty shades of turned off and unwilling. And, being in such an unwanted and risquĂŠ situation, any distraction was welcome. Â
   At first he wasnât quite sure as to why the two lads went from sharing drinks and crude anecdotes to throwing accusations and seasoned profanities at one another in the space of five minutes, but once the taller one launched a dead hunk of fried circuitry at the otherâs face, well, things began to make sense. Cain couldnât help but shake his head at the childish behaviour, would have even found it hilarious if it wasnât for the fact that instead of alcohol all that was getting to his brain was a fucking headache. What a pair of cretins. Truly dumb and dumber personified.Â
   Every day was the same now, no matter how hard he fought for variation of some sort. Adrienâs morning had started early with a heavy downpour, and though heâd been lucky enough to make it inside for a night, heâd still had to head through the rain to get back to his parentsâ place. He went in for only a quarter of an hour, just long enough to shower and dress, before heâd left again - the restrictions they placed on him about the Net, even at age 21, were incredibly ridiculous.
   It was by pure chance heâd walked into the bar that day. The rain had stopped earlier, but it had begun just moments ago, and heâd ducked into the establishment to avoid what he knew would end up being a lingering dampness for the rest of the night. His gaze settled on the man by the bar - no, not a stranger. He recognised him, though theyâd only seen each other in passing. This was the guy that had called him pretty, supposedly in some attempt to leave him disgruntled, though it may have been a genuine compliment. Heâd probably never know.
   âCanât believe people fight in bars still,â he said quietly, mostly to himself, but still loud enough for the man to hear. âWouldâve thought theyâd be . . too scared of gettinâ arrested or something.â

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 The frustration was not eased as he simply point blank refused to meet her gaze, it wasnât the first time and certainly wouldnât be the last but Xio took it as an unspoken insult. âCheck the badge,â she uttered, voice ringing out loud and cold. Muscles stiffened as if she was readying herself for a fight but in stark contrast she was remarkably relaxed given how he was still stood before her. Disobedience, it was an irritant. âLast chance to leave this is a restricted area,â sheâd been on the heels of a possible threat, a possible psycho that could break any second and here she was wasting time clearing the streets.
 âYou will get hurt unless you leave now.â
 âBadge, badge,â he repeated quietly, casting a quick glance towards the womanâs badge before returning his gaze to the darkness on her left. âI canât leave, Iâm sorry-- I canât. I canât move.â Adrien swallowed hard, glad for the fact that his lower arms were mechanical - otherwise, his hands would be shaking. âPlease, I c-- I canât. Iâm sorry.â
 The afternoon had been relatively peaceful, gym kit sat at his feet with the intention of heading towards the club later but currently Dex was inhaling a bowl of ice-cream. Sweet and colourful, covered in little multi-coloured sprinkles and generally diabetes in a glass but Dex was still enjoying having an appetite so he didnât care. This mornings ârun had gone well, a little too well but he wasnât going to complain, heâd managed to shift the data heâd discovered almost immediately for a hefty price. So now he was kicking back and relaxing, at least until he got his ass kicked later. Someone had burst into the almost empty cafĂŠ in a hurry, slamming the door shut behind them in the process, sat right by the door he was a little alarmed.
 âYou okay?â
 âFine,â he said after a long moment. Squinting to force himself to focus, he caught sight of the person whoâd spoken to him - he knew that face, even if the older male wouldnât recognize him by sight. â . . Dexter, right? We met a . . a while ago; I was hiding behind you.â Adrien sank down to the floor, gaze skirting the people in the room. âSorry, Iâm kinda making a scene, no? My bad.â Hesitantly, he stepped forward, sliding into the seat next to the stranger and sinking down in it before pulling his hood further up over his head.Â