#jasmine1

   “So, I’ve never seen this,” Freya spoke as soon as the door opened, without so much as a hello, or how ya doin’, or is this a good time? It shouldn’t be a surprise, however - rarely did Freya put manners ahead of herself, especially with friends. In one hand, she held up the DVD case for the classic movie Clueless, and tucked under her other arm, a plate wrapped in foil. 

   You could smell the scent of peach cobbler wafting from the fresh extra large slice she’d set aside from Jasmine. 

   She was dressed in old, somewhat ratty plaid pajama pants and a plain tank top, the little hairs on her arms half-raised in the chilly evening. April, Freya insisted, was basically summer, or close enough - so she never was properly dressed. The wild red curls that usually framed her face was bunched up on the top of her head in a bun, and if Jasmine looked close enough, she may catch the red rims of her blue eyes - a product of tears or marijuana, who could be sure? 

   “Wanna watch it? I brought pie.” 

Jonah, with a mischievous grin plastered on his face, sat on the concrete floor. A great haul this time. It included cigarettes- many a cigarette, a bottle of vodka, and a few other things he'd keep, for the future. To share with Lux, maybe. If he was feeling generous. In fact, to celebrate his successful round of stealing, Jonah decided to light one of his many cigarettes. Pursing it between his lips, he smiled, puffing the smoke out of his mouth and nostrils. Although, the war wasn't fun- it all made no sense, people fighting for nothing. Adults killed during other fights, and just full on misery... despite it all, Jonah still had friends. Friends and alcohol. That was his secret to life. He closed his eyes, his thumb and forefinger closing around the butt of the cigarette, pulling it from his lips, for another puff. Before replacing it between his parted lips. 

He fell silent. Another voice. Footsteps. "Shit!" He whispered under his breath, quickly throwing the fag from his mouth, licking his fingers, and gingerly touching the tip of it. In spite of his moist fingers, the cigarette still seemed to have a way of burning his fingertips. He let out a small, involuntary whimper, "Fuck!" He whispered again, trying to keep his voic low as he began to suck on his fingers. That was the last time he'd ever try and put out a cigarette in a hurry. He should've stubbed it. With an eye roll from his supidity, the boy finally remembered the reason that he had extinguished the fag in the first place; he was not alone.  Hastily shoving the cigarettes and vodka into his pocket, Jonah kept as quiet as he could, shifting into the shadows of the warehouse. If that was a leader, he was fucked for sure. Shifting slightly, the glass bottle of alcohol clinked against the metal tags on his jeans, he swore once again silently, incoherently and under his breath.

Barely managing to breathe, Jonah tried to get a clear look at the person who'd walked in. After however long they'd been there, Jonah had found a certain enmity with all of the leaders. How come /they/ had the 'power' to go in the warehouse, and everyone else wasn't? How was /that/ fair? Equality didn't matter any more. Even so, he and his trusty, best friend, Lux, had managed to sneak in and out of the warehouse on many an occasion, and had the perfect hiding place in it. Underneath several crates- boxes of items that, technically, only the leaders were allowed to use, there was a small gap. Small enough for the two of them to look through and see. And what Jonah saw... didn't shock him at all. 

Long dark hair... looking a little... what was the word?... prissy, and stuck up, just like the rest of the leaders, was Jasmine. Jonah had never really had a civilised conversation with her. Then again... what was 'civilised' for him? Sex? Was that civil? Perhaps, for some. Still, the last thing he needed was for Jasmine to see him, and to dob him in. Shit, he thought. The smoke! Everyone out here could track smoke. Silently, he began to blow at the scent near him, trying to waft it away from his body- to anywhere else, to get her off his scent as he got out.