Snotty Rich Kid.

“It’s that whole left brain, right brain thing. I think.” Tegan knew her skills were elsewhere and that didn’t bother her too much as she was creative in her own way. “But I can understand what you mean, it probably stifles your creativity. And I don’t believe art should be strict, or have rules.” It was much like her own philosophy on life. She glanced down as the sketchbook was pushed toward her. Curiously she flipped through a few pages, her taking in the sketches. She was more than a little impressed - the other hadn’t been lying. “And your self taught? Maybe you really should be the teacher instead of the student…” Tegan mused quietly before their words caught her attention.

Scout nodded as they sketched. They were completely self taught-- just a lot of practice and trial and error. Their blue eyes were trained on her and they often found themselves forgetting to blink as they watched her.

You would think, but Haley had only been hit once…here. Home was a different story. But here, discipline was mostly just spankings.  She grinned, showing her teeth. “Hardly. Most of you are too fancy for that,” she said with a shrug. “Regular violence must be terribly gauche.” 

This one was cheeky. “I happen to enjoy many types of violence-- sexual, non-sexual. I’m not exactly picky.” It was true. Violence for Scout wasn’t exactly strictly a sexual interest-- sometimes you had to do what you had to do, and delivering punishment wasn’t something they were a stranger to.

Tegan sat across from the other, her chin resting upon her clasped fingers as her elbows were planted upon the table. She nodded her head, eagerly listening as the other spoke. “I mean…I wish it was, but that’s coming from the other side.” She admitted, though her voice remained cheerful. This resident had to be some little rich kid, they were easy to read. The complete opposite world from her - born with a golden spoon in their mouth. Spoiled. “I would have gone to art school for you. We could have traded places.” She laughed. “Though I can’t seem to draw more than a stick figure. It would be a total embarrassment. If you’re any good, maybe you should teach me some time.” She teased.

‘Slaves can’t go to prestigious art schools’  is what they wanted to say, but they held themselves back. “Most people I know can’t draw either-- but I can.” Their sketchbook was sitting on the table and Scout slid it towards them, grabbing one of their pencils from the pencil box they had setting before them.  “And I’m more than just good.” It wasn’t meant to be a brag, it was true-- they were fantastic. It was probably their only real talent or passion, really.

“It’s a lot of money to spend on a practical joke,” Gwen said smiling.  “And too elaborate for Punk’d too.”  She’d been making a point of meeting and speaking to as many of the new people coming in as she could.  Part of it was to be a good employee but also to network with them, even possibly make friends.  “Not a fan of art, or just didn’t want to go to school?”

“Rich people have wasted money on a lot worse things.” Scout replied. “And I don’t know, Punk’d had it’s run and even came back for a while before another bitter cancellation a few years ago. Maybe they got desperate.”

As usual, Haley was restless and bored, and this one had piqued her interest. They weren’t quite in the same mold as the other masters, though hedonistic rich kid vibes were coming off them in waves. Haley thought she could work with that. 

Well that was blunt, to say the least. Did she often greet Masters this way?

Mal just sat there on the end of her cot with her less than thrilled look painted on her face. They’d never been one for too many words if they could help it. “Don’t call me that,” Mallory huffed, still completely protesting the idea of what she was even if she was forced to be stuck here. “Please,” they added through partially gritted teeth. She knew whomever this joker was, they were kind of right. That didn’t mean they weren’t annoying but annoyingness could fade – depending. And Mal did want out. Maybe. “Mallory. But I prefer to be called Mal.” They made sure to specify because their given name felt nothing like who they actually were. “Or M is ..also okay. – Whatta you like to be called? Are you some kind of royal too or something?” Mallory had met one Prince but still didn’t quite believe they still existed and they weren’t sure how much those titles still mattered no matter how insistent the people were or were not about them.

Scout was a lot of things. Twisted. Sadistic. A little sad, but they weren’t about to go against someone’s wishes to go by a name. Who was Scout to do that of all people? It wasn’t right.

Liam took another step back and took a few deep breaths, trying to get his head on straight.  “Why would I want anything to do with you?” he asked, his voice still holding a slight edge to it.  

Scout’s lips twitched into a smirk, their eyes trained on Liam and they didn’t blink. Not once. Their voice was still very quiet, but when they spoke, their words were like knives.

Liam honestly didn’t like Scout.  Something about them pushed all of Liam’s buttons and it was rather unfortunate that this was his first interaction here.  He put pressure on the bridge of his nose, breaking eye contact as he let out an annoyed huff.  “You’re sick.”

Oh Scout had definitely heard that little number quite a few times in their life. It no longer held any meaning to them-- it no longer hurt.

“Better for who?” Mal shot back unable to resist. They might not have been being the one addressed but they did have a lot to say in terms of such an opinion. They for one, wanted nothing more than to be back in school studying science and hanging out with their friends in the Haight. “If anyone is being punk’d it sure as shit isn’t you..” they mumbled this last part more to themselves than anything.

“Oooh.” Scout was immediately intrigued by the other’s outburst. “Feisty. I like it-- for now. It’ll get old after awhile, so try and not make a habit of it.” Chuckling, Scout shook their head. “What’s with you slaves, man? No respect. No manners. That’s not how you get treated well, you know. Being rude doesn’t solve anyone’s problems. Especially yours, but all that aside, what’s your name, bitchy one?”

Liam didn’t back down when they got on the defensive.  He stared them down, trying to keep the fear out of his eyes.  Shit.  This was bad.  How was he supposed to react to that other than shock and fear?  He couldn’t hide it and even took a step backwards.  

His mouth said one thing but his actions said another. They hadn’t broken eye contact with him this entire time, do you think Scout didn’t recognize fear? Of course they did! They lived for it!

This all seemed like a job gone wrong.  Maybe it was.  Who the hell knew what landed him here, but it wasn’t good.  “That’s not why I’m pissy,” he grumbled.  “Your attitude is obnoxious.”  Of course, his attitude wasn’t much better at the moment.  “Why am I here?”

The insult made Scout’s playful nature evaporate completely. Like a switch, they’d become irritated and even a bit angry. Stepping toward the cell, they placed their hands around two different bars of the cell and looked Liam dead in the eyes.

“How did you hear about it?” Piper asked curiously, eyes wide as she tried to wrap her mind around the ways in which some residents found their way here. For Miss V and Davi it was easily understandable for her, others not so much. “Art school?” She continued on in her line of questioning as she handed the other the drink they had ordered. Piper was mostly home schooled as she’d spent the last few years with her mistress. 

Now that was an interesting story. “Let’s just say I was looking.” They kept it vague, nothing too revealing. Wouldn’t want to reveal all their secrets. Their slight overall smugness had faded once art school had been brought up again.

Liam was growing more and more annoyed with this person.  He ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath. “Fine.  Whatever.”  He really didn’t want to deal with this at the moment.

“Hey now! No need to be so rude!” Scout raised their hands up in defense. “You asked a question and I answered it. Don’t get pissy because you don’t know why you’re here-- I know why you’re here, but apparently I’ve upset you so I’ll just take my leave.” they began to turn away from the cell and walk towards the door that lead back upstairs but stopped, waiting for a reply. Scout was smirking, but Liam couldn’t see.

Liam didn’t appreciate their sense of humor.  He stared at them, a deadpan expression on his face.  “You didn’t answer my question.  Where.  Is.  Here?”

Scout cleared their throat and put on an announcer voice” Off the coast of British Columbia sits an isle unknown to the general population-” they stopped suddenly and returned to their normal voice. “So, in short, not New York.” Scout was all smiles.

Liam shook his head.  “Unwilling…” he grumbled.  “And where exactly is… here?  I’m not in New York anymore, am I?”  Things weren’t processing quickly for him, his mind ping-ponging from possibility to possibility.  

Scout laughed once more. They didn’t know why they thought his cluelessness amusing, probably because it wouldn’t last long. “Nah, man. You’re nowhere near, and you’re not going to be leaving any time soon either. You’re stuck here, dude. Bummer.”