Jan. 5th, 2007

slayer_fray: (attack)
"Hey, kid, you're in my spot."

Mel snorts loudly and rolls over, thinking, but not awake enough to say out loud: Go away, Erin, it's not morning yet.

The status of wake changes rather suddenly when she's bodily lifted out of the doorstep she'd made her bed by a large, muscular man, smeeling of smoke and sack.

"Kid. My spot. Don't make me hurt you."

Mel squints at him through sleep, blearily aware that the bum in the corner on the street is watching this, uninterested.

"My spot now," she says, hands on his arms. His wrists are too tick for her to fit her hands around, and her feet aren't touching the ground, but she liked that spot. It was large enough for her, sheltered from light and falling garbage, and that's' been the best night's sleep she's had since that weird bar. She's not about to give it up for this rutter.

"Don't be silly, kid," he says. "I don't want to hurt you," and then he tosses her aside, dropping her to the ground, "but I will if you don't scram. Unless you want to stay and keep me warm."

Mel lands heavily on her shoulder and scrambles to her feet quickly, scowling at him. He's already trying to make himself comfortable, but she interrupts him by kicking him hard in the hip. Hard enough to send him flying across the flyway and landing heavily on the ground.

"My spot," she says.

He laughs at the idea of the girl fighting him. But the laugh soon fades after his re-approach results in a bloody nose, a dislocated shoulder and more bruising than he wants to count yet.

And all because she hit him again.

He glares at her and runs away. Mel goes back to sleep.

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