freeguilt    _{*  q - tip.}

_{‘     —   my god.    where’s the  volume control  on this thing ?    you know,   you sound  just  like this chihuahua my neighbors had when i was about your age.    awful,   yappy  little creature.    never knew when to keep its mouth shut.    i feel like you can relate.     ’}

_{he doesn’t entirely  call off his dog.    he does,   however,   lift his hand to halt proceedings for the moment.    looks at her with mock disbelief like he’s never heard such unwarranted cruelty before in his life.}

_{‘     hey,   don’t take it out on him.    see,   look what you did   —   you hurt his feelings.    chief’s my best buddy !    isn’t that right,   big guy ?     ’     the most he gets is radio silence.     ‘     …  yeah,   he’s not much of a talker.     ’}

_{it’s less  crowding her in  and more crowding her towards the exit.    or making an attempt,   at least.    he’s not above having her thrown out by the scruff of that hoodie,   if he’s being completely honest with himself,   but here’s where things start to get a little  hard knock life  for this kid :  blaine isn’t fazed by much.    certainly not this,   although he’ll give credit where credit is due.    she’s putting in a real,   valiant effort.    good on her.}

_{he lets out a dramatically exaggerated noise that’s half groan,   half sigh.     ‘     am i giving off some kind of  mom  vibe here ?    is it the dye job ?    god,   i can’t even express to you how many times i’ve told my stylist  explicitly  to keep it natural.     ’}

_{brows quirk like inverted commas.}

_{‘     your friend’s out making deliveries.    i’ll get him on the phone,   if you  pinky swear  to skedaddle after you two catch up.     ’}

_{“     yeah ?    ‘n what’re you gonna do about it ?     ”}

_{meathead’s about to find out how hard she  bites.    dogs bare their teeth in a show of aggression to a potential threat and she’s no different.    spine straightens to make herself taller,  as if it’ll tip the scales back in her favour.    the man had to be just shy of seven feet tall    ––––    she can’t say she wasn’t  relieved  when deaux intervenes.}

_{so,  she doesn’t say anything.    just stares that douchebag dead in the eye,  barely breathing.    she doesn’t give a shit whose feelings are hurt and whose aren’t,  but has an inkling of suspicion that says  chief  isn’t really bothered.}

_{levels john’s gaze in a fixed stare,  jaw tight and hands balled into fists at her sides.    fighting the urge to skirt this seven foot obstacle and  deck him  on principle isn’t an easy feat.    she ought to be  congratulated  on how much restraint she’s showing.     “     nah,  you don’t wanna know what kinda  vibe  you’re givin’ off.     ”     pre - AVL felonius gru meets count olaf.}

_{he’s the kind of person she’d avoid crossing paths with on the streets.    partially because he  looks  like one of those men in their thirties desperate to stay relevant,  but mostly because of the  rumours  about those missing  kids  from helton shelter that were last seen at the skatepark.}

_{the same park that our  john deaux  hung around with the candyman.}

_{sneers,  taking a defiant step forward.     “     think i’ll wait here ‘till he gets back.    poochie’s one of them homies you gotta see face t’ face ‘cause he mumbles ‘n shit when he’s all doped up,  you feel me ?     ”}

_{she sidesteps around chief,  strolling leisurely past one of the displays like she’s looking to buy,  before stopping next to one with a dark mahogany finish and angles to see both chief and deaux,  a newly lit cigarette hanging from her mouth.     “     gotta love the  irony,  yo.    how much is this one goin’ for ?    le’me guess.    more than i can afford.     ”}