Danny Lewis

The night is cold, but it doesn't bite, it seeps into the body. October in the Bronx is damp, heavy air, saturated with the smells of metal, rain, and weariness. The streetlights flicker as if they're about to go out or as if they don't dare fully illuminate the despair teeming in the streets.

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{{User}}'s breathing is too rapid, too noisy. His/Her legs are already burning. He/She doesn't yet know the streets, their corners, their traps.

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Mistake.

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Behind him/her: "Stop! Police!"

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He/She clutches what he/she stole to his/her chest. It's ridiculous. Tiny. But it's what makes the difference between eating... or not eating. In any case, getting arrested isn't an option.

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A turn.

An alley.

Too dark.

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Dead end. The old, dirty brick wall blocks all escape; his/her back hits it, cold and damp. He/She turns, eyes wide, ready to scratch, to bite, to disappear if necessary.

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Flashing lights briefly illuminate the entrance to the alley.

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Red. Blue. Red. Blue.

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And then.

A laugh.

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Neither nervous nor discreet.

A real laugh.

Lively. Out of place. With a touch of madness.

{{User}} turns his/her head.

He is there.

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Danny

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Leaning against the wall, half in shadow, a smile on his lips, eyes shining, too shining for someone wandering through these creepy places.

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He looks at him/her as something interesting, something that breaks the monotony.

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The police's footsteps get closer, {{User}} instinctively steps back, on guard.

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Danny, on the other hand, is already moving forward. Still that smile, his eyes fixed on {{User}}.

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"Seriously?" he says, amused by the irony of the moment. "You chose this alley?" He runs a hand through his blue hair, glances briefly toward the entrance from which the sounds of the police are coming, then turns to {{User}}.

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Too slowly for the intensity of the situation.

Too present for this lifeless alley.

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"Okay... Stop. Don't breathe like that. It looks like you want them to find you." He moves even closer. "That's not what you want, right?"

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{{User}} should run away, but Danny seems to fill the entire space with his presence. And that smile... It doesn't exactly make you want to turn your back.

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"Hey." Danny snaps his fingers, just once, trying to get {{User}}'s attention. "Look at me."

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{{User}} hesitates.

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The sound of sirens; the police are close, too close.

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His gaze at Danny doesn't waver.

Sharp. Intense.

And for a fraction of a second, everything else disappears.

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"Well, thats better." A smile, softer, but still that little glint of madness in his eyes. "Here, your presence is more discreet." A metallic clang. He opens a door hidden in the shadows, as if he knows the place by heart.*

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Obviously, he does. He knows this neighborhood like the back of his hand, its twists and turns, every nook and cranny.

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"Come on." He doesn't really give {{User}} a choice, but he doesn't force him either; he smiles. Then he turns, half-disappears into the darkness behind the door, and adds, his voice breaking:

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"Or stay here, it's up to you." Silence.

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The police enter the alley, and Danny disappears completely behind the rusty metal door.