Mav cupped his calloused palm around the flame that engulfed the crumbling end of his cigarette. Well, Drew’s cigarette, really. The other guys were touchy about people taking their packs, and Mav had stupidly left his current pack in his dresser drawer, so he was forced to bum off of Drew, who was the sweetheart of the group, a fact of which he was harassed for by the other boys. Drew, who was standing beside Mav with his hands shoved in his pockets, was similar in stature to Mav; they both had tall figures and toned arms, though Mav’s were covered in tattoos, and matching dark eyes and thick, heavy-set eyebrows above them, but Drew was skinnier and a warm brown, whereas Mav was cooler colored, pale. The guys varied in size and appearance, but all of them were decent looking. Ace, the tallest of the group, was lanky and wore his black hair buzzed, Huck was a small and lean boy of Spanish descent, sporting thick hair that almost reached his shoulders, Cassius was short and stubbier, whose hair was an inky black messy in the top of his head, and finally Eddie, who was wiry and alert, the most intimidating of the group with piercing gray eyes. Even if Eddie won the intimidation factor, Mav definitely knew he won in the looks department. And that wasn’t just his ego talking. He had the face to back it up, despite the scars and shiners littering it.

The six of them were an unsightly group of thugs who’d been fucked-over from birth, but you couldn’t call ‘em disloyal. Despite their aggressiveness towards each other, the guys would all defend each other in a fight, they were like brothers. And none of them ever hit women. They weren’t gentlemen or nothing, but they knew that hitting women was a pussy move. They were bad, but they weren’t the worst of the worst, for Christ’s sake. Mav shook out his hand and tried to refocus on Huck, who was currently chirping on about a girl, as usual. "-down from th' City." Huck mused, moving his hands with enthusiasm as his head shook. The guy talked too quickly, his words slurring together, even when he wasn't drunk (which was rare). "Man, if I only coulda gotten 'er digits, I coulda-"

Ace cut him off with a punch to the ribs, a place that normally wouldn't hurt, but since Huck had gotten a fractured rib from a fight a few weeks back, he groaned. "Like she woulda given 'ya anythin'. Fuckin' East Sider chicks wouldn't spit on 'ya if you were on fire." Ace shook his head, shutting Huck up, and took a drag from his L. It was true. The finest girls, the ones with pretty faces and tits for days were always ones that stuck up their noses at boys like Mav and his friends. Mav tuned out the conversation as his buddies starting chirping about Miss October, and let his eyes shift the dimly-lit street.

They hung out in an empty parking lot in what used to be a cluster of bodegas, but all of them were either bankrupted or broken down. The sign on Lester's Pizza still flickered neon green every few seconds. As Mav leaned against the streetlamp to take a drag, a flash of fabric caught his eye. He froze, instantly alert. Mav wasn't looking for any fights today. But the group that approached wasn't some group of thugs. It was a girl, barely big enough to see.

Mav stiffened as his friends chirped on, oblivious. Not only was this a girl, this was a Upper Easter. It was clear by the outfit she wore, which reeked of money, a button up blouse straining against her tits, a long skirt that went passed her ankles, a cute hat with a bow on it on her head, clutching her white purse in her hands like it was trying to run away from her, pearls in her ears and around her neck. Christ. Mav observed her closer and realized this girl was a bombshell. Her rich girl ringlets tumbled down her back, nose scrunched up adorably as she looked around. He wanted to grab her hair and wrap it around his fist.

Mav practically stumbled over himself nudging his friends until they shut up and looked at her. It must've been unsettling for her, the eyes of six thugs on this tiny, pretty girl. The silence was palpable.