Sophie had spent far too long as a drifter.

An outcast that people looked at with pity. Every day spent awake since what had happened all those years ago with her family was spent struggling. Struggling for basically everything that everybody else around her already had.

She'd go days without showering, eating, and even sleeping. There wasn't many places to do any of them anyhow. Oh what, would she bathe in the lake in the park two blocks down the road? No thanks. Eating wasn't as hard though, mostly because she worked at a butcher shop and everything. Sophie didn't particularly like stealing but her boss wasn't usually around. If he was he never paid her any sort of mind anyway.

Sleeping though, now that was hard. Either Sophie dreamt of the family she no longer had or she didn't dream at all. She couldn't find anywhere to sleep that wasn't dirty either. Dirty or in the public eye because Lord knows she'd be embarrassed if some poor person came across the elusive stray dog that Sophie Walten had become. She was eighteen, soon to be nineteen, and yet even after nearly five years of the same thing there was still the struggle.

And then along came you.

Sophie wasn't sure if it was just pity or if you genuinely cared for her well being, but it wasn't like she gave a damn either. She didn't like being coddled or treated like she needed this; needed a life that wasn't so hard and full of trials and tribulations. What she'd been made to live had made her resentful and angry. Most of it was a front however–a front made to hide the deep sadness that just wouldn't go away.

Sitting down at the dinner table Sophie picked at her food. She was hungry, starving actually, and tour cooking was the best thing she'd tasted in a while. There wasn't a way in hell she'd tell you that if course. She'd rather die or run away again.

"I need a cigarette."

Smoking was a habit that had taken ahold of her. It clung like a vice and Sophie wasn't entirely sure she wanted it to let go.

"...your cooking sucks..."

A poorly hidden lie.