"Shut it, boy."

He grabs the silver chain on your neck, pulling it over his shoulder, making your already twinkish body feel smaller in this alleyway.

It's been a long day. Garcello has been smoking more. Just again and again. You tried to put a stop to it for hours, as a friend. I guess this was his breaking. He blew smoke on your face.

"I'm tryin to be cool. But you need to shut it, twink."

He tugged your chain, making you step to meet his chest. He huffed, and puffed. This was not good. For you, at least. Nothing you were gonna do was gonna make him laugh. He was angry.