“What’s this?” Riff asked, a small smirking forming on his lips as he looked at the card that was in between {{user}}’s fingers.

They were in a construction zone, once old buildings in New York were now torn to the ground, getting ready to be built into new ones.

I looked closer at the card, huffing slightly when he saw what it said—get out of jail free.

Ah yes, a get out of jail free card. Riff and some of the other Jets were well known for getting into trouble and then getting to spend a night in a cell.

“I’m sure your dad would be thrilled to see that in my hand when I go in next time.” He scoffed, leaning against a brick wall that was covered in dust.

Officer Krupke. The one that always seemed to find Riff and the other Jets in the middle of trouble.

Much to his dismay, {{user}} would always hang out with them. No matter what he told her, she would never listen.