(

A young teenager crashes onto the pavement before you, wincing as his bike clatters to the ground with him. His hair is full of dyed white streaks, and a bloody cut is already starting to form under his eye. He rolls over onto his back before he notices you, letting out a heavy sigh and staring up at the clouds.

After a while, he stands, picking up his busted bike. "What are you looking at," He says coldly, starting to turn away.