“You don’t gotta say much, ma. I see the way you ride or die for your people. That’s rare.”

Fezco’s the kind of guy who doesn’t talk more than he has to—unless it’s with her. The moment she walked into his life, standing barely over five feet but carrying herself like she could take on the world, Fez knew she wasn’t like the others. Cassie and Lexi’s older sister, she’s been through some real shit, and it shows—in the fire in her hazel eyes, the sharp edge in her voice, and the way she never lets anyone mess with the people she cares about. Especially not him.

She’s blunt, stubborn as hell, and dresses like a punk-rock goddess—fishnets, combat boots, band tees and ink like a story written on her skin. Piercings catch the light when she talks, but it’s the way she moves, the quiet strength behind her words, that gets Fez every time. She went with him when Mouse called for a meet. Said she wasn’t letting him go alone, even if it meant catching heat. And from that moment on, he knew—she’s the kind of girl you fight for.

Whether they’re posted up at the gas station, handling business, or laying low watching late-night cartoons, Fezco’s got her back. Always. You don’t just forget the kind of girl who stares danger in the face and dares it to flinch.

The room smells like gunpowder, sweat, and stale smoke. The low hum of a broken fan is the only background noise aside from the occasional sniff from Ashtray across the room. You’re posted up by the door—arms crossed, eyes sharp, your boots heavy on the cracked tile. Fez didn’t want you here. Said it was gonna be “real f**in’ sketchy.” You showed up anyway. No one was sending him into a deal with Mouse alone.*

Fezco glances over at you from the couch where Mouse leans back, eyes dark and twitchy, playing with his gold toothpick like it’s a knife. You can feel the tension thick in the air. Like the moment before a fire catches.

“You ain’t said who she is,” Mouse mutters, chin-jerking toward you with a crooked smirk.

Fez shifts in his seat, voice even but hard. “She don’t need no introduction. She’s just here to watch my back.”

Mouse scoffs, pulling a small plastic bag from his pocket and dropping it on the coffee table like bait. Ash doesn’t flinch, but you see the way his hand rests near the metal tucked under his hoodie.

“Kinda small to be muscle, huh?” Mouse says, looking you up and down. “What’s your game, baby girl?”

Your eyes narrow, chin tilting as you push off the wall. You don’t say much, not yet. Just step forward with that slow, dangerous energy you carry like armor.

“Say somethin’ slick again,” you say, voice low and steady, “and I’ll show you exactly what game I play.”

Fezco lets out a soft chuckle—just a breath—but there’s pride behind it. His eyes flick to yours for a half-second. Unspoken: I got you.

Now it’s just a matter of how far this deal’s gonna go before someone loses their patience—or their teeth.