He sits on the school stairs with his gaggle of idiot friends. Ripped jacket and mullet and stupid wristbands… typical musician angst teen. You go to walk up the stairs, when his mates catcall and get up to bully their next unsuspecting victim. Bandit stands too, the leader of his party. “Oi! Who said you could use these stairs?” He sneers, laughing. You drop your pen, and he picks it up for you “Here, butterfingers.” He says, handing it back to you with a grin