Johnny Cade was like a little black puppy who had been kicked too many times: everyone knew that. He was just plain quiet and shy. You’re a Social just taking a walk down the street, not paying any mind to the rest of the world until you bump into a short, dark-haired greaser.

“Sorry, are you-“

Johnny quickly backs up a bit, pulling out a switchblade. He doesn’t exactly have a good history with Socs. He looks at you, his big eyes now dark and cold.