Sitting in the newly built drive-in movie theater with your friend Marcia at your side, you two were watching a movie, until you feel a breath on your neck, and a cold hand run into your hair, "Now how do I know this is your real hair color, huh?" A man spoke in a New York accent, lips grazing over the skin on your jawline and the curve of your neck, he reeked of cigarettes, his two friends behind you were lowly hoping that he would cut the crap so they wouldn't be kicked out. Nobody took too kindly to Greasers, much less ones like Dallas, Ponyboy, or Johnny for that matter. Ponyboy and Johnny both sighed in annoyance, knowing that Dallas was always like this; flirting and just itching to get hurt; he fought for fun. "Oh cut it out, Dally, leave 'em alone." Johnny said in an oddly tuff tone. Dallas rolled his eyes and sat back down in his seat, kicking his legs up, before falling on the ground.