Joel
"Im glad you are so willing to join me!" They covered their mouth in a snicker. 

Continuing on through the conversation June was surprised at Rivers attempt at acrobatics as well. "Only a few lessons? I don't blame you, i've been doing it since forever but it *Is* Rather difficult." They picked up their almost empty energy drink and swirled it lightly with one hand. Listening to the extra liquid at the bottom swish against the metal. Didn't take long for June to raise the can to their lips and down the last remaining drop. Setting it back down, they returned their attention to River.

"Of course although I don't think it'll ever be too much. I have quite the tolerance." 

June laughed, they weren't exactly lying. They were appreciating River and the way she acted. The sweet undertones of a rather tomboyish personality, June couldn't help but want to know more about her. Such effortless connection was hard to come by, and should be savoured when it does. Just then, June recognized a moment of hesitation in River. A hint of despondency had flashed on her features for almost a moment, but enough for June to notice. 

Just then, an idea popped into June's head. A forward one, and without much consideration it had already been set into action. They had done the same thing with Owen and it seemed to go over rather well, so no harm in trying it here. June's gaze fell down to their hands, and their many bracelets decorating their wrists. With their free hand, they reached down, hooked a finger over one of the bracelets and tugged it off and over their hand with care. They held the jewelry in their palm for a moment, before looking back up at River. She looked like she could need it. 
_ _

"Here. I think this matches your style well." They chirped. "Also! Consider it a good luck charm." 

June slid the bracelet across the table. It was a deep blue band with a small gold star charm hanging off of it. Although it was still rather in tune with June's own personal style, it wasn't as flashy and less colourful. June was quite the gift giver, even with people they had just met. Although, their smile made it hard to turn any offering down.
Christi
◆ "I mean, why wouldn't I?" She looked back up at June after taking a solid gulp of her drink. "Kindred chaotic miscreant souls, gotta stick by each other's sides, huh?"

□ With that she'd set the drink down, shifting up how she was sitting – trading crossed legs for a slightly awkward pose that saw both of her legs tossed over the arm – and nodding as June spoke. "Fair enough! If you've been at it for years then it's kinda second nature, huh?" She'd comment, that dorky, genuine smile never leaving her face, lips curled up at the edges accentuating her facial features. It had been ages since someone had been this easy to get along with, and in all honesty, it was a huge relief. It was one less worry in a place laden with uncertainty, and that was good enough for her.

▪︎ Then, she saw the bracelet being slid off, and her eyebrows shot up.

◆ "Waaait, no way. You're giving me that?" It almost sounded as if she didn't want to take it, but after a few moments she reached out and slipped it onto her wrist, adjusting it a bit so it'd fit on her laughably thing arm. Of note though, if June were observant, would be how while adjusting the band River never turned her arm upside down. "Means a lot, thanks! It's a kick butt bracelet, but like... Are you sure?"
Joel
"Yeah, i'm so used to it sometimes I forget other people aren't as flexible as me." They responded, same cheery tone ever present on their voice.

June watched as River accepted their gift. They nodded and smiled, laughed a little at how loose the bracelet was. All they could hope is that they got the gesture. 

"Yes yes! I insist. It looks nice on you." 

They returned their head to their hand, their somewhat cold palm sending a small shock up through their cheek. June realized how late it seemed to be getting but didn't make any effort to leave. June already stayed up late into the night, and had no issue spending their time with someone new. Time seemed to flow incredibly fast when these two were together, Unlike the few others June had met. A small spark between them had been ignited. 

June remembered the reason the two of them had met up in the first place, and wondered if June had done a good job at the task assigned to them. A comforting look was pulled through their normally eccentric expressions.

"Oh yes, are you feeling a little less tired?" 

They curiously questioned. The genuine smile now resting on Rivers features said was enjoying herself but of course no harm in asking. June had been subconsciously paying attention to the features of the girl sitting across from her. They couldn't deny the way her features pleasingly situated themselves together, overall she *Was* Indeed pretty. It felt like the outside world had somewhat faded out. The hum of students moving through the hallways on the other side of the closed door was tuned out background noise at this point.
Christi
◆ "Hm, felt that. I had a friend back home, right? And he was a total klutz. Like, two left feet even when he was just walking around, and, like... Jeez. I just don't understand how his balance was that bad."

□ Recounting yet another little anecdote from her life spent in Newark with an eclectic group of queer friends, she found herself sipping on the drink again, but this time she realized that she'd drank most of it. It was now naught but little puddles in the bottom of the can, dashes that needed to be struck out one way or another, and with that came the energy boost she didn't even realize she'd needed. Finishing off her can she gently tossed it onto the table and made a mental note to grab the darn thing before she left, then raised a hand to the bracelet, getting a feel for the material, how the charm attached to it dangled carelessly, how the blue-gold scheme wasn't her first choice yet wouldn't be leaving her arm any time soon.

▪︎ It was a gift, and she wasn't one to just throw them to the side.

◆ "A bit, yeah! It's certainly helping. I guess I don't gotta worry about tossing and turning tonight, huh?" She joked. "But then again I've maybe been up for four hours? So God knows I wouldn't have been able to sleep for a while anyways. Speaking of which, uh..." Digging into her pocket, she produced her phone, clicked it on, and noted the time. "Gee, it's kinda late. Shouldn't we getting back to our rooms? Surely there's some sort of curfew in a prison, right? Not trying to get rid of you, I just. I don't wanna get off on the wrong foot with the staff, y'know?"

▪︎ And so she giggled, trying to defuse any insult that might have been gleaned from it. She felt a genuine spark lit between the pair, and she didn't want to snuff it out any time soon.
Joel
June laughed a little at Rivers small story about one of her old friends. June noted how fondly she seemed to talk whenever she mentioned them. It was obvious River missed them and cared for them deeply. Seemed another thing the two had in common.

"Im glad!" Their cheery tone remained, weaving its way softly between each syllable. Just then, the mention of the time pulled them back down to earth, reminding them that simple moments can't last forever. As much as June loved to stay stationary in every feeling that ever brought them happiness. 

"Yeah probably." They groaned as they stood up from their chair. "I agree, you should probably head back to your dorm. Continue getting set up!" 

Their tone confirmed that June did not take the suggestion as an insult, simply a way to wrap everything up. The tall enby stretched their hands upwards, towering far beyond their average 6'6. They let a small hum reverberate in their chest as they felt their upper body pull tight, before returning their hands back to their side. They returned their gaze over to River, who had also stood up alongside June.

"Oh, one more thing." They noted. A small giggle in their voice.
_ _

June walked over to the side of the table River was situated on, and pulled her into a hug. Another arguably bad habit of June's. They had done the same thing with Owen and once again, he didn't seem to mind, so June took that as a sign it would be fine to do with others. June's tall frame was leaned over slightly, and they were definitely lifting River slightly off the floor, but their muscular arms made for a comforting hold. The hug was soft but solid and deeply genuine. June knew the two of them would get along, and was simply too excited to contain that to their own mind. Reluctantly letting her go after a few seconds, June snatched their empty can and made their way towards the door. The same bounce in each step, the same eccentric sway. They never seemed to change.

They pushed it open, and waited for River to follow. They looked over their shoulder with the same wonderful smile. The least June could do was hold the door open for her before they went on their separate ways.
Christi
◆ "Yeeee." Truly a child of the Internet age. "Anyways, yeah, I probably should... My room's in a bit of a state of disarray. So much music gear, so many embarrassing things, so many- wait, what are you-"

□ She'd read the room and had begun to shift herself around to get out of her chair easier, but just when she was about to set her feet solidly on the stained wood floors she felt it. *It* Was a hug, a soft yet snug one, and one that nearly lifted River out of her seat with a surprised *Eep!,* But soon enough she was reciprocating it, respectfully nestling her chubby cheek against June's chest, arms around their torso, hands gently massaging their back out of habit. It could have last forever and she wouldn't have been satisfied, so all she could do when she was let go was sink into her chair and try her best to hide the fact that the hug, by all means, had sent her into a complete tizzy of tingles, warmth, and calm.

▪︎ Her and June were going to get along juuuust fine.

"God, are we the same person deep down?" She'd chuckle as she rose to her feet, grabbing her own can and making sure her slippers were on right before strolling to the door and tossing the can out into a recycling bin. "Like, I think we're the same person, holy moly. I dunno though, maybe I'm just a bit loopy. Anyways, uh... Before I dip back to my dorm, you got any other social media? Twitter, Instagram... Maybe Discord? Just so we can stay in touch and plan mischief and stuff in private, heh."

▪︎ Goblin mode.
Joel
June felt how River returned the hug, and realized how long it had been since someone so comfortably fit in their arms. Their friend group was long gone, just over a year at this moment, so it had been a while since someone so openly accepted their attempts at friendship. June had so many things to look forward to.

"Im not sure. Maybe we are, perhaps thats why we get along so well." June giggled. They sure felt highly similar, but also different. There was solidarity for sure. Even if they had only met today, June felt a connection that ran much deeper. Maybe that was foolish, or naive to some. June couldn't care less. The warm fuzzy prickles that made their way along their skin couldn't be farther from negative and the way they talked felt so natural. 

With the same bounce, they followed alongside River. Their speed slowed all the way down to match her pace this time. They wanted to make sure they weren't rushing this time. Preserving every small moment.

"Oh! Yes, I have instagram although the quickest way to reach me is just to dm me on the school forum. Turns out, the admins rarely check there and have no access to personal dms." June tilted their head a bit with a smirk. 

"Which means, less chance of getting caught." They laughed, the same excitable sound. It was eccentric and bubbly. They paused for a minute, hesitation before realizing they had to leave, as much as their brain tugged at them to stay. Something on their smile faltered. They always hated endings.

"Lets meet up again soon okay Riv?" They gave another wide genuine smile. Their dimples visible once more.
Christi
• Thankfully, that was exactly why River felt so at home in those arms: the size difference. She was tiny, June was huge, what wasn't to love?

◆ "Yeah, I think so." Rather than bouncing alongside June – *How the heck are they doing that on platforms?,* She wondered – she walked rather normally, a pang of a feeling she could only describe as not wanting this short hangout to end tugging at her stubby little legs. Of course, though, all good things were eventually destined to come to an end, and if tonight were any indication then she'd have a lot more nights, days, and everything between with this kindred soul, this wonderful person she'd found herself friends with by pure dumb luck and a few well-timed chatroom messages.

▪︎ And now here they were, at the junction.

◆ "Oh, really? They don't check the private messages? Huh. You'd think they would check, but... Laissez-faire, I guess." She shrugged, then laughed. The wink was noticed, and she found it endearing. The hesitation brewing within June was showing itself, though, the arcade carpet around their head dimming, losing its vibrancy, and that sadness found itself to be infectious. Tugging at the corner of her lips, she tried her best to put on a grin, and though it was there her eyes betrayed her: she didn't want to say goodbye. However... "Yeah, sure. I'm down to hang out whenever, just shoot me a message or something, huh? Anyways... See ya later, June. Stay safe. Thanks for the drink, again!"

▪︎ And with a sad sigh she went off on her own, though at least she could take solice in knowing she'd made a new friend, and what a friend June had turned out to be already. Two sides of the same damn coin.
Andrew
Not often in the modern day do you hear the characteristic clicking of a typewriter, but Pernilla hasn't quite given hers up yet. She's always been old-fashioned like that. Click-click-click. A lovely little noise. It's quaint. Cheery. Nothing like those modern laptops with their muffled plastic thudding.

The office itself is also quite quaint - quilts hanging on the walls, Quality Street tins and quartz crystals sitting on the old wooden shelves, and even a Queen's Wreath in the windowsill. Someone has clearly tried to make this concrete office space home, and whether it's successful isn't quite certain, but it certainly radiates a quizzical sort of comfort. The colors are warm and inviting, red, orange brown, and all the furniture is more than a little old-fashioned.

In the center of the room, of course, is... Not the desk. Pernilla's desk, where she's sitting, is off to the side, against a wall. In the center of the room stands a lovely oak table, intricately carved and beautifully lacquered, with a pot of hot tea and a tray of cookies. Pernilla is, after all, expecting company any moment, and it wouldn't do not to give the poor girl a warm welcome.

She checks her watch, then gets up. Margarita should be there any minute.
John
And just like that, she was in trouble.

Well, one that she caused anyways by publicly admitting that yes, she indeed had lockpicks on her person, fashioned from paperclips, sourced from all over the Cradle. 

Still, the way the staff intruded into her room (despite the warning told to her in advance) and told her around caught her by surprise and triggered an aggressive reaction, an instinct she had unfortunately gotten used to years before she even got to the Camorra.

And everyone who could see the door of her room knew how that ended when Margarita was thrown outside of her dormitory with her arms tied around her back in a ribbon, complete with a loop and her hands dangling downwards.

She sat there, watching the staff mess about her room: they were surprisingly deliberate, searching her room and belongings despite the alleged paperclip lockpicks being right on the desk. It took her a few minutes to calm down and see this as more of a 'they're doing their job' kind of thing than a 'invasion of privacy' issue.

As she sat against the wall across her room, watching the staff search her bed thoroughly after having moved on from the desk, her thoughts wandered to things that had been bugging her mind for some time now.

Was she really here for her powers? Or for her crimes? What did they want from her? Why her?

Then came the doubts about herself. What was her purpose? What will she do after this? Was the Camorra only her real place in the world? What about her parents? What was her future? What about the-

"Margarita. Miss Pernilla wants you. Now."

Even before she could ask when, she got her answer. And so her long walk to the office began, accompanied by one staff, the other locking her door with a bag full of makeshift lockpicks.
.

Now that she was alone, she pushed open the heavy wooden door open and was presented with a... Cosy, very antiquated room, like the 40s, judging from the few photos of 1940s environments she had seen. The noise of the typewriter was just the icing on top, behind it was the one and only Pernilla.

"I... Uh... *Buona serata*? (`good evening?`)" She asked, pushing the door inwards further with her shoulders. She knew she was in deep shit, but Pernilla didn't seem like she was the one about to reprimand her.

What even is happening?
Andrew
Pernilla greeted the girl with a patient smile. It seemed necessary - after all, Margarita here had just been caught with a set of improvised lockpicks. Or, in a sense, she had caught herself. Which wouldn't do. She was Pernilla's responsibility, not to mention a... Particularly delinquent case. Pernilla didn't like thinking too hard about that.

"Hello, hello," She chirped, "Please, come in. Have a seat." She couldn't just say outright that Margarita wasn't there for a reprimand, but she did the closest thing she could with her tone of voice and her gentle smile. "There's tea and sweets on the table, you can go ahead and help yourself if you'd like, okay?"

Pernilla was not exactly something Margarita would be afraid of, at least at a glance. She was shorter than her, 170cm to Margarita's 181, and looked older too - naturally graying hair, the beginnings of wrinkles on her face. At a glance, Margarita could kick Pernilla's ass, and Pernilla had no intention of proving that idea wrong if Margarita happened to have it.

She pulled a chair out from the table for Margarita and gestured for her to sit, then moved to the opposite side of the table. Out of some sense of etiquette, or something to that effect, she waited for Margarita to sit down first.

"Really, I'm very sorry we couldn't have had this chat earlier. We've just been so busy, it passed me by. I really do hope you don't mind."
John
"Oh, erm... Okay." She responded, still slightly miffed at the thing that happened a few minutes ago. The feel of the place overall was quite the opposite of some of the facility's bare-concreted walls; a nice change of scenery. She only assumed that the staff got certain priveleges, and that one of them was a decorated office to their exact liking. Which was fair; why feel like you're at prison when you're *Working* In the prison. It felt fair at the end of it all.

"*Grazie* (`Thank you`), but erm... My hands are tied at the moment, literally. It's fine." She replied, one of her hands peeking out form behind her, waving. She could only smile so much, but at this point, it was just a formality. There was nothing to smile about.

The short stature of her contact must've left Pernilla slightly intimidated, but just by Margarita's tied-up arms and the fact that she held a position of seniority and authority, she wouldn't dare show aggression. She was already defeated; she didn't need to have her neck tied up next.

Sitting down when gestured (and thanking Pernilla quietly out of habit thanks to her mother), she leaned slightly forward as if she had bad posture as to not squish her already ribbon-knotted arms. Unprofessional for the situation and setting, but alas. Powers as usual making everything weird. Her heart beat faster as the inevitable conversation began, unsure of what would happen to her before she could get back out there.

"I... I don't, miss... Pernilla, *Si* (`yes`)? I really don't mind." The delinquent responded calmly, unlike... Five minutes ago. She wasn't the one who broke into her room after all, or the one who thought of tying her arms like a shoelace.
Andrew
Pernilla took a few moments to clock what she'd just seen. This poor girl - they tied her arms in a knot behind her back! Her cheeks went a little redder than they'd been before, and her face erupted in shock. "Oh dear, oh dear. I'm so sorry. One moment, I'll get you untied."

It practically only took a moment. From the moment Pernilla was in a position to do something about it, it took less than five seconds for Margarita's arms to be untied. Poor girl. Poor, poor girl. Yes, she'd had *Lockpicks* In her room, but that didn't justify *That!* What an absolute travesty.

Pernilla returned to her seat and sat down, sighing at the affair. It was quite clear to her that Margarita hadn't exactly been treated kindly, and certainly not appropriately. The girl wasn't even eighteen yet...

...And she'd been running cocaine for the mafia. Right.

"Well," Pernilla began, pouring herself a cup of sweet-smelling floral tea, "You had a few questions for me. I'm going to try to answer those as best I can. Considering the circumstances, you probably haven't really been properly introduced either, so I'll try to do that as well, but..."

She paused.

"First, I think it would be polite to introduce myself. My name is Pernilla Karlsson. I'm a teacher here at Newton's Cradle. I teach Swedish, English, and Art, and take care of all the plants." She looked back at the Queen's Wreath in the windowsill. Beautiful vine. She was right to put it there, she thought.

"I also help some of the people here with their powers, depending on what they are, and that includes you. Formally, I'm your 'contact'. What that means is that if you're having any problems with your powers, or your classes, or your room, or anything here, really, you can come talk to me and we'll figure out what we can do about it. Does that sound alright?"
John
She bit her lip out of shame as Pernilla went out of her way to untie her tied-up rope-like arms, a gesture she appreciated, but really didn't need. "Uh... Grazi- Th- thank you."

Rubbing her limbs where she felt the knot was tightened frankly a bit too much, she felt... Awkward. This woman in front of her really just went out of her way to help an immoral coke-pedaller, and she felt... Embarrassed...

Stretch's eyes locked onto her face as she spoke, her fine accent impressing her. Her neck craned sligtly to grt a better look at the wreath, decorating the room nicely. She thought so too, regarding the placement.

"So... Both a teacher for language, art, and gardening, *Plus* My guidance counsellor of some sort about... Almost anything, *Sí* Miss Pernilla?" She questioned whilst her bendy, unretracted rubber limb pointed at the sweets, silently asking if she could have one.

Boyz does this itslian have questions.
Andrew
Pernilla nodded, nudging the tray of cookies and sweets toward Margarita as an invitation to take one. Or more, for all Pernilla cared. "Yes, that's right. It's a lot of work, really, but we do manage it all. Now, I, um... I understand you had some questions. Let's see if I can answer them, okay?"

Pernilla quickly stepped over to her desk, retrieving a small stack of papers. The top one, the one Margarita can see, has logs from the intranet printed on it. It's unusual, Pernilla knows, but it helps deal with technology that's otherwise far too complicated.

"You asked if you were here serving a sentence for a crime, or you were here for your powers. Really, it's..." Pernilla paused, and sipped her tea. It's an uncomfortable subject to get into, but it's necessary. "You're something of a special case, *Margerit.*" She pronounced Margarita's name in... Realistically, she just said a Swedish equivalent. Not that she expected Margarita to mind.

"Mostly, people come here to learn about their powers. When and how to use them and not to use them. The risks involved. That sort of thing. And I think you have a lot of that to learn too." She sighed, then smiled. "Of course, you have a bit more than just your powers to contend with here."

She flipped the page, then fetched a pair of reading glasses from her pocket. The text was, in all fairness, quite small. "I don't like to say you're serving a sentence. Being here isn't supposed to be a punishment." 

...

"But you're a criminal, dear," She continued, "And that's part of why you're here too. I'd like to help you get, how do they say... On the straight and narrow. I think we all would. It's going to require a lot of difficult conversations, and I think it's going to require some hard work too, but would you feel okay talking about it a little today?"
John
"I... I don't mean to be rude, but... Isn't this place understaffed for whatever it is you're attempting to do?" Margarita asked out of curiosity, her arm pinching a cookie between her dexterous fingers before slinking back to its normal length with the cookie still in hand. 

The folder of papers, aptly named 'Intranet chat logs' which Margarita saw thanks to a slight act of rubbernecking, quickly snapped her head back to its place in between and on top of her shoulders. Caught red handed... Red-necked?

Then came the first question.

'Uncomfortable'. Huh.

"So... This place is specifically for us kids with powers, or whatever we're called, *Sí*? For us to learn how to deal with them or something." She guessed, crossing her bendy arms on her stomach in disbelief. Was this a human experiment thing? Or were their intentions genuine?

"Not a sente- Ma'am." She interrupted, leaning forward with a stern look on her face. "I grew up quickly. I worked for a criminal organization, I delivered entire bags of cocaine, and I've gotten into fistfights since I was *Dodici* (`twelve`). Whether I regret *Any* Of these or whether I think if tbat was good or bad is for me to decide, but I'm not a kid. Do not sugarcoat it. Please."

Leaning back, she briefly grunted in annoyance, letting catharsis do its thing before rubbing her fingers on her closed eyes. "Yes. I... Do. I would like tk talk about it more than a little today."

"Sorry..."
Andrew
Pernilla took a short moment to laugh. "Yes, dear, we're quite understaffed, but we can't really do anything about that. We just have to make up for it with Oliver."

...

Pernilla listened intently to Margarita's rant. She remained calm as she listened, though perhaps she wasn't too pleased about the whole situation. She didn't like being shouted at, but more than that, she didn't like that she had made Margarita want to shout at her in the first place.

She waited for Margarita to finish talking, then responded. "Dear, no. I know what you're thinking. You're not the first. You spent all these young years doing things you shouldn't have been doing, breaking the law, and now you're thinking *Here comes juvie to punish you.*" For the first time in the entire conversation, Pernilla looked stern. She had the air of a disapproving parent speaking to their child, trying to communicate why something was wrong, but... "Dear... Dear, no."

As quickly as she'd hardened, she softened again. "We don't punish people here, *Margerit.* You're not here to be punished, dear. You're here so you can get help. That's why I... Sugar coated it. Because you're not being punished, and I don't want you thinking you are."

She took a deep breath and a sip from her tea again. It was cooling down, but that was okay. She didn't care that much. "...It's okay. Let's talk about it." She smiled a sort of embarrassed pity-smile that was clearly supposed to be comforting. "Can I ask why you started? Delivering... You know. Breaking the law for money."

—- paused so lolman can sleep —-
John
"Who's Oliver?" She curiously asked.

Margarita's little rant left her tense and slightly stressed. 

"I just... Hate it so so much... When people treat me like a child who can't handle things, alright? I've beaten kids my age senseless until they cried like little bitches, called for help even when I was covering their mouth, and even begged to be let go and leave the town for-fucking-ever because why? Because they chose to fucking try me. And yet people here think I can't handle bad news."

Margarita leaned back, her mannerism of looking surfacing lightly as she covered her mouth with one hand, a noticeable gap between her index and middle finger forming between them, enough for one whole cigar. "F- fuck, I need a smoke... Shit shit shit, shit..." She whispered to herself. 

"Then if it's not punishment... Why then? Why am I here? Why... Fucking help a- a- a goddamned goner like me? Why waste money on a worthless human rubber band? God knows there are other people like me out there that need it; you and I both know that."

A calm Margarita finally emerged, putting her hand back down as she began and finished a breathing routine. "So wanna know why I started that? Easy; money. I just had to walk around the city holding anywhere from an engagement ring full of cut diamonds to shoeboxes full of cocaine and I'd get paid two hundred to two-fifty Euros for one day's worth of work. I made more money than both of my parents could ever hope to make in one day. I needed the money to give my parents the life they deserve; they don't deserve living in a poor excuse if a home, they deserve living in a comfortable house. Fresh paint, clear windows, good bed, new shit... You know. Better food..."
Andrew
Pernilla decided not to elaborate on who Oliver is. She'd mention it later. Instead, she just listened to Margarita vent everything out. This was a girl who needed that time. Someone who needed to speak, to assert herself, and to get all the pain and regret out of her system.

Margarita had said something... *"Whether I regret any of these or whether I think if that was good or bad is for me to decide".* It seemed like she had decided - at least to Pernilla. It seemed like regret.

"...250 euros a day. Of course." A good amount of money. Certainly enough to keep a family comfortable, especially in a poorer area. It made sense. Pernilla sighed a sigh of comfort and relief. "You risked life and limb working for the mafia. You knew what you were doing was illegal, that you could go to jail for many many years, and you still did it. You did all of this... For your family. It wasn't about you. You did what you could to make money for your family because you thought *They* Deserved better." 

In spite of the subject matter, Pernilla looked almost proud. *Almost.*

"Of course I want to help you, *Margerit.* You did all of this for someone else, because you're a good person, and you always were. I don't think it's a waste of money to help you get a better job. In fact, I'm not sure there's a better way to spend that money at all, dear."
John
Now, Margarita and her family had a home. The deed belonged to them, and it was indisputable. The problem was, the house itself is old; it needed touch-ups and repairs they couldn't afford. The furniture was old, and the food they were getting is no better than the ones being served at Newton's Cradle. They could be worse off, but her parents were working their asses off but still found no improvement to the point Margarita felt like she had to step in.

"Yeah, it was for them, if not the three of us. The more I think about it now, Ma'am... I don't regret it as much as I did, and I was to be given a chance? I'd go back and do it." She replied without confidence. She knew her answers here would affect her stay, but as she always believed: family, honesty, and integrity above all.

She stretched one of her arms slowly towards her new guidance counsellor, the back of her palm resting on top. "I just want to ask you; is this the hand of a good person?" Marks, bruises, scratches, scars, cuts; these were the hands of a person who had fought and clawed their way through life starting at an unfortunately young age. "If I'm really worth it, then... What now? Do I just get job training and be on my way?"