"Northwest central my ass!" JaMarcus accused.<br/><br/>Warren took out his driver's license and handed it over, "Dunmoore street, born and raised."<br/><br/>The topic of conversation had been revolving around coming up poor and in rough places. To call Dunmoore street a rough inner city neighborhood was a bit of a stretch. Everybody that lived there struggled and anybody who was out and about late a night could expect to run into trouble of some sort. It was different than other places in South City. The gangs there were usually some flavor of neo-aryan supremacist who spent most of their time cooking meth and staying blasted on the portion of the batch they weren't trying to sell. It wasn't a safe place and Warren had to figure out how to handle himself early on. When the sun went down, the smart move was for him to stay indoors with whatever he'd checked out from the library that day, while moms was pulling a double shift at the plant. She handled herself well enough too, making her way home. Warren had come by being touched honestly. JaMarcus handed him back his license and eyed him suspiciously. Warren showed him his arms and pulled he sleeves up on his polo shirt to sort of try and prove he didn't have any ink.<br/><br/>"I stayed away from all that shit." Warren said.<br/><br/>He mixed up a gin and juice and slid it over to JaMarcus as a peace offering. It only earned him a scowl in return.<br/><br/>"You think I like gin and juice because I'm black?" JaMarcus asked in a rather serious tone.<br/><br/>Warren smiled at him, "Naw. I think you like gin and juice because you've already drank three."<br/><br/>Laughter erupted from around the table which seemed to rob JaMarcus of his fury. Ever how real or fake it might have been Warren couldn't say. Loud roaring laughter came from behind him as Warren nearly toppled over sideways and almost spilled what was left of his rum and coke as a large and heavy hand came crashing down on his right shoulder. Scotty Rush was large mountain of a man and had been the team's chief spokesman that Warren had negotiated his way into the party with. Scotty was a vodka drinker mostly, along with some manner of swill that turned his drink blue. To be as large as he was, Scotty was a light weight and rather happy drunk. Warren was thankful for small (or large in Scotty's case) miracles, as the line backer was presently wiping tears from his eyes with is wrist while barely managing not spill blue vodka all over Warren.<br/><br/>"You tried to bust his balls JaMarcus. AND HE GOT YOU!" Scotty roared.<br/><br/>Slowly, JaMarcus smiled a bit, no longer able to hold his scowl. He bid everyone in the kitchen farewell with a quick "Fuck Y'all." before deciding to mingle in the living room which had been converted into a dance floor. It had happened. All the considerable things that marked Warren as one of the touched aside, it was his ability to make friends, where ever he went, that he found most uncanny. It hadn't always been the case. Warren had to attend a consolidate high school, with a lot of different students from a lot of different places. He'd never been any place where division between social classes had ever been so pronounced or used like warfare as often as they were. College was different and Warren was glad for it.<br/><br/><b>"Did you come to a party as a loner?"<br/>
</b><br/>The girl he'd seen earlier spoke and reached past him for some rum and started placing some odds and ends on her plate. She smelled as nice as she looked and none of the fellows seemed to be hanging around too close.<i>That's a damn shame.</i>Warren enjoyed the rare and occasion romp now and again, but never let normal folk get very close. Anybody that could become a permanent fixture in his life could get to know him. And they could learn things that Warren wasn't willing to share. Much like the guy she was talking to, Warren was a loaner. Then she looked at him.<br/><br/><b>"I'm Yezi."</b><br/><br/><i>OH! She's talking to me?<br/>
</i><br/>"Uh. Ya, I didn't show up with anybody. I'm Warren."<br/><br/>As if almost sensing his need, Scotty came to his rescue, "Less like loaner and more like con man. The TV and everything got delivered today. Wasn't supposed to be hooked until next week. Dude shows up on the front yard, says he knows it's here and he can get it installed in exchange for free drinks. I was all like whatever, he'll never get it done in time. But...as you can see..."<br/><br/>Scotty stepped toward the fridge for more ice with his empty glass. Warren smiled at Yezi and shrugged, "I'm a handy guy to have around. Just don't tell anybody or I'll be up to my eyeballs in flat screens and digital assists."<br/><br/>Warren chanced a look out into the living room. A few ladies had brought suitcases for reasons Warren thought rather obvious. Two girls had changed into bikini's and were dancing together on a large coffee table. Somewhere in the back of his mind he'd know this was<i>that </i>kind of party. Articles of clothing lay about like a bread crumb trail leading up the stairs and another trial leading into one of the ground floor bedrooms.<i>Well, that didn't take long. </i>A girl was passed out on the couch and was quickly scooped up and carried off by one of the other players. Warren's stomach knotted up a little, but he turned back to Yezi, smiled and held up a finger.<br/><br/>"I'll be right back."