There came a time in every boys life where for one instance the safest possible move appeared to be admitting defeat...<br/><br/>For Nino this wasn't it.<br/><br/>The water was already warm when he dived in which was always a welcome change to the usual arctic blast. The showers in this building seemed to come with a certain nostalgia for pre-electricity Russia and rattled and quaked whenever forced to heave up water. It was like something from a childhood nightmare crawling up the pipework the moment you turned the knobs.<br/><br/>Still, at least it was clean.<br/><br/>The teen threw his head back and gargled for a while, seeing how much he could cup in his cheeks before it overflowed. Apparently not all that much, at least not when smirking to the image of Hamster Nino. Whilst immersing in water a lad could immerse in thought, be it of a silly, hamsterish nature or deep, evolving intellectuality on life's purposes. Just something in the patter of liquid to naked skin and warmth to muscle made the stream of consciousness flow that much better.<br/><br/>Nino squeezed his eyes shut, hands working whatever crap was in the first bottled he'd groped for into his hair.<br/><br/>What had the little runt thought of his picture? The artists in him squeamishly wrung it's hat and loosened it's tie for nerves. It might have been a quick sketch, but it was one of his fucking best! He'd wring the little blighters neck if he'd binned it, honestly! It had actually LOOKED like Cain! Down to the irritatingly flicky wee nose 'n ever'thin!<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">"Oi! Oi! Over 'ere you fucking faggot! Your fucking phone is fucking ringing! Some lonely cunt wants to talk to ya! Here! Heeerrreee you dozy pri--"</span><br/><br/>Nino opened one eye irritably and glanced toward the crumpled pair of jeans on the floor.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">"Pick. It. Up. You. Useless. Tosser. Naaa naaa! Naa naa! I know a song that'll get on y'nerves, I know a--"</span>it sang to him in a muffled high pitched, yet still distinctively cockney, squeak.<br/><br/>Nino groaned to himself as it started on verse three. Seriously, he thought he'd changed that tone since the incident with his grandmother and family dinner...<br/><br/>He hurriedly clambered out of the cubicle, nearly slipping on the soap and dying twice and rushed to the cocky contraptions side as it started informing him all about the type of fucker that'd want to speak to a low life like himself. He struggled it out of the limp pocket, dripping water everywhere and answered, heart banging like a child on a drum.<br/><br/>"Seriously! I thought you'd never answer!" a bore female voice rang through the static.<br/><br/>"I nearly died picking this up!" Nino blinked, a small laugh of disbelief choking it's way up from his windpipe, "What the hell, Katie!?"<br/><br/>"Hey Nina! Miss me?"<br/><br/>He could just sense the twisted little grin at the other end. He could have purred that answer, "Always! I--"<br/><br/>"You bet your tight buns you did!" Katie didn't just say things; she demanded them. And what was worse... was, well... they were never quite...<span style="font-style: italic">normal</span>things. They were said in an average overzealous teenage kind of way, but she'd always twist the words to fit her own perverse cause.<br/><br/>But then who in the group fit in? Really?<br/><br/>"We're going on the pull," she said ever a woman of perfect grace and etiquette.<br/><br/>Nino raised an eyebrow, looking for a towel with his free hand, "What did your last slave," meaning boyfriend, "die of?"<br/><br/>Her tone sharpened and darkened, "Nosiness," she hinted.<br/><br/>Nino chuckled, "So we're going out when...?"<br/><br/>"Tell you the fuckin' truth my Italian stallion, we're on our way to pick you up-- ain't we!? Josh and Leafy send their lovings!" True enough he could hear roads and voices.<br/><br/>"Noo!" He laughed, "Not Leafy! You're joking me! Hey-- Hey!" he paused, a lighthouse light bulb of an idea settling in his skull, "Hang on!" he raised a hand, regardless of the fact there was no audience to see it, "I have someone! I'm bringing someone!"<br/><br/>Katie snorted, "Haven't you learnt your lesson yet? You KNOW what happens when YOU invite people!"<br/><br/>"I invited<span style="font-style: italic">you</span>!"<br/><br/>"Fucking ace example!" she enthused, "I swear there ain't enough room in the car! Leafy takes up about three seats on hi--" there was a crackly whine from the receiver that sounded suspiciously like a third voice protesting.<br/><br/>"He's only small!" Nino observed hopefully.<br/><br/>"How small? Hand bag small or sit on your knee small? I don't mind playing car seat or..." there was a dangerous pause, "Hold the bus!"<br/><br/>Nino winced, sensing the grin and just... waiting for it.<br/><br/>"Nina you dirty bitch! No wonder you've been ignoring my advances all these years! ... HE," she couldn't have emphasized it any more if she screamed it, "could always sit on<span style="font-style: italic">your</span>lap?"<br/><br/>"Fuck off!"<br/><br/>Katie cracked up, still wheezing and sighing, probably wiping a tear from one gleeful eye when she finally replied, "FINE! We'll budge up, make room for one more! Can this kid buy his own drinks or are we shelling out double trouble?"<br/><br/>"Who the hell knows," Nino grinned.<br/><br/>"We're on our way then!"<br/><br/>"Sup!"<br/><br/>Katie hung up first. She always did. The girl was semi-allergic to idle chat or just about anything that didn't concern her or sex. Doubly both.<br/><br/>Nino sighed and threw a towel around his waist and his clothes over his arm. He slipped out the room like an urban genie, shrouded by mist and with folded arms. Kiddo, Cain looked to be asleep, curled up on the blankets, headphones blasting something or another, it didn't matter. From where he was stood it all sounded like echo's in a tin can.<br/><br/>He clipped Cain around the shoulder with an open palm, "Oi" he yanked out a headphone, "Kiddo! Get yer dancin' shoes on. We're goin' out!"<br/><br/>He waltzed past over to the drawers rummaging for something clean and semi-decent to change into.