Blaze needed some air.<br/><br/>He'd successfully avoided the incessant buzzing of the cell phone in his pocket all evening, but it was getting hard to ignore. The brisk fall air was refreshing as he stepped onto the porch, a slight stagger in his step from the few beers he'd had. The male settled on the stairs of the porch, pulling out his phone and cigarettes as he did so. Lighting his cigarette first, he took a deep drag to prepare himself for the...<span style="font-style: italic">34 unread text messages</span>. He groaned.<br/><br/>Every single message was from Crystal, his ex of almost a month now, all varying drastically in degree of affection and hatred. She was trying to guilt him, and the fact that he had to remind himself of that told the man that it was working. It was at that moment Blaze decided that he was going to sleep with the first person that gave him the time of day that evening. It wasn't a stretch - he was conventionally attractive, with his dark hair and hazel eyes. Of course, his bad boy band t-shirts and beat up jeans helped his case. The right combination of alcohol and frustration made the 23 year old famously flirtatious. Turning off his phone completely, Blaze stood and prepared to dive back into the thrumming house behind him.<br/><br/>"Watch where you're going, dickhead!"<br/><br/>The outburst prompted Blaze's attention back to the door, just in time to spot a tipsy looking brunette stumble past a familiar face in the doorway. He immediately recognized the angry looking male as Devin Lowe, a notoriously bad influence and the last person Blaze wanted to deal with that night. As if on cue, Devin stepped forward, aggressively shoving the brunette's shoulder. "Who do you think you are, anyway?!"<br/><br/>It was probably the alcohol, but Blaze felt like he had to intervene.<span style="color: red">"Devin, let the guy go, he clearly has somewhere to be."</span>he spoke up, almost immediately regretting the decision.<br/><br/>Devil looked at him for a long hard moment, as if he didn't recognize him off the bat. However, the look melted to something more offended. "Shut the fuck up, Blaze!" He turned back to the nameless brunette. "What do you have to say for yourself, asshole?"<br/><br/>----<br/><br/>Quinn was getting restless. It was a Sunday, and he was out of his anxiety medication, and therefore wide awake when the clock struck 9PM. The TV was nothing more than a buzz, not doing any good in distracting the blonde from his thoughts. With huff, the male lifted himself off the couch, deciding that a trip to the store was in order. Anything to wear him out was more than welcomed at that point. He braced himself for the relatively mild weather by putting on a thick blue sweater. He was tall, but didn't have the meat on his bones to guard himself from the cold, so most of his wardrobe consisted of sweaters and cardigans. Grabbing his keys, wallet and cigarettes, Quinn was well on his way.<br/><br/>Before he knew it, the 24 year old was deep into the frozen food section of his favorite grocery store. His motions were relatively mechanic, green eyes not really focusing on the food he was browsing, subconsciously knowing he'd just pick out the same thing he always did in the long run. His mend wondered elsewhere, particularly on his psychologist appointment in the morning. It'd been two whole months since he was released from the hospital, and he honestly thought he was doing well. But that didn't take the edge off.<br/><br/>Grabbing what he knew he was going to get anyway, the blonde started towards the front of the store silently, not immediately registering the ruckus overtaking the storefront. A series of men came crashing in, easily dispersing throughout the store. Before Quinn could react, a man was grabbing his shoulder, forcing him to his knees, his basket cluttering to the ground beside him. Quinn's heart was beating in his ears, drowning out the clamor and discussion going on around him. He bared registered the feel of the gun at the back of his head, but he saw the guns pointed at the heads of the other patrons and he suddenly felt very disjointed. As though this whole thing wasn't happening --<br/><br/>(( I hope this is good :D I purposefully left Quinn's a little open ended, cause I didn't want to disclose the nature of his mental illness quite yet! ))