<strong>Name:</strong><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 16pt;">William</span><br/><strong>Age:</strong>17<br/><strong>Crime:</strong>Wrong Place, Wrong Time<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Prison Cell Opposite Group 1<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong>Group 1, Kenzie specifically<br/><br/><hr/><br/>Perhaps one of the few who got a full nights sleep was William. Being locked up for the night was not exactly a new thing for William, and neither were threats, but some of those threats were so much worse than normal. Evil, so William thought to himself in a dream, felt inappropriate to what these policemen where. Demonic, so did William continue in his way, was closer but gave too much power. So, if one was to argue it, maybe William's rest was not the best it could be.<br/><br/>Of course a nights rest is only as good as morning breakfast, so that meant a horrible night sleep as there was no breakfast. There was only an echo of clicks and then whispers. The word "escape" fluttered itself to William's ears and the once sleeping teen woke like a dead man being blasted with a bolt of lightning.<br/><br/>“Huh, what?” Eyes still heavy as the fog of sleep clouded the sight in that way, “What’s going- Oh, what the fuck!!” Quickly standing and running to the bars of his cell, William shot a very harsh glare to the now escaping group. “That’s bullshit,” A harsh whisper, but really a yell under his breath, “You’ll find a way to get me out or I’m screaming my fucking head off. I’m not getting stuck with more blame of more shit I didn’t do! I’ll fucking do it. You know I can get loud. I’ll rattle my cage and shit fire if I have to.” William continued from there, using a few choice expletives and curses based around the motif of sex and feces.<br/><br/><br/><hr/><hr/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 18pt;">Group 2</span><br/><br/>MEANWHILE, in a Deil/Butcher Shop, an older gentleman who just so happened to own said Deli/Butcher Shop was met with what appeared to be a crying young lady with cleavage apparent, who was of a certain alternative style. At first there was anger, but tears and breasts do things to a man. “Come to Uncle Saul, and he’ll get everything straightened out.” The large deli-owner reached out and took the poor thing’s wrist, guiding her back down the stairs. “We’ll call the police together and explain everything so that you don’t get in trouble, and I get my door repaired by my insurance. How does that sound?” Saul’s eyes squinted, and grip upon Sarah tightened, “Or you’re lying! Are you lying, sweet-thing? Sweet little one’s shouldn’t lie!”