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"Yeah, I watch over the kids when they run away from home, it's tough work, but after a while, we get this connection, you know?"

Another day of lying and stealing in Middling for Writ. His angle this time was charming ladies into donating their funds for the Church of Saint Carol Anne of Middling (SCAM), apparently there was a program where wayward children and homeless people went to find faith in god and whatnot. Writ forgot what the original mission statement he had in his head, so now he was just improvising.

Well, he was telling the truth, sort of. He finally found a small place in Downers, he had enough money for rent, but he still needed the deposit. So he found a bucket in the dumpster and wrote on the back of a flyer, and all he had to do was start preaching and begging. It was an elaborate way of panhandling, but he figured he can get a one up on all the hobos around here if he said he was working for them.

"You there." Writ pulled the hooded godling by the shoulder and went face to face with him, "You look like an honest do-good- Whoa! Seth?"

Writ's eyes widened. He hadn't seen Seth since the blackout. He changed. A lot. The scent of pot was practically leaking from his body. Looks like he's been at the Scene recently, and the Scene's had his way with him. Writ had his own drug habits, but peyote had a nicer smell.

"You kinda smell funny, living up the teenage life, huh?"

The rainbow in middling licked at his ice cream cone, one hand stuffed in his pocket. He found it hard to enjoy the ice cream like he usually would. though.

He missed Vale.

He missed the old Vale. The old Vale who didn't kill people.

But, whatever. He could live without him. Right? Right. He had done so in the past. He'd be fine.

Eventually.

Quinn saw the ears before he saw anything else. A tall pair of coyote ears, and then a hoodie. Standing next to each other.

Writ! And that jerk. What was his name? Seth. Yah. The kid with the nice hair.

The hand that wasn't holding ice cream clenched. He bit at the cone ferociously, and walked up to the two of them.

"Hey, Writ. Hey, a*****e."

"So....what do you, like, want?" He stared, not really making eye contact with Writ but rather focusing on his cheeks instead.

Seth subconsciously rubbed at his neck, the spot where Quinn had bit him on sight of him, it had healed up all right, though there was now a noticeable, vaguely bite shaped scar just below his collar.

"Hmph" he clam expression breaking into a clearly bitter one. "Yeah..." He really wasn't in the mood (Or state of mind) for fighting. tha and he was running low on sand on the account of his neighbours discovering it made a great roll up.

Ah. Writ could see where this was going. Seth and Quinn had met, and they didn't get along. What did you do with two guys that didn't get along and had a god-given license to kill one another? Writ liked them both. Well, at least Quinn anyway, Seth didn't do much to sway his opinion of him either way. Though he would've liked it if they didn't decide to fight right in front of his donation operation. Writ put himself between the two. He gave both of them a look. It wasn't a glare, just a friendly, "Look guys, starting a fight in the middle of my donation scheme will seriously reduce the chances of me having a home to go to, kay?"

Then a smile.

"Oh, you know, collecting funds." Writ said quietly, so the passerbys didn't hear, "You guys wanna help me pay some rent?"

Quinn sighed. "Fine, I won't fight with him. For now." He glared at the other boy, but left it at that. He brought his gaze back over to Writ, and then rolled his eyes.

"Keep your moneymaking schemes to yourself! You can make your own cash, Writ." ...Was what he meant to say. Unfortunately, what came out was:

"Sure! What do you need? And I'm sure Seth will be willing to help, too. Right Seth? Good." He smiled brightly at Writ.

Damn you, attractive coyote-boy. Damn you and your cuteness hindering my ability to think clearly!

Whilst being glared at and give a look of equal venom Seth's attention was turned to the tattoos on Quinns chest. Under normal circumstances, they would have just been bog standard tattoos, but he was stoned, the the patterns they what where suddenly very interesting. He zoned out for a moment whilst he stared at Quinns chest until he was nudged by Writ and snapped out of it.

"Oh?" He just caught Quinn referring to him about something. "I...suppose" He shrugged, he didn't have any money, he was still looking and hoping he could get a job soon himself. Though right now he was fine trading with stoners.

Was Quinn hitting on him?

NuzzleNuzzle.

Quinn was hitting on him.

Writ had his suspicions, and this confirmed them. He just wished he didn't find out quite so... physically.

So he put him down slowly (Literately and figuratively), tried to anyway, the words were jumbled up even with his quick thinking "Uh, Quinn? I... I know there's other ways of collecting money, but... I think I'll stick with something more 'family friendly'."

Oh wait, convincing people? Writ knew that it was a quick lie to compensate for Quinn's touchiness, but he'll take it. Anything to make things a little less awkward.

"Oh.... Okay, yeah, sure! If you and Seth could help me out, that'd be great." He reached into a recycling bin and found a couple of coffee cans.

"Here" Writ handed the two godlings cans, and gave them both a pat on the shoulder, "You guys are officially working for the Church of Saint Carol Anne of Middling. "