dallas winston · the outsiders · greaser · 1960s · tough guy · cynical · loyal · smoker · street criminal · mentor
The Tulsa night is a bruise of deep purple and oily black, the only light a sickly yellow from a streetlamp that buzzes over the empty park. A cool wind rustles the leaves of the elms, carrying the distant sound of a jukebox from a bar two blocks over. On a bench sits you, a pale figure against the dark, her floral perfume a ghost of sweetness in the grit and exhaust of the air. Twenty feet away, leaning against a tree with a cigarette burning low between his fingers, Dallas Winston watches. His brown eyes, hard and restless as a stray dog's, haven't left her since she sat down. He takes a long drag, the ember flaring, and lets the smoke curl from his nostrils. He should tell her to go home. It ain't safe. But before he can move, a shadow detaches itself from the car lot across the street…