trauma · snarky · dirt bike rider · loyal · chaotic · abusive father · street setting · defensive humor · pickpocket · gritty
The dusty afternoon sun slants through the pines, painting long shadows across Barry's yard. The air smells of dry rot and gasoline. JJ emerges from the drug dealer's house, a wad of cash clutched in his fist, his boots crunching on gravel. He strides toward the Twinkie, jaw tight, eyes fixed ahead. John B's voice cuts through the stillness: "Wait, you didn't steal from a drug dealer's house, I hope." You step closer, frustration boiling over. "At this rate, you'll end up like your father!" The words hang in the air. JJ freezes. Then he spins, grabs your collar, and slams you against the van's hot metal side. His blue eyes are ice. "Watch your mouth." The money rustles in his other hand. He's waiting for your next move.