We Are Bulletproof

Hey handsome ;)
You got any more of that prystal stuff?

@Ian Yi

Val whistled in astonishment as he compared the address that he'd been given to the palatial building in front of him. Matched up all right. This was it, Ian's "humble" abode. Just the landscaping alone looked like it cost more than the sum of Val's organs. He could honestly say that this was a house that he would never have thought to pass by, much less step foot in.

Much less step foot in to sleep with the owner.

Who kept a harem.

Yeah.

That was how fucked up Val's life had become. Just the other night, he'd been pelted by a dead cat. (Okay, it fell from a window somewhere above him and he didn't know that it was strictly meant for him, but it was still creepy as FUCK!) He met a drug dealer, Mark, who wanted to do lines with him because he was "lonely." (Which Val was still a little weirded out by, but that had been some good shit!)

And now he was here to sell his body to a harem owner for some top of the line designer drugs. All-in-all, Val thought that he was coming out the winner in this deal. Ian was definitely easy on the eyes. Plus, he had personality--a definite asset as far as Val was concerned and in this case, the beggar was definitely being choosy.

He walked up the driveway, apprehensive only because the opulence was getting to him. Anybody who could afford a house like this must've been rolling in cash. Hell, he wouldn't have been surprised if Ian stuffed his mattress with hundred dollar bills! Did somebody like Val belong here? He felt like this was the start of either a dumb horror film, or a porn with a badly written script. Either way, somebody was gonna get boned--just depended on if it was metaphoric, or literal.

Still. He didn't think Ian was some kind of sadistic psycho. Just a sadist in general, if he was to be believed. Val breathed out through the nose. No going back now. He chose this place over the club because he genuinely wasn't welcomed at the clubs, so this was a product of his own misbehavior. Lifting a hand, he prodded the door buzzer twice and then stepped back to wait for a butler or one of the harem boys to open the door.

When the door opened, however, he did a dumb. And he didn't really know why he did it, but he shouted "Mustard!" in case it was Ian. It wasn't. A totally bored-looking pretty-boy stood in the doorway, with one hand on the knob, giving him a look that clearly said he was Not Amused.

"Are you Val?" he asked, in a drawl every bit as bored as his expression.

"...yeah." Val kept his head held high, not to be outdone by some harem boy. He was let in and he did everything he could not to gawk at his surroundings. Shit.

"Stay here. I'll bring Ian." Bored Pretty-Boy gave him a scornful once-over. "And don't touch anything."

Just to piss him off, Val reached out and touched one of the plants sitting on top of ornate, matching stands on either side of the door. "Touched it. What now?"

"Cute." Pretty-Boy turned on his heel and swiftly ascended the stairs, while behind him, Val made a very rude gesture.

Stumbling out of the home of his newest drug dealer and best friend, Mark, Val lurched drunkenly out onto the sidewalk. He shivered as the cold hit him full blast, but it did nothing to dispel the haze that had settled over his mind. The world existed in a blur. He heard the rush of a car passing, but the voices of people walking past him were muted. When he looked down, he could have sworn he saw every pebble and crack in the pavement in painful detail, while the edges of his vision swirled and danced to a kaleidoscope of colors.

Where to next, though? He had already been booted from his last place, by the friend whose couch he'd been crashing on for the past few weeks. Without any money to line his pockets--not even the jingle of a dime or two--he was at a loss. The shelter was probably open, though. He might go there and ride out the high, if he could orient himself in the right direction.

Val set off with determination, despite not having the faintest idea of where he was actually headed. He had no concept of how long he was out there or how far he walked. Street after street, block after block, his feet led him astray and it wasn't until he hit the seedier part of town that he realized he was lost.

Sensing someone behind him, Val turned his head to look, but was met with a blank wall. He frowned. Blinked hard and shook his head, as if he could shake off the fog inside his head. When he looked again, there was still nothing there but now his skin crawled unpleasantly with the feeling of being watched. Val sped up, then turned a corner but didn't keep walking. He waited there, just around the jut of the wall, in the hopes of catching his stalker. 

@Eli Oliver @Harzeko

Hey
Is this Ian? Friend of mine says you might have something good.

Jamie? You know him?

@Ian Yi

Shit.

It was so fucking cold.

Val drew his thin jacket closer to his body as he hustled along, mindful of the patrol car parked at the curb just a half block away. He'd given it a skittish and nervous look as he passed, but the cop inside--who was a total babyface and might've looked more at home in a 90s boy band than in uniform--didn't notice him. If he did, he didn't show it.

With shaking hands, Val pulled out a scrap of paper from his jacket pocket. 8th and Main. Back alley. That was all there was on there, but he knew what it meant and more importantly, he knew what he could get there. With the crisp ten dollar bill that some guy handed him clutched firmly in his other hand--tucked away into the meager warmth of his other pocket--he turned the corner onto 8th street.

There were a lot of buildings but only one noticeable alley. All the other little nooks and crannies didn't seem to offer enough hiding room; plus, Val could see somebody lurking just near the mouth of the alley.

He hurried towards it. "Hey." Val's glance flicked over the guy. Yep. Looked the part. "I got ten bucks. How much is that gonna get me?" No pre-amble, thanks. He needed the stuff now, before the withdrawal kicked in.