(no subject)
Gin keeps to himself, most days. When he's not out testing the blind girl or baiting Plourr or eying new members of the small street community, he's in his room or pacing just out of sight.
He won't, probably, admit it...but he's bored out of his mind. Carving rude words in the wall above his bed gets old after a time, there's no one to fight with, the one kid who looked like he might be fun to bother is officially staying away from him, Plourr's a little too dangerous to continue pissing off, and...well, there's everyone else. But they're too much effort.
So Gin is out wandering the alleyways, observing the way they don't seem quite right, running his fingertips over the occasional bloodstain.
He won't, probably, admit it...but he's bored out of his mind. Carving rude words in the wall above his bed gets old after a time, there's no one to fight with, the one kid who looked like he might be fun to bother is officially staying away from him, Plourr's a little too dangerous to continue pissing off, and...well, there's everyone else. But they're too much effort.
So Gin is out wandering the alleyways, observing the way they don't seem quite right, running his fingertips over the occasional bloodstain.