Got an Itch? (open)

[kisa]

She was alone for the time being, blissfully alone. She tapped out a cigarette from the pack in her pocket, placing it between her lips and lighting it, taking a long drag, holding the smoke before letting it trail from her mouth in wisps, looking like a smoking dragon. So far the only one who really didn't piss her off was her roommate, and well, the boy, Wren. She didn't mind most females, but all males larger than her were a threat. And she hated it here, would have preferred to be in jail, but her lawyers had decided this was the best because of her past. All she had to do was sit still and look a little contrite.

She snickered, the smoke coming out in bursts now, as she took a final drag on the cigarette, tapping out a new one and lighting it from the end of the finished one before stubbing the butt out on the stone stairs, pulling out her flask, filled with vodka. That was the only thing Ivan kept sending her a lot of, cigarettes an vodka, because he knew that it kept her calm and understood. Ivan had not been a fan of Olaf and had wanted to take her in, when he had found out what had happened. Of course, that wouldn't have been allowed since her father was very cultural. Over his dead body, but of course, he was dead now, and Ivan was her guardian.

Kisa brushed some hair out of her face, watching the smoke billow up and outwards, curling and wisping around everywhere, looking as though something ethereal was here. She smiled slightly, a curling of lips that didn't give way to what she was actually thinking, of her small empire back home. Oh, even in here she was still managing to keep it going, her supplies still here. Whatever someone wanted, she either had or could get, provided the price was right.

The small russian hardly cared if the teachers knew or caught her, she didn't feel bad. The system hadn't helped her when she'd needed it, so why should she listen to it now? It was a mess, a fucking mess that she didn't want to be a part of.."Yet here I am," she breathed, her accent rolling her 'r's and making her seem just a tiny bit exotic.

[Monique James]

Monique hadn't been here long and already she was bored. Bored led to her doing 'bad' things, at least in the eyes of other people. After all, she wound up here didn't she? To make things worse, she hadn't been able to bring the majority of her stash with her. Stupid Matt and his stupid searches. But this was a delinquent school. Someone had to be a dealer. She definitely needed something to take the edge off of this place. A small amount of pot and a few pills would only take her so far. And when she didn't have something to take the edge off the world, she got even more fed up with the idiots and assholes that populated it. But where would people who had stuff to sell hide?

Folding her arms across her chest Monique tapped the fingers of her right hand in a steady, quick rhythm while she thought. She hated not knowing people yet. That meant she'd have to go and be civil until she found out who had what and was willing to sell. Or where she could go to get some. Scowling to herself, she pushed a stubborn lock of hair behind an ear, before starting her rounds of the school. She had found nobody until she came to the main stairs where there was a lone girl, smoking.

The teen stood at the top of the stairs, observing the other girl. She didn't seem to be new here. Or at least as new as Monique herself was. But would she know anything? Her pondering almost caused her to miss the soft utterance, a lightly sarcastic chuckle escaping her as she did. "We all are." Monique replied, her voice equally as sarcastic as the laugh was, pulling out one of her own cigarettes and lighting it, enjoying the smoke as it passed through her body and out into the air as she slowly made her way to where the other girl was.

"I'll keep this short since I'm not in the mood for long conversation. Who keeps the good stuff here?" Her tone was neutral and bored, but with the tiniest tint of agitation to it. She wasn't one for dealing with other people after all. Besides if this girl turned out to be an idiot, or annoying as fuck, she would hopefully not have her brain cells killed by the encounter. She took another slow drag, one delicate eyebrow raising as she waited for the answer, left hand stuffed into the pocket of Matt's leather jacket, fingers tapping on her knife in a steady count of the seconds.

[kisa]

Kisa turned, arching an eyebrow as she took a steady look at the girl, eyes traveling over her body the way a buyer will examine a new horse, or more accurately, the way a pimp will look over a whore. She took a drag on her cigarette, exhaling the smoke in a perfect ring and sending it over to the girl, eyes amused. "Who wants to know?" she asked, her accent rolling over the words, coming out with a wisp of smoke as well.

Kisa was careful about who she sold to and who bought from her, no matter where she was. It was how she ended up in here, someone hadn't been careful, but such was the life in the drug world. Of course, her stash here was also impressive, as well as her reach. It would be nothing for her to get some of the more...controlled substances, seeing as she still had contacts on the outside and students here were willing to pay what she asked.

The tiny russian watched the girl, memorizing what she looked like, her dictation, everything in the event that it was needed. Paranoia kept you alive in her world. A tiny flicker of amusement went through her eyes, lighting them up for a moment before it was shoved away. "And I hope you have better manners zen zat for your dealers," she said, flicking some ash off her cigarette before lighting up another one from the dead end of that one.

Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a flask and opened it, taking a sip and deciding to not award much attention to the girl unless she found out what she wanted and how much she was willing to play. It was a game that she was becoming professional at and it didn't bother her to play hard with those that played hard as well.

[Monique James]

A flat, dry look settled onto her face, eyes narrowing slightly at the words that came out of the other girl's mouth. "The hobo down the street." Monique snapped, irritated with the stupid question. Already this girl was wearing her already frayed nerves down more, sparks flying between the metaphorical wires. Suppressing a growl, Monique forced herself to take another drag from her cigarette rather than beating the girl to a pulp and setting her alight.

Monique was willing to pay for what she got, so long as the quality was good. And of course if the dealer didn't piss her off too much. Either this girl was the dealer, something Monique was finding rather unlikely, or she just wanted to fuck with her head. Or of course, she was that stupid. She hoped it wasn't the third one. She'd hate to get the call from Matt about 'being nice' and 'not putting other people in the hospital' and all that blah blah blahing that she's heard a hundred times before.

"If they give me what I want for a good price, and it's high quality, I play nice. Otherwise, why should I? I'm not a naive little kid who eats sunshine and shits rainbows. I wouldn't be here if I was a well mannered little princess now would I?" As far as she was concerned, someone had to give her a reason to put the kid gloves back on. Tilting her head back she slowly blew a stream of smoke out of her mouth, watching it swirl upwards and dissipate into the air. She didn't care that she was being observed. It irritated her, but if there was no useful information gained from this little chat, she could always dump the kid down the stairs.

Leveling her gaze back on the girl, the green irises were cold and detached, one leg shifting ever so slightly, the only physical sign of her impatience outside of her voice. "So do you know anything or should I go ask someone else?" She asked, irritation lacing through more prominently than before. this place pissed her off and was cold. She wanted to go cause chaos and burn shit. Not sit here playing games with some boozer. She was entirely too rooted on earth to start playing games right now.

Long slender fingers, pianist's hands as people had previously dubbed them, twirled a chunk of her bangs out of her face, tucking them back into one of the pins that held strays from her ponytail. "Well?"

[kisa]

Oh yes, Kisa had dealt with this kind before. They always thought they were better, superior, etc. She didn't have the patience either to deal with her, but paranoia kept barking. Shifting slightly, she drew on another cigarette, finishing the one in her fingers before lighting the other from the butt, grinding it on the steps. She took a deep drag on it, blowing out the smoke in wisps, like dragon smoke before letting her gaze drift over the girl. A buyer.

"Depends on vhat you vant. If I don't have it, I can get it," she said, letting her gaze drift elsewhere at the moment, watching around them, ensuring that no one else was around. Drug deals did not go down in public places unless you were absolutely certain there was no way in getting caught. Kisa highly valued her privacy even if she didn't care about getting caught. You learned, you grew, and you beat the system.

Of course, the troublesome types who wanted to always prove they were bigger, badder, whatever they wanted to be, they were the ones that weren't smart, got in trouble and couldn't keep their mouth shut. This girl was starting to annoy the drug dealer, enough to the point that she was thinking about jacking up the price a bit, maybe five dollars, but enough that she would have a bit more.

Kisa had her stash hidden well, where no one could find it, even with the drug dogs. She'd learned how they worked, what they went after, enough that she was willing to take the police on again. The difference between Kisa and most drug dealers was that she didn't use her own stuff. Sure, she'd tried everything, and she'd sampled things that she was going to buy, but once it was firmly hers, she never touched it, no matter how tempting. Her choices were cigs and vodka, and she stuck by them.

"Vell, vhat do you vant? Or vere you just looking to harass a drug dealer and hope to get just a little somezing for cheap?" The Russian accent was showing up, showing that she was getting slightly annoyed, but one never snapped at a potential customer. Kisa really never cared what others thought about her, she had good stuff, and it was pure, that she made sure of because no one wanted their customers dying off on them, especially when they were just starting out.