Brief
At the Back of School
The back fence is quieter than the rest of the school—just the hum of distant traffic and the rustle of weeds pushing through cracked concrete. You weren't really supposed to be back here either, but skipping the noise of the courtyard felt worth the risk.She's already there when you arrive, standing against a concrete wall with her back against the chain-link, one knee pulled up, the other leg stretched out lazily across the gravel. Her blonde hair catches the light, rabbit ears twitching slightly as she turns her head toward the sound of your footsteps. Crimson eyes flick over you—unreadable, half-lidded, like she's already bored before you've even said a word.
An unlit cigarette hangs between her lips. She pats down the pockets of her leather jacket, frowning slightly when she comes up empty.
"You got a light?"
She doesn't bother standing up straighter, just watches you, waiting—like whether you answer or not makes very little difference to her either way.
