Copperfield House, which sat at the end of Copperfield Street, was a small, and old house that had been "renovated" into apartments. Only housing four small apartments with two bedrooms each, these apartments were not meant for those with riches. The bedrooms could barely fit a double bed and a wardrobe in them, the paint was crumbling from the walls, and there were a few cracks in the ceiling. The kitchens were small, the bathroom smaller, and the living room almost non-existent. The traffic on Copperfield Street wasn't as bad as one expected in the middle of Downtown New York, but still at night, the noise from outside was more than one desired to hear when trying to sleep. However, for someone without the money to live in an upper-class part of town, Copperfield House was the best that little money could buy. Well, rent. Four people already lived in two of the apartments, a rough and grizzly looking man named Don, and a petite blonde girl called MS lived in Apartment Two, and in the other, lived a boy named Bode, with a mop of hair upon his head, and a pixie-like girl in large glasses called Lua lived in Apartment One.

MS stretched her arms above her head, her palms pressing against the fading wallpapered walls of her small bedroom. She had the smallest room in the apartment that she shared with Don, purely because she was the last one to join their little group of "Others." Yes, she was in a relationship with Don, so sometimes she did sleep in the same bedroom as him. She felt safe when she was curled up against his side; someone was there to protect her. But when he wasn't in, like he hadn't been the night before, she stayed in her own small room, where there was no room for anyone to jump in and attack her. She groaned she rolled over in her bed, pulling the duvet up to her chin as the coolness of the morning hit her like a brick. She had forgotten to turn the heating back on again last night before going to sleep, and now she was going to pay. Sleeping in a tank top and a pair of patched up pyjama bottoms probably didn't help keep the heat in either.

Sighing to herself, she flicked on the light that was situated above her head, and winced for a moment as the bright light hit here eyes. She wondered if Don was home yet, and if it was safe for her to venture out of the safety of her room. She would only leave if he had checked over the room, you see. Maybe she was too paranoid, but for someone who went through what she did, who could blame her? MS lay there in bed for a moment, thinking how much Don really did do for her. He was her saviour. Of course, that hadn't gone down well with Lua. MS believed that the dark haired girl didn't like her much because she was brought into the group by Don, who Lua was extremely in love with. And when he grew protective over this new, broken girl, she maybe got a little jealous? That was why Lua had moved in with Bode, and she was now living with Don; MS felt like she was the reason that the two of them broke up.

‘I am. There's no other explanation.’

Laying in bed was getting boring now. She wanted to get up, have a shower and have a small breakfast before hopping outside to work, selling her clothes on the street. She loved her job. Slowly, the blonde crept out of bed, her blonde tresses sitting as a mop on top of her head and tumbling down her back as she walked timidly towards her door. Her hand was shaking as she reached out for the knob, and twisted it slowly, flinching as she did so, as if something was going to pop out and hit her. She manoeuvred her head through the smallest gap possible in the door, and looked around.

"Don?" She whispered, hoping that he would hear her if he was home. "Don?"

Don, had struck gold last night. This is how it went down.

Scheduled, usually, to close evenings, Don was the only one left within the repair shop, and although he didn't usually work the front desk, he was expected to return the keys to a shiny BMW to it's owner. Don had spend the greater part of his week fixing up the car that was in a recent crash, the job was a priority because the man, let's call him Beemer, paid shit-loads of money to have it finished as soon as possible. And now that it was done, Don got to meet the infamous man. He was young, around Don's age, and when the guy pushed through the glass doors, Don put on his con-face. They spoke about cars, work, and sports, and before Don knew it, he had to lock up and leave. Needless to say, he didn't go home, the guys went out for a beer to the nearest bar. They talked, they laughed, Don mention MS a couple of times, Beemer mentioned his ex-wife. The two were meant to be buddies.

"...So, she packed up her bags and just went out the door-- she made it seem like it was my damned fault, too," The guy sulked, to which Don shook his head, clearly buzzed from the couple of beers he's had already.

"That's bullshit, I don't know what'd I do if I found out my girlfriend was cheating on me..." He sighed, casting a sideways glance at his 'buddy's' drink.

"Yeah, from what you told me, she seems like a nice girl," Beemer grinned, "She got any girlfriends?"

"She is," Don smirked, "All of them are in relationships," he lied through his teeth.

"Don't matter. If my wife could cheat at the drop of a hat, what makes you think other women won't?" Beemer reasoned, which made Don uncomfortable with that sort of information, especially when he had a guilty conscience himself.

"You're the expert," Don chuckled briefly, shrugging his shoulder and nursing his drink.

"That's right," Beemer patted Don's shoulder, "But now the expert is off to go piss-- Get me another drink while I'm gone."

As soon as the guy was out of sight. Don ordered the drink, and leaned over it, pouring in enough drug to knock Beemer out over the hour, make it seem like he just got very sloshed. The next hour went by quickly, and respectably so, Beemer's eyes grew heavier and heavier as time went by. Eventually, around 2am, Don was left sitting in a deserted bar with the guy passed out over the bar counter.

"Ya'll need to go, we're closing," the bartender explained, impatiently.

"Yeah, yeah," Don muttered, the 'Con Don' facade dripping away with the depth of his friend's slumber. He rummaged through Beemer's jacket pockets until he found his wallet, fishing through it.

"Here," he tossed a few bills down for the bartender, then pocketed the rest.

"Keep the change."

The amount of time it took for Don to lug Beemer to the taxi was speedy. "Where's he going?" The cab driver questioned, his arm resting over the back of both chairs. Don fished Beemer's wallet out again and read the address out to the driver, then tucked it into Beemer's front pocket, closing the door neatly. As far as Beemer would know, he'd spend all that money at the bar, surely his friend didn't rob him, it wouldn't make sense, he was so nice. While Don walked away with several hundred dollars, a mighty loot compared to his other cons.

By the time Don returned to his and MS's apartment, it was a bit before 3am, and although he looked forward to cuddling with a warm body, he didn't want to wake the blonde in case he scared her out of her sleep. She was a bit jumpy, he knew that for sure. So he maneuvered into his own bedroom and fell into the bed, not bothering to get out of his clothes before he fell asleep. And he'd sleep through the night and into late morning, failing to hear MS call out his name.

He doesn't love you. He never did. He cast you aside like rubbish as soon as the next piece of skirt came along. You weren't worth it. You weren't worth any of it. You weren't worth him. She isn't worth him. You're the only one he needs, Lua. You were meant to be. He found you first, he came looking for you first. Don't listen, Lua. You have to get him back, you have to save him. But you weren't worth it. You should save him. Weren't worth it. Save him. Weren't. Save. Worth. Him...

And so it continued, a tumult of pure crazy alive and animated in the unconscious mind of Lua, who was currently thrashing about in a sleep induced stupor, undecipherable and sometimes loud murmurings escaping as her thoughts spun into overdrive. Needless to say this wasn't an uncommon occurrence, especially after a night out in town that'd involved a heck of a lot of drinking,...if her memory would serve her correctly once she awakened. At least she wasn't sleepwalking though. Yet.

With the sun shining through the (broken) blinds in her bedroom, the brunette eventually shouted herself into consciousness, groaning painfully at the sudden rude awakening. She didn't need to open her eyes to feel the hammering behind them, or to know that the bright light of day was going to hurt. A lot. But even with a hangover like this, and even though she'd spent a lot of last night over the toilet bowl, she knew that it wasn't enough to stop her. It'd never be enough. There was nothing like the ecstasy of forgetting that alcohol provided for her or the numbing of her heart that the burning of her throat ensued. Her head ran through drink after drink, guy after guy and how alive she remembered feeling when her mind didn't feel like her own anymore. It was a dangerous want but a need that she refused to give up. It didn't matter how shitty she felt the morning after, or how dirty she realized that her life had become. She'd spent hours trying to scrub the feeling away in the shower before now, and had soon concluded that the only way to get rid of the unwanted effects of alcohol was, well, with more alcohol.

When Lua finally managed to drag herself away from her duvet, she realized quite quickly that today, movement just wasn't going to do her much good and so flopped herself down onto her's and Bode's battered old sofa, snuggling further into an over-sized Smiths tee that she'd found in her bag a couple of years back. It was definitely one of the more welcome 'findings' of her life and something that she refused to part with, no matter how many holes it had growing in it. There weren't many things that Lua treasured much more than her that, her glasses or her banjo but as she took a while to look around the apartment, she realized that she possibly cared about more than she'd originally thought. Despite having been forced from her original home, they'd made quite a go of it here, she reckoned, which was at least one positive, even if right now she couldn't find any others. Other than Bode himself of course, who'd been brilliant as far as she was concerned. One day she'd be in the pit of despair, the next riding a unicorn through fields of rainbows. Nobody could predict how, when, or why and even with all of that he'd never once hit back with a slap in the face or a stab in the back. Yet.

The compressing of time was looming over her as she grew purposefully closer to her new flatmate. Lua had always gotten on well with him, more so now that she was trying to use him as the means to an end, of course. In truth, to her, he was a good, decent guy. A mate. Even they were hard to come by nowadays. It didn't matter where he'd come from, just like she was sure he wasn't particularly bothered about her past either. They were all screw-ups here; problems came with the package deal. So then why did she insist on dragging him into what could potentially be just another step further towards ruin? She hadn't thought through what could happen if this all went wrong, or who else might be affected by what she was trying to do. All she could see, smell and breathe was him. He'd saved her and she needed saving again. Apparently she hadn't stopped to consider that he might not be the one for the job.

A loud, urgent knocking upon their front door was what eventually shook Lua from her thoughts, and realizing that she'd probably be the quickest to answer it, she grabbed her glasses from the side and lurched for the handle, opening it to reveal a balding man with a somewhat disgruntled persona. His cheeks were flushed and his glasses crooked, as though it'd taken him a lot just to get here.

"I want my records."

"I'm sorry?"

"The records. Last night. My shop next to The Nova?"

A silence followed from Lua, who tried and failed to recollect her memories. Not knowing where she'd been after work, she couldn't remember. Bits hit her in fragmented waves, that guy that smelt of mints.

 "I want my records," he demanded again, but as Lua went to reply he cut her off. "Don't even try to deny it, you stupid, stupid girl. I saw you with my own eyes. Quick as lightning you were, grabbing from the rarities nearest to you. They're worth a lot of money, s-so pay up or I'll be forced to take further action."

Shit, shit, shit and more shit. She couldn't remember what she'd done, or even if she still had his freaking records. Shit. Upon examination, the guy didn't look like he was up to much.