Vanilla & Smoke || A.I.

Quail.

Quail.
/kwāl/
Noun
a small, short-tailed Old World game bird resembling a small partridge, typically having brown camouflaged plumage.

Edit: can be black

~~~

  Thora didn't like when most people touched her, and it turned out police officers were no exception.

  The first cop, the one who's found her, was holding her arms behind her as the second, who had just arrived, patted her down. As it turned out, the first cop was a man in his late 40's, and the second was a woman in her 30's.

  The fact that it was a woman did not make it less uncomfortable. She slipped her hands in Thora's pockets, and the raven haired girl had to fight the urge to kick her.

  Everything she's brought with her was sat upon the trunk of the car; her bag, with the spray paint in it, the now empty canister of blue, and everything in her pockets- a crumbled up tissue, her phone, and a tube of black lipstick.

  It could've been worse. Calum had weed on him, and Mikey- who knew what all he kept in that jacket of his. Weed, cocaine, and a pocket knife were likely the least of what he carried.

  So all in all, if any of them were to be caught by the cops, it was best that it was Thora. But that still didn't mean it was a good situation. 

  The ride to the police station was not fun. Stuffed in the back of the cop car, sat on the yard, plastic seats with her hands still chained behind her back, Thora was left to wonder what the hell she was going to do. Vandalism was a crime, after all, and they had plenty of evidence.  Not that her family could afford a lawyer either way. 

  Maybe she'd have to pay her parents back. She could go into dealing with Mikey, but then again he likely wouldn't like the competition, and he seemed to be able to handle his knife suspiciously well. Or maybe she could get a job. A nice student with a nice job who'd go home to her nice family and do her nice homework after eating a nice dinner in a nice house. No, it really didn't sound like her. 

  Maybe Luke would pay her to fuck him. He probably would. 

  The handcuffs dug into her wrists, cold metal against soft skin. In the front of the car, the officer drove quietly, listening to the sound of the police radio jabbering. There was a break in on 4th street. Keep an eye out for a blue sedan. Code xyz, 123, alpha bravo blah blah blah. Thora didn't fully understand it, but it definitely didn't sound like English.   

  In the police station, she was pulled out of the car and dragged to the door, when another officer came up and started chit chatting with her cop. Lots of "I'm ready for my shift to be over" and "did you hear that joke that Matthew's was telling?" while she just stood there, not quite sure what to do. 

  Trying to stand up taller, she was stopped by her arms, and huffed. "Sorry, would it be more convinient if I came back later? We can always do this again tomorrow."

  The officers froze, watched her with blank curiosity. "What'd she do?" The other one asked, trying to guess. "Weed? She smells like it."

  "Thanks."

  "No, vandalism. Almost the entire tunnel under 15th street, by Price? It's now completely blue."

  "That was an accident, I would never paint something like-"

 He stopped her. "That will be decided later, in court."

******************************

  Fingerprints and a mugshot later, Thora was sat in a holding cell, waiting for her parents to pick her up. 

  She was figgity, and every few seconds her hand would slip in her pocket, searching for the black tube of lipstick she always carried with her. It was a nervous habit, and whenever she was nervous she would touch it up, except now her lipstick was sitting in a brown paper bag on some desk or in some cabinet or something. She wondered if they would give it back.

  It was a stupid thing to wonder. Here she was, sitting in a holding cell in the police station, facing who knows what charges, and she was wondering about her lipstick. 

  Her parents would be there soon, hopefully. If not she'd have to go and stay at the jail overnight, according to the officer that had fingerprinted her. She could handle her parents wrath- she could not handle jail.

  Thora wasn't that bad. Sure, she did some slightly illegal stuff, but it's not like it was hurting anyone. And she wasn't a pushover. What's wrong with that?

  When her parents arrived, they were livid, but Thora was just glad to see them. It was almost one in the morning, and she'd been in the holding cell for almost two hours.

  "I can't believe you!" Her mom was saying. "I can't believe I had to pick you up from the police station, this is unacceptable. We're going to have to court, and you know we can't afford a ticket. I don't know what you're going to do, but you better figure out something."

  Thora didn't know either.