Scenarios ✘ D. Gray Man

How You Meet: II

Crowley
You were watching the funniest con ever take place.

"Really? Children have died to get this." It was a rock painted red.

"No, they haven't," you smoothly insert, causing the vendor to glare at you with a warning.

"But they came from an active volcano!" Tears gathered in his eyes as you examined a large hat with a feather hanging over the rim, eyes going to meet his.

"No, they came off the street and were painted red to seem like volcano rocks." You picked one up, running your index finger's nail over the red and chipping it enough to expose the boring gray underneath.

"Why, you brat!" The vendor grabbed your collar, pulling you over the stand into his face, allowing his cabbage-smelling breath to enter your nostrils. "Do you enjoy destroying others' business?"

"Yes, I do actually."

"You -- "

"I'll take one!" exclaimed the weirdly-dressed man beside you, glancing nervously between the two of you.

"Ah, even though you know the truth," he nodded anxiously, giving him the appropriate amount of money and causing the man to release you.

You scoff, fixing your collar as the man grabbed your arm, pulling you away from the smiling vendor.

"Why'd you do that?" You tug your arm out of his grip.

He opened his mouth to answer but a call of "Crowley" interrupts him.

You both turn to two boys running towards him, stopping and letting out a single pant in unison.

"Where were you, Crowley? We looked all over for you."

"I just wanted to buy some volcano rocks but -- "

He turned to the spot you had been in, only to realize you had disappeared from view.

Cross
You click your tongue against the roof of your mouth, ignoring the chattering and giggling of the women sat in your bar and trying to dull a headache that you had.

Your fingers reach up your skull, pushing back the few loose strands of hair you had framing your face as if it would affect the fever you had as well.

You clean another glass, holding in a cough which caused a string of them and a scratchy throat.

"(Y/n), take the night off," you stare at your boss, opening your mouth to protest but he swiftly cut in, "You'll get paid for the hours you work." He reassured.

You sigh, knowing already your attempts were futile. You untie the apron around your waist and pull it over your head, hanging it on the hooks of the coathanger behind you.

"Don't bother coming back tomorrow, even if you feel better."

You walk out into the cold, your fever of overworking yourself making it seem too hot.

Your mother had just died recently from an illness, your sister contracting the same sickness and needing to be placed in a hospital that you couldn't afford.

You stumble, crashing hard into a man and the both of you ended up toppling over.

You sit up, your arms shaking from the effort as you give him a hand up.

You cough soon after, swaying again, as he steadies you.

"Are you okay?" You blink at the roughness of the voice before looking up and meeting one brown eye that, in your moment of sickness, made you queasy as you thought of chocolate (which it resembled).