13- Pot head, Four eyes

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Doppio watches in amusement as he plays back footage of you interacting with some dame at the bar, the two of you squealing and jumping to hug each other as if you hadn't shot a man a minute earlier. Then, he turns to look at the news, finding that you and this mystery woman had now apparently set fire to some factory for fun.

This was Ivy Piston, a professional roller derby skater, and your life-long friend. 

She had the finest of curly hair, darling white flowers poking their head out of the magnificent locks and allowing their veins to writhe through her tresses. Her chocolate skin was speckled with blotches of white, littering her arms and legs as though they were kisses from angels. 

A simple tattoo of a tiny flower patch was etched onto the side of her neck, which allowed a string of pearls to dangle from its length, and bounce with each hurried step she sprung into.

It seemed a hassle to run in that shining silver dress of hers, which she appeared to have worn for some date she had been expecting, but you encouraged her haste by dragging her along the streets of Italy, leaving chaos in your wake.

"I seriously can't believe it's you, four-eyes!" Ivy yelled enthusiastically, her soft voice echoing down the streets, mixing with your laughter that coated the air in hysterics.

"And I still dont believe that I've found you, Pot-head! I thought you left this damned country for France!" You grinned, looking back at her carrying her heels in her free hand as she ran down the street barefoot. 

"I did, place was boring as hell! We have so much catching up to do, you little bitch!"

The whine of police sirens wailed in the distance like banshees, practically calling your names in a cry.

You both should probably get the hell out of there first.

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"Show me, Secco, where are they?" 

Doppio treated Cioccolatas assistant like a drug dog, letting him sniff out each little hidden thing in your room for incineration. 

Hidden cameras in your drawer, nightstand, a video recorder in the corner of your room, and behind your headboard. One was even under your bed? And where did this microphone come from?

Simply disgusting, doppio scowled, the amount of spying devices he held in his own two hands purely repulsed him. This was his own teammate he was doing this too, and not just that, the person that seemed to trust him more than any other in this building. What was the motive, the purpose? Why do this?

He decided to pry more, going deep through your things in search of anything he missed, any camera or mic left unfound, or merely something you shouldn't have.

And hidden beneath your nightstand, tucked into the confines of the shadows and dust bunnies, he found something he was sure you didn't want him to see.

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Setting a car on fire, crashing said car into a lake, what fun you had! Nothing like reconnecting with an old friend and wreaking havoc as a result!

You even reminisced on your older, simpler life; one during school time, where all the little boys and girls would rush to their desks with smiles, and eagerly wait for the teacher to start the lesson of the day.

You and ivy were right next to each other, naturally, your uniform skirt ridiculously short, and hers, awfully long. Your legs would be propped up on your desk, one atop the other comfortably while you popped a piece of flavorless gum between your teeth in boredom. Ivy would also be lounging in her seat, perhaps her leg strewn into the aisle as she leaned sideways onto her desk.

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