The silence on the bus was unsettling. Vince was used to noise surrounding him when he was around this many young adults, but everyone seemed to be caught up in their own thoughts. Vince mindlessly scribbled on the dry erase board in his lap, expecting he wouldn't need to use it as a means of communication any time soon. Drawing was not something he was very good at, so his doodles looked like they belonged in the margins of an elementary school student's paper. A small sigh escaped his lips as he erased the board with the sleeve of his jacket, something his mom always scolded him for doing. [i]"Vincent, use a tissue when you do that! All of your sleeves smell like dry erase markers,"[/i] she would say with a shake of her head, but a faint smile was always on her lips. He clenched the dry erase marker in his hand a bit tighter at the memory. That wasn't anything like she had been this morning. Rarely had Vince seen his mother truly upset, but the second the police came knocking on the door to their apartment, she had broken down. Getting him out the door had been a mess. He could still feel her fingers desperately digging into his forearm, still hear the obscenities and pleas she had shouted at the cops. He shrunk down in the seat a bit, feeling a pang of sadness imagining his mother sitting alone in their apartment.

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Lycus sat on one of the plush couches in the court house lobby, head tossed back as he counted the tiles on the ceiling. Government buildings had a tendency to be very boring, and he was starting to get restless. He drummed his fingers on his thigh, barely feeling the dull pinpricks of pain as his pointed nails hit denim. No matter how many times he clipped or filed them, his nails always quickly grew back to a claw-like point. It was pretty cool, if not inconvenient. Several of the tears in his sleeves and sheets were caused by his nails getting caught on the fabric. Clara never seemed to mind helping him fix thise tears since he really couldn't help it. Lycus glanced over at her, red eyes blinking lazily. "Clara," he whined quietly, dragging out the last vowel. "How much longer do we have to wait? I'm bored."