Melina began munching her food slowly as she watched with furrowed eyebrows, the exchange between the man who seemed to be a regular of the only hot dog stand at Peach Trees. His attire looked high military and he probably was. The tattoos were a huge giveaway for her to be alert. Well, lies, actually. It was most definitely the blood and grime that was intimidating. She found herself staring and analyzing at him so much that she flickered her eyes away when she felt he had caught her. She gulped down some Coke as her eyes flickered to the ground until she saw a scar on his arm only to fully look at him.

"I'm sorry," she lowly said as she nervously took another bite, her right foot fiddling around a bit, her ankles feeling comfort against the stored knife in her shoes.

This is what it was like to live in Hell's Kitchen.

Just a month ago, she was still trying to shake off the encounter she had with a younger man who had lizard optics and snake-like fangs, trying to get her number. Luckily, the curfew security was there to send him back to his apartment. She could feel the intent of wrongdoing coming and although it was terrifying at best, she was ready to use her judo.