Wiping the grease off of her fingers onto the white plain T-shirt she was wearing, Deserae headed over to the small (and only) refrigerator The Lost Ones had in Joshua’s Body Shop. Making sure that her hands were relatively clean, she opened up the mini fridge and took a quick peak inside, noticing immediately that they were running dangerously low on iced coffee. With a slight frown, she took the only double mocha iced coffee left and gave it a good shake before popping off the lid. She took a good, long drink, reveling in the delicious taste that coated the inside of her mouth before heading back to her creation.

Deserae hoisted herself up onto a small pile of tires she compiled together for a makeshift place to sit when she wasn’t working on her car and looked The Beast over. [url=http://chicotcars.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/05/jeep-hummer-body-kitsbody-kits-car-truck-custom-body-kit-tsubkl1o.jpg]The Beast[/url], as what Lost Ones hung out in the Body Shop began to call it a few years back, was Deserae’s baby; the only thing that she ever really cared about in this world since it was the first thing she began to work on when she gained her freedom as a Lost One. She had put in nearly three years into the custom built ‘machine,’ forced to use what bits of workable scrap metal she could salvage over the years. She didn’t care though, and honestly she didn’t ever really expect it to run despite all the years of hours she put into the damn thing, it was just a nice hobby to have to keep her mind away from things; mainly her past.

Despite being with The Lost Ones for the past three years, she was often-times mistaken for a new recruit. She liked to keep her head low and her nose out of the other members business, doing well to keep from drawing attention to herself. Even the people that hung out here in the Body Shop with her often-times forgot her name, and those that didn’t often whispered behind her back and made fun of her for being such a social outcast, but Deserae kept her mouth shut and head held high despite what things she overheard them saying about her.

Even now, as she sat there, she could hear two of the boys whispering back and forth a good ways away, asking the other if they remembered what her name was, and then snickering about something relating to a suggestive looking grease stain on her white shirt. Deserae couldn’t help but to roll her eyes as she took another drink of her iced coffee. Boys were so dumb, but men were worse. At that very thought, she felt a shiver roll down her spine causing her arms to coat with goose bumps and a split-second flash of memory entered her mind; her Uncle’s smile. 

Nearly dropping the glass bottle from being startled so suddenly, she fumbled to keep the iced coffee firmly in her hand and shook her head, closing her eyes hard. Even now; after nine years; the memories were still there. She was so busy trying to keep her heart-rate under control and catch her breath, that she hardly heard a boy’s voice addressing her.

[i]“Hey, I'm Minato. I'm Nagami's friend.. he ehm, sent me here. Do you mind if I ask you some questions about the Amaranth Wolves? I'm sorry if you're busy, I'll go ask someone else then. I kinda wanna know what the Wolves are all about and stuff... and I kinda wanna know what I'm supposed to be doing now that I'm with the Lost Ones. I mean.. standing around probably isn't my job now, right?”[/i]

Deserae opened up her eyes and blinked, staring at the Asian boy wondering first, where the hell he came from and second, why he spoke a million words per second. It took her a few moments after he finished speaking for her to even register everything he said, and only then did she slide herself off of the small stack of tires to retrieve her jean vest she left on the floor next to some tools she had been using on the underside of The Beast earlier and slipped it on. It wasn't because she had a sudden feeling of self-consciousness and made an attempt to hide the "suggestive grease-stain" but because this boy reeked of alcohol when he spoke, and it made her stomach turn. She'd do anything to get away from that rancid smell.

Nagami, she should have figured. Of course he’d send anyone who asked to The Body Shop. She rolled her eyes a bit, adjusting her jean vest to fit her better. If Nagami sent over one more person…well, she didn’t know what she would do, but it was getting really old, really fast.

“You don’t have a job with The Lost Ones. The only one that pays you is yourself.” She said rather flatly, hoping that would answer his question and that he would leave her alone. She briefly thought over asking if he knew if Nagami did any time in prison. She only wanted to know because of the way he wore his pants. Not many gangsters today knew that wearing your pants below your butt originated in prison as a way of men telling other men that they were open for a wild time. And if Nagami didn’t know that, then she would have a pretty good time laughing about it to herself.

“You’d do best to steer clear of the Amaranth Wolves, unless you fancy your head on a pike.”