[i]This place is such a mess...[/i] thought Ada as she scanned the rooms she and her Scrounger friends called home. She glanced at her corner, which was near a broken window that opened up to a half-lit neon sign, orange-red flickering occasionally. She had a small cabinet, and a big plush chair that she slept in--she preferred it to a bed, and it took up less space besides. Her belongings were meager, but she was fine with it. The more you own, the more you owe, a wise street-woman told her once. Her only prized possessions were a few fashionable outfits, and the cleaning supplies she needed to keep herself looking presentable. 

Her corner was clean, as always. She sighed, and thought, [i]I [i]am[/i] living with a bunch of teenagers, afterall. What can I expect?[/i] The rest of the rooms were slightly cluttered and in disarray, which only ever seemed to bother Ada. Grumbling, she crossed over to the other room and found Delilah sitting on her bed, and put her hands on her hips as she watched her. She began making faces of exaggerated depression, and slumped herself dramatically against the wall, sighing audibly. Delilah did not seem to notice, too engrossed in what she was doing. Ada wondered what she was listening to, but knew that Delilah didn't like to talk about those things. Bored, and annoyed with the clutter of their living space, Ada decided to be disruptive and plopped down next to the young woman. She waved her hand in front of her face, and asked, "What're we doing tonight? Do we have work? Are we gonna go have fun? I'm getting sick of this place... I need to get out, ya know? We all need to get out."