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A rattling of the flimsy screen door and a distinct pounding of a heavy fist on the front door woke Dustynn Knight from her hazy slumber from the living room couch. [color=fe697b][b]"What?!"[/b][/color] she exclaimed groggily, but loud enough to be heard through the thin walls of the home she rented on Reservoir Lane. The pounding continued, and obscenities spewed from the young woman's mouth as she got up from the couch and practically stomped over to the door. Fumbling with the lock she flung open the front door, the chain lock spread across leaving just a few inches of space. Looking down only slightly she was met with the face of a snot nosed kid from the block, [b]"Can I mow your lawn for twenty bucks?"[/b] Dusty slammed the door, unlocked the chain and flung the door back open revealing herself to the kid.

Dustynn stands very petite at five foot two and weighing less than one hundred and fifteen pounds. Closer to one hundred during her months of [i]"I'm trying hard to cut back man.."[/i] which is a nice way of putting: not drinking alcohol and eating fast food every night. She has a head full of naturally curly black hair, that she keeps long and often leaves down. Her eyes are dark brown which can appear to be black when in the evening lighting. Dusty's enjoys being dolled up, but doesn't put too much effort in to her appearance, clearly displayed in the raggedy band tee shirt and the bicycle shorts she wore to sleep. She usually enjoyed lipsticks, eyeliners, and eye shadows when appropriate. Her body is littered with many scars and often bruises from her escapades of the past and present. Her ears are pierced in several places, mostly done in the bathroom of friend's houses and very uneven. 

Another hole is just another hole after all.

[color=fe697b][b]"What did you say?"[/b][/color] she questioned as the kid took a few step backs. Dusty was not intimidating by any means, but she was reckless and when you don't know what to expect next you had to keep light on your feet. [b]"I asked if I could mow your lawn cause it looks bad."[/b] he said boldly. The two looked around the yard, it did look pretty pitiful. Was she supposed to do the yard work or were the people she was renting from do that? When she lived with her Mom a few years ago prior to moving out she always took care of the yard work and even took some pride in making the front of their trailer look habitable. Dustynn smirked, this little kid had some nerve but he wasn't wrong. [color=fe697b][b]You little shit."[/b][/color] she stated, her palm reaching up and rubbing the front of her face. [color=fe697b][b]"I don't have a lawnmower or twenty bucks."[/b][/color] she commented between gritted teeth. The boy guffawed as he took a few more steps back from the front step, [b]"Fucking loser."[/b] he said as he bolted down the walk.

Dustynn took off running after the kid out the door and through the grass. He was too fast, and she was out of luck. A huff of breath escaped from her mouth, her hands going up to her hips as she watched him run away to the set of apartments that were further down on the block. She grumbled to herself as she reached up to her ear, a half smoked joint from the previous night sat delicately. Pleasantly surprised she took it from the nook and walked back into her small one bedroom home to get herself a lighter.

There wasn't much to look at in her residence, furniture was minimum. The place was not messy, but by no means clean either. Drug paraphernalia and traces of alcohol could be seen littered around the living room and kitchen area. Her bedroom on the other hand was a sanctuary, welcoming and clean although littered with way too many clothes. Dusty's style is comfort with a splash of grunge. When not in pajamas she is always seen in some type of denim, whether it be skinnies or daisy dukes- she has jeans on. Not too picky with whatever her top is, as long as it doesn't smell too bad from the last time she washed it. She tends to not wear a purse or any type of bag with her, so don't be surprised if she asks you to place her stuff in your pockets or your own bag. Wears accessories often, but nothing worth more than a couple dollars. Wears a watch sometimes, but the battery has long been dead.

Speaking of which-

What time was it?

Too early.

A moan of distaste came from the young girl's mouth, she worked nights at one of the seedy bars in Blacktown and so her mornings were meant for sleeping in. She wouldn't be falling asleep again any time soon, too awake from the burst of energy she received from chasing off the con artist in the body of a ten year old. Grabbing a toasted bagel for herself she smothered butter on it and took back to outside with her lighter and bagel in tow. The weather was just starting to change, which Dusty loved- she enjoyed fall the most out of all the other seasons. The warmth of her bagel hitting her lips, and then in rotation with drags of the last bit of weed for the week. Enjoying the moment as best she could, she pulled her legs up and under her shirt to contain some warmth as she watched the neighborhood begin to stir awake.