FullMetalCanine

Mei had to hold Aakifa's hand all the way to Ann's house. Beatriz was behind them, not looking angry, per sé, but certainly very serious. Her eyes were half-lidded (as was the usual for her), and were almost obscured by the shadow of her almost cartoonishly thick eyebrows. Annabelle would insist that it was just the way Bea had bowed her head—and it was, in part—but everyone knew the eyebrows had something to do with it. Ann was in front of them, her hips swaying from side to side as she walked. Occasionally she would turn her head around and give them a smile. Even though on someone else it would be comforting, Ann's defau

Annabelle was followed by Beatriz as she walked up to the two girls sitting on the ground. Mei gave a big smile in thanks to Ann, but Aakifa was wary of the Bosses—the upper class had never been kind to her—and looked at Bea instead. Bea's constant frown did not shift, but her eyes softened as she saw the bruise on Mei's face. Mei had looked over at her and yelped quietly. Having being raised in a family of Bosses (all of her four older brothers were Bosses) she was not wary of the upper class as Aakifa was, and being a Subordinate herself she didn't look down on them, but honestly anyone would feel frightened looking at Bea.

"This is a terrible idea!" Aakifa whispered nervously. Mei widened her ever present smile and gave a small giggle. "It is not, Ki-Ki!" Aakifa (or Ki-Ki, as Mei liked to call her,) didn't reply and simply brought her thin, long hands up to her chest, clasping them together in a sign of worry. Mei, having been friends with Aakifa for a rather long time, saw this (even though Mei was terrible at reading the atmosphere, even she was good at telling when her friends were in a bad mood) and reached out her own chubby hand before remembering that her friend didn't like to be touched, by anyone, in any way. She instead placed her hands in her la

He wasn't quite a man, perhaps. A boy, more like, though even that seemed wrong—at nineteen (well, he looked nineteen anyway) he wasn't quite an adult nor a child. An awkward stage to be sure, but he paid no mind to it. There were far more important things to worry about. Jones walked briskly, running his hand through his blond hair. He fiddled with the hem of his jacket nervously. His face was set with determination, his usual easygoing smile replaced with a stony expression that screamed, "I'll do it myself." And despite his generally laid-back nature, that was the last thing he said to another human being before he left his house

Beatriz Ruiz was not what you would call ordinary. Not even in appearances, as most people were. She had a crooked, hooked nose, a tight, thin-lipped frown, and too-small eyes that always have the impression of a glare. Her look matched her temperament—a frown was never far from her face, and her thick black eyebrows were perpetually drawn together in a sour expression.  Her chin was broad enough to be a man's, and so were her shoulders. A stark comparison with her boss, Annabelle DuPont, with her beautiful face, her brown eyes matching her dark skin. She had a curly, frizzy wave of hair that surrounded her face. Her lips were always