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[url=https://i.imgur.com/W13qW1U.jpg]Outfit[/url]
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As Colin drove, once again "borrowing" his sister's ride, he was on the highway. The window was rolled down, his left arm resting along the top of the door, bent in an almost-complete right angle, and a lit cigarette in his hand. He had Metallica's "Enter Sandman" blasting so loud that he could barely hear himself sing along with James Hetfield, barely could even hear himself think.

Almost.

The music helped his mind block out those thoughts that often crept back from time to time. Sometimes it was Cosima that kept him company, her voice -- or what Colin imagined her voice would sound like now -- kept him company. He didn't know why it sounded like Stephanie, though. Lord knows they had nothing in common, but that bitch of an ex of his sure could make her way into his most protected thoughts if she really wanted to.

Or maybe he couldn't stop thinking about how she got what was coming to her. She bruised his nose and he broke her front bumper, but because most people saw the evidence of his face, she was suspended on the first day. Maybe he was the dick for being happy about that because he [I]technically[/i] started the fight. Good thing Rosefell hadn't invested in an all-knowing super machine that could record every conversation or else he'd be screwed too.

As he pressed the cigarette to his lips and took in a deep breath, he exhaled a puff of smoke as he turned up the volume just a bit more. He wanted the Liberty bitches to know he was on his way, but more importantly, Colin Gallagher just really liked Metallica's classics. Nothing beats the classics.

As he kept driving somewhat absentmindedly, it was only last minute that he nearly missed his exit. 

Swerving from one lane to the other, the tires of his sister's 93 Chevy Convertible shrieked like a banshee and he nearly escaped a fatal crash at the exit. Honks from pissed off drivers were heard in the distance as Colin sped so fast that those horns faded into the distance within seconds. 

Several half-miles later, Colin wasn't in Kansas anymore, but in fact had been transported to a place worse than Kansas: the place where Liberty kids called home. Everywhere he looked, on both sides of the road, which he couldn't help but gawk in disgust, were streets that were too clean for their own good, shops that had organic and artisan in just about every name, and people walking down the street as if they didn't live no less than ten miles away from people who would get stabbed just for walking on the wrong side of the street as if they didn't have privilege written all over their smug faces. It didn't matter how late it was, Colin knew they never had to worry about that kind of danger.

[color=D9381E]"They make me sick,"[/color] Colin uttered as he flicked his still-lit cig into the street and drove off. 

He eventually made it to Christian Barker's house. Christian, who had asked Colin to score the goodies, was probably the rare case where not everyone at Liberty was an obnoxious know-it-all who thought they were better than everyone else. Christian, who came to Colin at lunch on the first day, knowing exactly who Colin was and who he knew, made a deal. Christian, who was a complete dumbass and looked like someone who'd smoke and snort everything Colin scored for him, also had that Liberty money.

So, of course, Colin would help out. He had help from Patrick Quinn, of course, but all-in-all, he managed to obtain everything Christian Barker asked for and then some. Sure, he pocketed some of the money for himself and scammed Christian a bit.

Like he said: Christian Barker was a dumbass, but he wasn't a bad guy. Colin almost felt bad for telling him he needed about a hundred more than what he knew Ricky charged. 

Oops.

To make up for scamming Christian, Colin opted out of claiming the driveway for himself but instead parked on the street. Before he got out and before he went for the jacket that was laying in the backseat, Colin reached for a special gift he bought with the money that he pocketed from Christian. Usually, he wasn't one to drink tequila. Truth be told, the taste often conflicted with every strand of Irish DNA in him, but tonight was the start of new beginnings. 

And hell, when you can score a bottle of high quality [url=https://i.imgur.com/zyhG7p8.png]Don Julio[/url] for a hundred bucks, how could he say no?

So when he walked up to the front door, the bottle in one hand and him maneuvering himself into his jacket one arm at a time, Colin let himself into Christian's house. Or at least he did after he realized the door was unlocked. He heard the bass of whatever music had been playing and immediately the vibe of the party brought a wide grin to his face. It was such a vibe that he twisted open the bottle of tequila and took a quick sip. Even though it burned, it lit him alive with a foreign fire that felt different, but right at the same time.

Colin scanned the area. He didn't know who or what he was looking for, but he caught the sight of a son of a bitch that demanded his immediate attention.

Strolling over to one of the many drinks table in sight, Colin's arm hovered over Freako Rico's neck as Colin towered over him. The arm that was to Rico's left was the one with the bottle of Don Julio. [color=D9381E]"So what's the plan tonight, Rico? Who you gonna try and fuck?"[/color][/indent][/indent][/indent][/color]