Vincent
and Margaret
Vincent smiled more whole heartedly at the girl. He understood her need to be close to someone in this troubled time. He felt the same way. The only difference between Vincent and anyone else he had met so far was the fact that he had his sister with him. Granted, she wasn't just there for moral support. She was in the same situation as him. The two siblings were in a larger than life-sized pickle and neither were all that happy about it. He could admit that being in here was better than being out there. Vincent also knew that he was likely to be the only homeless kid in the room.
"I guess this is our room now." He offered. Vincent wondered if she had gotten hit in the head by one of the guards on the way here or if the girl had been born with a bad memory. "Are you okay?" He asked, watching her face intently. He frowned and furrowed his eyebrows in concern.
His attention shifted to the newcomers in the room. Vincent especially watched the bleeding man who climbed onto the top bunk across from his sister. He noticed the girl who came in as well. Upon hearing her question, Vincent took a deep breath in before standing up and taking his shirt off. He shook out the wrinkles in it before handing it to the girl who requested it.
"Sure. Here," he said with a smile. Vincent suddenly felt self-conscious standing shirtless in front of three girls. It wasn't as if he had anything to be embarrassed about, though.
Margaret, of course, made it worse by letting out a soft whistle. She had noticed Vincent standing up and becoming embarrassed about his shirtlessness. She thought it would be funny and was immediately rewarded when Vincent turned to give her a red-faced “dad stare.”
“Lookin’ good.” Margaret cooed sarcastically, “Wouldn’t you agree, ladies?” She addressed the girls who had been talking to Vincent.
“Stoppit,” Vincent said, crossing his arms. “What happened to your shirt?” He asked in an attempt to shift the conversation to something other than his exposed torso.