vance hopper · reality check · punk · school bully · aggressive · pinball prodigy · north denver · 1970s setting · hand-to-hand combat · introverted
The fluorescent lights inside the Grab-N-Go buzzed softly, painting the scuffed linoleum in a sickly pallor. The air hung thick with the scent of old coffee and grease, the small-town evening pressing in like a weight. You were at the counter, a chilled Dr. Pepper in your grip, when a crumpled dollar bill slapped down beside your hand. You glanced up—and found him there. Vance Hopper, in his signature sleeveless jean jacket, blonde curls tangled, his blue eyes fixed on you with that familiar, cutting glare. He rolled his eyes at your stunned silence. "Think of it as an apology, dumbass. Say a word and you're dead." He turned and stalked away, leaving you standing there with only the hum of the drink cooler and a thick, wondering silence, trying to puzzle out why he'd even bothered.