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His knuckles were still bleeding from where he’d cut them on Jadyr's teeth. Ruddy red ran down from his joints into the cracks between his balled up fists. Dukhaan was resting his cheek against the window of the police car, the cool glass breaking through the numbness in his face as he stared at nothing out the window.

"Son, you are required to give your address. If you don't, we’ll have to charge you for interfering with the police."

Dukhaan's eyes flicked up to stare at the buzz cut back of the officer's head from the backseat, his eyes dull. He didn’t have to tell him anything. Dukhaan knew his rights... sort of. He had a good idea of what is rights should be, at least.

The policeman sighed, a haggard, irritated noise, then licked his lips once, shifting into the next lane. "'Course, I s'pose we could just ask your school. You're a sophomore, right?" Dukhaan rolled his eyes until they stopped at the window again, shifting, idly touching his knuckles with his other hand. They had his school ID, they knew damn well he was a sophomore. They also had his name, and yet they asked that question, too. Dukhaan hated redundant people.

And they didn't need his address. No way was he getting Mom involved in all of this. And once Jadyr was able to talk again... well, they'd just get it from him.

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The rest of the ride was made in silence, but coincidentally, Dukhaan's school wasn't too far from the city's Juvenile Court Center. He sat up a little bit straighter when the police car came to a stop, and he waited for his designated driver to get out and walk around to his door. The handcuffs were on him almost the moment the fresh city air hit his lungs like a cloud of smog, and he coughed. This side of town had the permeating smell of burning trash and rain, which, combined, weren't too awful.

As they walked up to the door, Dukhaan took a moment to get a good look at the policeman at his side. He was a thick man, his uniform just a little too tight on him, though Dukhaan could easily see the outline of the bulletproof vest pressed against the blue outfit by the man's girth. He was at least a head taller than Dukhaan, and his eyes flicked down to the gun at the man's hip, his eyes lighting up slightly as his fingers twitched. Not that he could steal it, with his hands tied up like that. And besides, his mom raised him better than that.

The inside of the building was warmer than outside, but no less humid. Dukhaan shifted his shoulders beneath his jacket, trying to let a draft of air through to alleviate some of the heat collecting under his collar. God, he hated the heat. Would it really kill them to open a few windows? Probably, Dukhaan thought with a smirk. City air wasn’t for delicate folks.

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"Sit down," the policeman said gruffly as they walked into a funny little waiting area with blank walls and a fake potted plant in the corner. Dukhaan looked around with mild interest; he'd never seen this part before. Jadyr had been in here a couple of years ago, but on account of something about drugs, and Dukhaan had only seen the front of the court. They'd let Jadyr go since there wasn't any real evidence against him, except the fact that he smelled kinda like pot smoke, but then, who didn't in this city?

Jadyr made Dukhaan smoke some, once. He didn't really want it, and it made him feel weird as hell, but Jadyr made him say thank you afterwards, and he didn't beat him up. Maybe there was some rule about beating up high guys, Dukhaan thought. Or maybe he just wanted to see Dukhaan awake enough to trip balls all over the place and throw up on the floor. Yeah, that was really funny, in hindsight.

"All right," the policeman said in a drawling voice, turning back to Dukhaan with a few papers. "Just read over these contracts carefully. It's a comprehensive list of your rights--what you're required to tell us and what you don't have to tell us. And then sign here..." he said, pointing the tip of a pen at the signature line, and holding both items out to Dukhaan.

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"I'm afraid the joke's on you, sir. I can't read," Dukhaan said with a grin, looking up at the policeman innocently. Of course, that was a lie, but it was fun to watch the look on the policeman’s face. "Guess it's no rights for me."

The policeman studied Dukhaan for a moment, as if trying to see through his words, then sighed and turned the paper back up to his own eyes. He began reading it aloud, and Dukhaan would stop him every now and then to give the definition of a word that Dukhaan already knew, and he smirked behind his folded hands as he watched the policeman's face grow redder and redder with anger.

Finally the policeman finished and practically shoved the paper back at Dukhaan, pointing the pen in his face. Dukhaan let out a sigh, knowing they wouldn't get anywhere unless he signed the thing, so he grabbed the pen with his bound hands and tried his best to sign his name in shaky almost-cursive, the cracks in the skin on his knuckles burning as the wounds reopened.

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The policeman's eyes seemed to soften just a little bit as a look of real pain flashed over Dukhaan's face, and he returned the contract to the front desk. Dukhaan could overhear him talking about 'letting the kid go wash off his hands, I mean, we probably have some bandages around here somewhere,' or something like that. Soon enough Dukhaan was on his feet again and led by the policeman to a cramped, dank bathroom that smelled like tobacco and mold.

"Alright, just gonna uncuff you real fast so we can get those hands taken care of... no funny business, yeah?" the policeman said, bringing a key out and unlocking Dukhaan's binds. He took the handcuffs away, and Dukhaan decided that complying would be best in this situation. He did want his hands to stop bleeding. Even if it made him look tough, Dukhaan didn't like pain that much.

"Yes, sir," Dukhaan said, realizing that perhaps playing the innocent kid would get him a little sympathy. The policeman had a gun, too, and that didn’t make Dukhaan too comfortable. And anyway, he had gotten it arranged to take off those handcuffs, so Dukhaan supposed the policeman deserved a little more credit than Dukhaan's absolute malice. "Thank you, sir," he added, for good measure.

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At Dukhaan's words, the policeman seemed to relax just a little bit, and he swung the handcuffs in a small arc at his side as he checked his watch on his other hand. Apparently encouraged by the less-than-hostile tone in Dukhaan's voice, he continued, "Geez, cut yourself up pretty bad, huh."

No kidding. Dukhaan grimaced as water ran over his cracked knuckles, the water turning a pale red color as he rinsed off the dried blood. He didn't answer the policeman; he had a right to remain silent, after all. The guy'd said it himself. After a bit Dukhaan turned off the water and stepped back, hands dripping, then brought his wet hands to the back of his neck. He sighed heavily, relishing the cool water on his skin, then rushed to the sink to turn the water on again, and bent down to drink from the faucet.

"Alright, alright, that's enough," the policeman said, furrowing his brows at Dukhaan. "Come on. Hands up."  Dukhaan swallowed and exhaled, then hit the lever to turn the water off and wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve. He straightened up to present his hands out to the policeman, who quickly cuffed him again and led him out of the bathroom. "Should be some bandages behind the desk here," the policeman mused, nudging Dukhaan along, who seemed a bit more compliant now that his throat and neck weren't on fire.

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In a short time Dukhaan was sitting on one of the hard metal waiting chairs while a woman--the same one that had been at the desk--bandaged his hands. They didn’t have any gauze or anything fancy like that, just old band-aid bandages, and she was trying her best to keep the sticky parts away from the wounds, but Dukhaan could tell it was a struggle for her. His eyes had been locked on the little metal pin on her shirt, signifying something about the police force, but she didn’t look much like a policewoman. Maybe she just liked the pin.

Dukhaan's eyes flicked from her shirt to his hands, flexing his fingers a little as she went to unwrap another band-aid, and he gave her a grin. "Got any Pokemon ones?" he joked, half under his breath, and the woman looked up at him very fast, eyes wide, before her brows furrowed in confusion. Dukhaan gazed at her for a moment before smirking and shaking his head. "Nothin'."

Dukhaan briefly wondered if the woman had been scared of him, since she'd asked the policeman--Dukhaan wondered what his name was--from before to stand beside him to keep watch. There wasn't a whole lot to be scared of, Dukhaan thought as he watched the woman go back behind the desk. He stood up on command and began walking into another hallway with the policeman at his back. Sure, he smelled like smoke, and he guessed the fact that he'd almost given a guy a concussion didn't help his case much, but he was a nice guy. Wasn't he?

Sure, sure he was.

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Esfir ran fast, faster than he was quite sure he'd ever ran in his life. His chest heaved up and down as he dashed down the cracked sidewalk towards home. He rounded a corner, trying to remember the way back home in his fear-clouded mind. It wasn't like he'd never seen a fight at Dukhaan's school, but he'd never ever seen Dukhaan punch anyone like that. Especially not Jadyr.

Jadyr was a pirate, or at least, that's what he told Esfir. So surely he and his scary pirate crew would get back at Dukhaan for hurting their captain. Esfir didn't like Jadyr's crew at all--most of them were really mean, and cursed a lot, and one time Jadyr made Esfir sleep in Dukhaan's bed because Jadyr's first mate needed to 'crash' at their house. He'd smelled even worse than Jadyr had. Dukhaan had been mad about that, but he'd said that he wasn't mad at Esfir. Just... mad.

Breathing hard, Esfir finally reached their house and knocked on the door so hard he hurt his hand. He squeaked and held his fist to his chest, eyes wide, then remembered there was always a key under the mat, per Jadyr's rule. He bent down and picked up the mat and retrieved the house key, then tried to jam it into the keyhole, shivering hard as tears beaded up in his eyes. He didn't have to wait long, however, as suddenly the door opened and his mother was standing, her hair tied back and her eyes tired. They lit up with surprise at Esfir, however. "Esfir! What are you doing home? It's hardly half past noon," she said, immediately noticing the tears in Esfir's eyes. Wordlessly she took him by the shoulder and tugged him inside, closing the door behind them.

His mother led him inside and squatted down, her hands on his arms. "What happened, Esfir? Why are you crying?" she said gently, one hand going up to brush his cheek and push hair out of his eyes. Esfir sniffed, the knot in his throat tightening and finally breaking over as tears streamed down his face, his face scrunching up as he cried. His mother’s brows knitted together, her mouth a thin line, and she suddenly looked at the door, then back down at Esfir. "Where is Dukhaan?"

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"S-some officers took him away!" Esfir wailed, only really knowing the blue police uniform from the one Officer Jenny wore in Pokemon on TV. She always rounded bad people up with her Growlithe and took them away. Dukhaan wasn't a bad person, was he? No he wasn't, but the growing look of horror on his mother's face frightened him all the same.

She quickly tried to compose herself, taking a deep breath and blinking a few times before asking, "When, Esfir? What was he doing before that?" There was a small tremor in her voice, carefully controlled, as she gently gripped his shoulders. "Were you two at school?"

Esfir nodded in response to her last question, bringing his fists up to rub at his eyes in attempts to stop the tears. "Dukhaan and Jadyr got in a fight! A-and then Jadyr got knocked out, h-he wouldn't get up, b-but then the officers were there and--and--!" Esfir cut off as trails of globular tears rushed down his face, and his mother's hands loosened on his shoulders for just a moment before tightening again and leading him to the old couch in the living room.

"Okay, it's okay, honey. It's okay, Dukhaan is going to be fine..." she murmured, sitting on the couch beside Esfir and pulling him into a tight hug, rubbing and patting at his back. "Mommy's going to go and get Dukhaan, okay? So please don’t cry."

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"B-but what about Jadyr?" Esfir cried, burying his face in his mother's sleeve, sniffing and sucking in breaths. "Th-there was a lot of blood, a-and everyone was shouting... i-is Jadyr gonna be okay?" His mother's chest tightened at that, a stab of guilt in her heart that Jadyr had been an afterthought, and she gave Esfir another tight squeeze before leaning away and standing up.

"I'm sure Jadyr will be fine, baby," she said, already rushing to turn off the stove in the kitchen, where she'd started to prepare a lunch for herself. That would have to wait. The school had a nurse, she was quite sure, so Jadyr would likely be taken care of. Surely Dukhaan didn't have enough strength in him to do something serious... did he? Swallowing down her thoughts, his mother opened the door and turned back to look at Esfir, still glued to the couch. "There's a snack in the fridge for you, okay? I'll be back soon. Don't open the door for anybody. I love you," she said on rapid fire, already going out the door.

Esfir dried his eyes, though more tears still came, and he nodded. "L-love you more..." he mumbled out his usual response, and curled into himself. A snack was about the last thing he wanted right then.