Crip meets up with Lyric the next day, and thankfully he gets yet another break.

Crip listens as Lyric whistles a tune. He was a really good singer. Anything he whistled or hummed sounded great too, always so catchy and rhythmic.

Lyric: "You ever sing Crip?"

Crip shakes his head.
Crip: "Oh no, I'm not much of a singer.
Lyric: "I bet you are too. Your voice is so cute, I bet you sound great."
Crip: "I don't think so."
He laughs nervously.
Lyric: "Tell you what, come on inside and we'll see. I've got a shit-ton of music, you're bound to know something."
Crip nods.
They head inside, and Lyric hands him an iPod. He wasn't joking, there really is a shit-ton of songs on this little device.

He finds one of his favorite songs, Scientist by Coldplay, and clicks on it. It begins to play and Lyric picks up the iPod staring at the song choice.

He begins to peacefully sing along with the song, and Crip can't help but admire his voice. Even with his slight Russian accent, he had such a great voice.

Crip hesitantly joins in, and after a few moments, he doesn't even notice, but Lyric had stopped singing.

When he realized he's the only one singing, he stops, and stares over to Lyric, the song still playing in the background.

Lyric steps closer, taking Crips lips on his, kissing him ever so gently and peacefully.

Lyric: "Yeah, cute, just like I thought."

Crip smiles a bit.

The next night is Bullets night. Crip wasn't sure how to feel about bullet. He was crazy, but not like Prophet crazy, but still very much insane.

I guess being almost shot in the head does that to a guy. Still, it's apparent Crip doesn't wanna be at his house when he steps through the door.

There's guns. Guns. Everywhere.
Big guns, small guns, long guns, short guns. You name it, he had it, and Crips guess was that none of them were legal.

Bullet: "So, which one?"

Crip: "E-excuse me?"

Bullet: "Pick one. Which one do you like the most?"

Crip blinks a few times, very confused. Did he wanna tell him about guns? It'd be a lie if Crip said he didn't have an interest...he just couldn't see himself with one.

Ever...

Crip: "Why?"

Bullet: "It's important for you to like the gun you pick~"

Crip turns, looking around the room.
He spots a small pistol, and points.

Crip: "That one."

Bullet smirks.

Bullet: "You sure that's the one?"

Crip: "For what? To learn about?"

Suddenly Bullet starts to chuckle.

Crip stares confused, until the other male steps over to grab the pistol. He holds it in his hand flat, holding it up to Crip.

Bullet: "Pretty ain't she?"

Crip: "I guess so.."

Bullet: "C'mon."
He says flirtatiously, holding the side of the gun up to Crips face.
Bullet: "Kiss her~"

Crip: "W-what? Bullet-"
Bullet: "KISS."
Crip trembled at the loud, stern word.
He leans in slightly, pressing his lips against the cold metal.
As he pulls away, Bullet is suddenly staring with more lustful eyes.

Bullet: "My turn." He states, dragging Crip by his arm into another room.
It's only when Crip hits the bed does he understand what's about to happen. He gets up, and turns around to see Bullet clicking the gun back...

Aiming right at him.