"Go back!"
The bouncer's voice was a low snarl, vibrating with a level of hostility usually reserved for stray dogs and plague carriers. I had barely set a foot toward the entrance of one of the more respectable-looking pavilions when he blocked my path like a wall of meat.
"Why? I'm a customer!" I demanded, trying to inject some of my old "I-model-for-Vogue" authority into my voice. It was hard to pull off when I smelled like I haven't showered for days and was dressed in rags.
"You're a nuisance," he countered, his eyes raking over my dirt-smeared face with an aggravating smirk. "Move along before I move you myself."
I wanna rip his mouth off. I know I can take them on but I don't have a penny to compensate for any damage I make. I don't wanna go back to prison or do I? For a shelter for example.
