Another dreary day, another hangover. The party last night had not been worth it in Ramsay's eyes. No fights had broken out, no gunfire had been heard, and no one had gotten on their knees for him in any way. He knew he shouldn't have gone to one of the upscale, uptight nightclubs. The snobs that infected the place were enough to put him off, and add to that the police officers snooping around the streets, and Ramsay was left with a disappointing night and a dull morning. Ramsay had wanted a fun night out with a few of his friends, maybe run into a rival gang and start a fight, but none of that had happened last night. The only enjoyment he had gotten out of last night was laughing at the patrons that had waited in the cue for about two hours before being let inside the club. He had been tempted to find the tallest and most impatient man outside and start a fight, but that idea had been shoved to the side once he realised that police were walking around, just waiting for someone to step out of line so they could throw them into jail for the night. They won't get the best of me, Ramsay had told himself, and he had stuck to his word. Seated on a park bench not too far from the nightclub, Ramsay took a drag of his cigarette and watched as people walked by. Some had spared him a glance and he threw a glare at them in response, but most didn't care. The average person didn't care about specific names of gangsters – they were more concerned about the collective of 'street crime', the nasty and malevolent entity that roamed the streets at night and attacked pensioners and lonely young women. So none of them paid Ramsay much mind, a fact that he found both amusing and irritating. He wished to be feared, and with the rise of gang crime, perhaps that could soon be reality. It was slowly turning into Ramsay's city, and he couldn't wait to claim the world. But first, he had to deal with his hangover. The quietness of the morning was disrupted by the arrival of Will, who took a seat beside Ramsay, a plastic bag in his grasp. Ramsay smiled as his gaze landed on his friend. The two of them had risen up through the ranks of the gang together, had been there for one another at every twist and turn. Will was alright in Ramsay's eyes, and that was saying something. And considering he had what Ramsay believed he had in that bag, then he was definitely high up on Ramsay's friend list for now. “Painkillers,” Will said, grabbing the small box out of the bag and holding it out for Ramsay to take. “I got a bottle of water too, in case you needed to wash them down.” “Thanks,” Ramsay replied, placing a couple of painkillers into his mouth before grabbing the water. He swallowed the pills down with a quick swig of water, grimacing just a bit at the bitter taste of the painkillers. At least they would do their job, though. “Last night really wasn't worth it.” “I don't know, that place served some good drinks.” Typical of Will, always try to look on the bright side. “But there was no fighting. I was hoping some of our 'friends' would have shown up so we could have gotten a bit of a scrap in. But nothing.” Ramsay sighed. “And did you see all of those officers hanging around? It's like they're expecting a riot to happen.” “Well, you know how the police have been 'cracking down' on street crime. Not cracking down hard enough really though, are they? I mean, you're still running around.” Will chuckled at his own joke, and Ramsay smiled in response. “They'll never take me out. If it was me against one of them, they wouldn't have the guts to try me.” “Which is why they walk around in twos and threes on nights out.” Ramsay was about to make a remark, but someone caught his eye. A young man that Ramsay felt he vaguely recognised was coming down the street, looking as if he was going to head to college or something. He looked young enough to be a college or uni student, and Ramsay narrowed his eyes as he tried to place the young man's face. Was he a friend of a friend, or someone Ramsay had only met in passing? No, he would have been able to remember the name that accompanied this man's looks. Will had followed Ramsay's gaze, though he didn't may near as much attention as Ramsay was. When Ramsay failed at placing the young man, he let out an irritated huff and stood up from the bench. “Oi, you,” Ramsay called out at the young man, hoping to catch his attention. “Where do I know you from? Who's your dad?” If this one was gang-related, Ramsay assumed he would have heard of his father. Perhaps he was the son of some rival gang leader. That would make for a much more interesting morning. Waiting for a response, Ramsay watched the young man closely, still trying his hardest to place his face.