> There's a difference between degrees of murder too.

> "Oh, but where would you get your sweet sweet cancer sticks then?"

> Heart stops.

> Think it through. Last supplier was the only show in town for the stuff. Most places don't even have smoke shops anymore, nevermind someone willing to sell to a kid.

> Only source left now would be some criminal network.

> What's your angle? What's the price for nicotine in this hell of suburbia?

> "Oh nothing much, just a little help now and then."

> She pulls out a frigging wrapped gift.

> "For my dear, dear sister."

> Take it with trembling hands. The shakes haven't started, but can feel what's inside.

> Tear open the paper.

> Yep.

> Lupa sized girl-scout uniform.

> "Why don't you put it on?" Leia's purring like a cat who got the cream. "Make sure it fits."

> Girl's got her by the neck. It's either keep her tobacco and live as a minion, or keep her self-respect and loose her ciggies.

> Think long and hard.

> Two weeks pass.

> Chewing honey-gum to deal with the cravings.

> Every last stash went AWOL. Last emergency cig went up in smoke five days ago.

> Withdrawal still better than letting the princess win.

> Stop near the kitchen, see old man and evil snitching sister talking. Hide and eavesdrop because why not?

> "... and you're sure no more's getting in?"

> "Oh the police are getting anonymous tips, and I hear they're VERY accurate." Leia's in full smug mode. "The lungs of Royal Woods youth are breathing easy."

> "Of course, that kind of on-the-ball effort doesn't come cheap..."

> Old man laughs, and hear the distinctive rustle of a wallet opening.

> Fuck.

> Was this her real angle all along?

> Grit tar-stained teeth as she realizes that it doesn't matter. 

> The house really does always win.

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