Nick takes one look at her, and then another. He's unhurried about it.
He grew up rough, sometimes on the streets, sometimes in places he really wasn't wanted, sometimes just wherever the government could stick him. He's seen a lot of girls like Alisa. The exact type of meekness, the jumpiness, the retreating, and yet needing some kind of companionship, reaching out for any reassurance instead of simply running away. He can't be sure of exactly what - but she's been hurt. Parents, other kids, grown men, its impossible to say. Maybe repeatedly, but she's a victim, and he knows it.
He kicks one leg over the bike and approaches, glancing at the pair.
"Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt any friend of Corey's." He's not going to say he's a nice guy, or not dangerous - she doesn't need to be lied to again.
"I'm Nicholas. What kind of name is Tink?"
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