"That's a better welcome than being beaten to a pulp and having a car thrown at me." Or getting stabbed and killed, she almost said, but she shut that thought down almost as soon as it surfaced. She didn't like thinking of it, didn't like thinking of the peacefulness of her brief time of nonexistence that followed the painful and messy death.
She stared down at the streets below, not really seeing the lights of the cars that drove this late at night or the sparse trails of people walking. "Nothing called me here. I just needed some air. So, how long've you been an inmate in This Fucking City?"