As it so happens, I'm in a writing mood today. Might have something to do with the Game of Thrones marathon, but this idea has been festering in my head for a while. Plus the lack of Delsin/Fetch is mildly disappointing. This is an AU, and it doesn't follow the timeline exactly, and there will be mild spoilers. Be warned.

"It's the pink hair." Fetch's brother, Brent, piped up. To be fait, there were several different questions that Fetch could have asked to get that response. There were several situations that might stem from her brightly colored hair. But running way from a teacher for getting caught skipping class was not either of those scenarios.

"What?"

"The hair. You asked why the teachers always catch you. The hair. It's practically neon."

Fetch sighed. "So I'm guessing you're mad."
"No no. It's only the fifth time in a week that I've gotten a call about you skipping class. You know-"he lowered his voice "You know what's gonna happen if you keep doing this. They'll call Mom and Dad-"
"I know what'll happen, Brent." she cut him off.

"Then why-"
"Just drop it, Brent."

Abigail Walker was many things, but "easily influenced" was not one. Yet that didn't stop her principal from writing those two words on a piece of paper, which somehow made its way to the hands of a county sheriff. But that didn't explain why she was sitting in said sheriff's house.

She would have preferred an interrogation room. But some well-to-do guy's house that with a teacup in her hands? Nope.

Apparently, the guy's name was Reggie, and she was sitting in his house because he thought she reminded him of her brother.

"Delsin Rowe?" she sputtered. "Spray tag it and bag it Delsin?" She'd heard of him (who hadn't?) for his artwork (though illegal he knew his way with a spray can) and for his rumored attractiveness. She'd never seen him, but his playboy rep preceded him.
The dude sighed, putting his cup down. "Is that his new nickname?"
"Outside of here? Yeah."

"Son of a-DELSIN!" Reggie thundered. Fetch heard muffled groaning, and then what sounded like a pillow hitting the ground, then footsteps.

"Reg, it is a Saturday, and barely two' o clock. Why are you yelling?" the kid who Fetch assumed was Delsin muttered, walking into the room.

Fetch was not a boy-crazy girl. Not by a long shot. But she would not deny the rumors of Delsin's attractiveness in the slightest.

"Oh, you didn't tell me you had company, Reg. I'm Delsin Rowe." He said, sticking out a hand,
"Fetch Walker. I've heard of you."
He raised an eyebrow."Have you?"
"Yes, she has, Mr. "Spray tag it and bag it"." Reggie scowled.

"Hey, if people give me nicknames based on my artwork-"
"Art is when someone pays you to draw or paint or whatever. It's not vandalizing property!"
Delsin took a breath. "I'm assuming you didn't invite Fetch here to yell at me in front of her."
"No, I didn't. Fetch is the "other delinquent-".
"Feisty side, huh?" Delsin winked at her.

"-that I told you about."
"Wait, wait. This is about criminal camp?"Delsin demanded.
"It's a reformatory school-"
"Why am I here then?"Fetch cut in.
Reggie looked at her. "Your brother didn't talk to you?"
"No. What about reformatory school?" Fetch asks.

Delsin scoffed "It's a camp in the middle of fucking nowhere for "delinquents". It's supposed to show us the "error of our ways."
"It's a beneficial program-"
"Aw, save it. I'm going to talk to my brother." Fetch muttered, storming off.

"I think the program will do you some good, Abigail. You've been getting into a lot of trouble..."
Normally, Fetch would argue, but today she stared at her oatmeal instead. She'd slumped into bed the second she got home, despite it being early afternoon.

He was sending her away.

Ever since they escaped what she called their parents' tyranny, she and Brent had been on the same page for just about everything. Yeah, Brent was the "adult" by a couple of years, but that was a legal label more than anything. But now he was just sending her off?
Yeah, she skipped. A lot. That didn't mean he could just…ship her away.

"…And you could use some-you're not eating." Brent said, looking at her full bowl.

"Can't bring myself to do it. My big bro doesn't want me around, tends to damper my appetite."
"It's not like that, and you know it."
Fetch flicked spoonful of oatmeal at him. "Seems a little steep though. I skip some classes and you send me to delinquent boot camp with Delsin Rowe."
"Delsin's going? Deliquent Delsin?"
"Dude's got a way with spray cans." Fetch grinned. "Plus, he's pretty cute."
Brent put his head in his hands. "No."