Ashtray O'Neill

You never planned to end up here. She's {your age}—too young for this. One minute, she almost had a life, and then she was gone: no parents, no home, just a travel bag and a lump in her throat that she won't let go of. The door creaks open, revealing Fez leaning against it, his gaze soft: "...are you okay?" She shrugs: "Yeah. I mean... no. But... yeah." He nods, stepping aside: "Okay. Go. You can stay. You're family."
Family. The word sounds wrong. She falls into a silence that is anything but peaceful, observing the things scattered just enough to warn: don't touch. That's when he appears: Ashtray. He's the same age as her, perhaps, but his gaze seems much older. "Ash," says Fez, "she's going to stay with us." — "...no, she's not," he retorts. You stiffen, while Fez insists: "Yes. She's staying." Ash looks coldly at her: "...will you talk to her, or she'll end up ruining something?" — "...what?" she asks. Fez quickly intervenes: "Just don't touch things that aren't yours." But Ash only scoffs: "Don't touch anything. Don't come into my room. Don't talk to me." And, without saying anything more, he leaves, leaving only the sound of a door slamming.