BOOKER.

‘name’s charles xavier.  i’m of a group of individuals with… special talents. i’ve been watching you for a while – it’s not easy, don’t worry. your security is exceptional.  i had an unfair advantage.  you and your team seemed to be doing well for yourselves, that’s why i stayed away. i didn’t want to intrude, but…’ he paused, staring at the other’s shoes for a moment before looking back up at the frenchman.   ‘—you look like you can use some company now.’

a smile lights joe’s face, a reflection of a perceived job well done. it isn’t difficult to occasionally take it upon himself to tease booker - even if just for the sake of pulling him out of his own thoughts. though he isn’t cruel - he laughs quietly, and takes back the pad. ❛ poor batuffolo, let me fix it. ❜ 

not quite so easy as he makes it sound, but joe has had many years of practice, and when he tears the page out to hand it to booker, it looks far more like a picture than a cartoon. still, yusuf is grinning as he leans back, pen idle for the moment. ❛ do you think we’re at an standstill here? ❜ there is supposed to be a shipment passing through here, but according the last intelligence they received it should have passed hours ago.

joe won’t call it until they get word from andy, but it doesn’t hurt to speculate. 

“BATUFFOLO YOURSELF.” NO HEAT IN THOSE WORDS; AND BOOKER QUIETLY SMIRKS, leaning back in his seat again. shitton of centuries and it’s still endearing how these two have grown into the habit of chattering away in the other’s mother tongue. focussed back on his work does the sound of paper ripping stir him up a couple minutes later, and he gladly accepts whatever Joe has to offer. small gifts that keep on giving; and when one’s immortal        like it or not         reasons to smile are always appreciated. he looks good. and he pockets the piece of paper with a little smile tugging at the corner of his lips, before digging for a pack of cigarettes in the pocket of his jacket.

“looks like it.” Booker glimpses out the window to find the roads still empty. not a soul moving out there. he lights a cigarette. “might be a delay for whatever reason. or they’ve run into different trouble than us.” it’s no big deal, really. some money slipping through their hands, some good deed undone for once; nothing to lose sleep over should they come back home empty-handed. it’d be wasted time, mainly, but what else do they have to waste but time? and lives, technically.

‘perhaps it’s not alternatives that we ought to seek.  —the only way is forward now. …or so said a smart, grieving man.’

“ nah  ,  she’s GOOD. ”  red waves off  ,  eyes following a glass flywing across the room and shattering against a wall in a billion little pieces  —  a lot like their chances to stick around after andy’s talk.  she’s never been much of a beach person  ,  but she surely was getting used to it  ( and the drinks  ,  the drugs  ,  the boys and the girls )  but things don’t last forever  ,  don’t they.  PITY  ,  it could have been the perfect location for an anticipated retirement plan.  cigarette twirls between her fingers  ,  then is brought to her lips once again to her lips.  “ mi piaceva stare qui. ”  she eventually lets out  ,  and just right on cue the corner of eye catches a glimpse of the don’s henchman hitting his face against the counter.  with a final sigh  ,  cigarette falls on the floor and is stepped on by her boot.  hand quickly draws for the GUN hidden behind her jacket.  “ you know what book  ,  let’s go say hi. ”