ain't no rest

Tim begrudgingly accepts the glass and the towel. The water tastes so good right now. Maybe he is seriously in trouble? He starts to dab the towel at his head.

"I don't know," he finally answers. "Haven't had a chance to stop and see yet."

He ducks his gaze away, not wanting to feel good about the worried look Lorcan is giving him. It makes old feelings bubble up and they shouldn't. Sure they'd made out on the roof of a club but that doesn't mean anything right? It can't if...

"Thank you," he says. "For not kicking me out."

If he let his mind wander, he'd recall the last time Tim was in this apartment, and the arguments that led to them not speaking for those 6 years... Suddenly it seemed as if those fights didn't matter. Well, they still mattered to an extent, but that extent was greatly defined and limited by the way Tim looked tonight. Despite the things they might've said to each other years ago, Lorcan would always be a safe place for him.

"I would not do that to you," the dealer let his words hang there, making a resolution that getting caught was simply not an option. They just wouldn't get caught. Simple as that, "Will you tell me what happened? Really. Please."

“I appreciate the warning,” he said once they were deeper into the gallery. His fingers traced along the edge of a nearby pedestal, needing to feel it under his touch to ground himself. “Though, I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do with it.” Honestly, with the situation being what it was it was  hard to imagine how he was going to get away from the scene all together. This also added a whole new layer of anxiety to the situation. 

With another sigh, Haneul rubbed a hand over his face. “Aren’t you here on their behalf? Can’t you tell them I’m not here? I changed my name, you know, they won’t know, will they?” He said hopefully, wracking his brain in hopes to find something that could sound like a way out. “You can say Howl is dead, it’s technically true, Howl Pendragon isn’t actually here anymore.” 

"I think they know, man," They knew enough to send Lorcan in here looking, and that couldn't be complete anonymity like Haneul wanted, "Not the name, sure, but they know people don't just vanish. I mean, would you let that kind of investment walk off into the sunset?"

It's very cold to think of people as dollar signs and investments, but that was just the world they lived in. Everyone had a price, and some men were rich enough to demand it.

"I think we can make this work out, though. If they were planning to drag you back in, I wouldn’t be here alone," Actually, they wouldn't have sent Lorcan at all. Snake Eyes had a whole separate team that did the beatings, "I can't speak for anyone else in town but my bosses just want to see if you’re profitable, or scared. Even if you're not 'you' anymore," Lorcan chuckles, finding an absurdity in the situation. He's not completely amoral. He has to laugh or else he'd feel bad, "I can tell them a place like this is small and not worth the effort. But you'll have to keep your head down in return, or else I can't do much else."

Lorcan Kane had been one of the first friends he had made after he had come to Godscobh, after all, and that means something to him — even if, sometimes, he cannot help but to feel that it might mean something only to him.

However else Lorcan may feel about him, though, it had never stopped him from speaking to him whenever they did indeed meet, if only to tell him that he was busy and they could talk more later.

The truth, the real reason as to why he kept returning to the casino time and time again, is that he was lonely, even if he would not admit it. That he had no one else to speak to late at night, while walking these snowy streets by himself, and that he would like not to be alone, even if for a minute — and sometimes, he could not help but to feel that Lorcan might be a little lonely, too.

But even as friends, or close enough to it, he had never been invited anywhere by Lorcan before. He was always the one to seek his company out first, to chase him down and speak to him — which is why it had come to him as such a surprise when he had texted Lorcan about his new phone and received an invitation to meet him at his apartment and an address.

When he reaches his door, he’s hopeful and curious about what to expect — even if this childlike excitement translates into his expression only as a faint smile plastered upon his lips and a bright shine in his eye as he knocks on the door — thump thump thump — and waits for a reply.

“Hello? Lorcan? It’s me. It’s P. I’m here.”

@childofhcll

And for that very reason, the dealer had no fucking clue why P wouldn't leave well enough alone and kept trailing around Snake Eyes. After every time Lorcan tried to ward off the kid, all but telling him straight up that this wasn't a good crowd and wasn't a safe place for the cherub-faced and honorable. Eventually though, Lorcan saw in P what he'd noticed in himself years ago. Back when he'd still used a fake ID to get into the casino. The thrill of deviance, the excitement of winning, and the idea of belonging to a place kept him coming back. Of course it only occurred to Lorcan that he might want to leave after he realized he couldn't. He should've paid more attention to the lyrics of that Eagles song.

When P had asked about the "dust" he'd heard whispers about, Lorcan all but told him to walk in the other direction. Upon consideration though, Lorcan had been a kid who stumbled upon the underbelly of the town despite all warnings too. If P was going to get into the world of pixie dust and other drugs eventually, Lorcan figured it did the most harm reduction to introduce it in a controlled environment with someone P trusted. Though Lorcan, again, had no fucking clue why P had decided to trust him among everyone else in town.

"Yeah, I figured," Lorcan opens the door with a laugh, already smoking a joint as he welcomes the street kid into his humble apartment. He hands it off to P, assuming he'd also want to take a drag, then turns to show the place, "Drop your stuff anywhere, shoes by the door, and come grab a seat."

"Lorcan." She says, a heavy hint of arguably maternal affection bleeding through. Probably intentional, all things considered. She was big on appearances. There wasn't a thing that Antonia showed outwardly that wasn't meant to be seen.

"I think a bet sounds just perfect for tonight. But how about a tip to start us off on the right foot?" She offers, her smile already widening on her face. She did like to have fun. And this was always good fun.

"Like a tip that I can exchange for goods and services or a tip that'll make me reconsider my path in life and my very wise decision making?" He shuffles his deck with flair, knowing she'll probably want him to slant the game a little towards her. But like she really needs more money? She's just in it for the thrill of it, and Lorcan has to respect that.

"Seems like a good deal. Too good," Having a place to hide his stock and records was tempting, but Hook has been doing just fine until now. It's incredibly suspicious that Snake Eyes would offer him anything when Hook's failure is their success.

"You get staff and, potentially, dirt on me. How do I know this won't be used against me in the future?"

"I guess you don't. But uh, the logic we're following is that you're in need of a little help right now. It's not a crime," Not in the literal sense, at least, among all the other plethora of crimes they've committed. Though in some ways, pointing out that Hook is in a vulnerable place is more likely to get Lorcan a death sentence than anything else. Best not to harp on that for long, so he gets back on track quickly, "Look, we know what it's like to have everyone's eyes on us, and Snake Eyes has always been able to stay one of the biggest businesses in town. It's advantageous for both of us to align our businesses, especially if we're going to need a new strategy on handling the pressure from the city."

"Lets say for a moment someone recognized you - council member, important guy- someone sees you doing this enough times, figures out you’ve got a route, figures out you don’t verify people's IDs. It makes you predictable enough to run a scam against, just saying." And honestly, being on the council puts a major target on Mercury's back. Xe might not have realized it, but it's the exact reason why Lorcan didn't want to be singled out. Not because Lorcan is important, because Mercury is.

Tim winces and does to try to wriggle out of Lorcan's grasp but he's tired, bleeding, and in pain. He doesn't really have the energy to fight this. He's the one that came here anyway. Tim keeps telling himself it's because Lorcan's place was close and the police wouldn't be looking in this building.

But hearing Lorcan worrying about him is sending him back to times when Tim would come back from a parkour run with nasty scrapes and Lorcan would help. Then they would...

"No," he says to his brain and to Lorcan. "I'll be fine, you don't need to baby me."

They're in the kitchen which is small enough that Tim is essentially trapped. He huffs and leans against the counter, trying to seem cool and annoyed but his eyes flutter because he's so fucking exhausted. At least the bathroom has the bathtub he could lay in.

Silence fills the apartment for a moment, and Lorcan remembers they haven't spoken in... quite a while. He's not sure if he should be upset this is how they're meeting again. Or somehow hurt and betrayed Tim didn't come sooner? Maybe he doesn't feel any type of way about it, and is just glad Tim isn't at death's door in an alley somewhere. Instead, he's here now, and he chose to come here over anywhere else when he clearly needed help. Did that mean something?

"Don't do it because I said so, do it because it's good sense. Are you bleeding anywhere else?" He hands the washcloth over, feeling Tim's sigh reverberate through both of them.

There's many reasons coming to Lorcan's place after years of purposefully staying away is a bad idea. But when you're running from the cops (again) and some wounds that you basically superglued shut reopen and you're nowhere close to your own place... well, those reason's not to go kind of go out the window. Which is the opposite of what he did.

Of course, this is the first time he's been back and it's not a great second first impression.

"I'm fine," Tim insists, trying to weave around Lorcan for the bathroom where he was planning to lock so Lorcan wouldn't see the worst of his injuries from the botched raid. "Just give me some superglue and maybe a butterfly bandaid and I'll be right as rain." Unfortunately for Tim, Lorcan's gotten more wily since they broke up and has managed to block Tim from the bathroom.

When he'd opened his front door and come face-to-face with his ex-boyfriend simultaneously crawling in through his window, it seemed like a sleep-deprived hallucination. In seconds though, he noticed the gash drying on Tim's forehead and the blood pooling in his teeth and lips, and suddenly the dealer didn't feel tired anymore.

"Why the fuck would I keep superglue in the bathroom?" That's really not what they should be arguing about right now, but it's the only thought he can muster up when also trying to weasel around Tim and get a better look at his injuries. There's no way he's letting Tim leave here with nothing but a bandaid. Lorcan's hands quickly, firmly grasp onto Tim's shoulders and assertively turn him 180 degrees to push away from the bathroom door, "We're going to the kitchen sink and you're washing your mouth out with salt water."

"You're not from around here, are you?" The dealer raised an eyebrow, "We have plenty of people who wouldn't take kindly to being handed something random off the street by someone who doesn't even work for the post office. Not trying to be rude or anything, but you know, just gotta be careful."

"Truce? Funny, coming from a house that thrives on watching people lose," He folded his armed, appraising the young hustler, "And don’t flatter yourself, kid. If I wanted my men planted in your casino, you wouldn’t be guessing."

He wants the names of the guys who defected, in fact. Will need to keep a close eye on what they've been saying. It's not a bad idea to make nice with Snake Eyes, though. For a short while.

"I'm listening."

"Well, I guess that answers the first issue, if you didn't send them. We'd like to add more of them to our staff for the time being. They can make a little money, and we need the people to meet the demand," And demand was higher than ever, with the prospect of dust scarcity on the horizon, "And we wanted to offer some of our space, if you need anything... accounted for in the time being that you don't want found on Nauticus property. That's what I was told."

At the end of the day, Lorcan's only a messenger. And he really doesn't want to get shot.

When Tinley's laundry piled up to the point it demanded she deal with it, she'd learned the laundry room at her apartment was never the reliable option, with the Boys taking over the machines and often forgetting their laundry. But she didn't mind taking the trip to the laundromat when the occasion called for it, finding something oddly peaceful in visiting late at night, when it was usually just her and the machines, occasionally a moment of solidarity with another tired straggler.

On that particular night, the laundromat deserted except for her, the swish of the washing machine creating its own white noise, she felt safe just crumpling for a moment. She sat on a bench in the back corner, arms wrapped around her legs, and hid her face behind her knees, just releasing long, shuddering breaths. She didn't cry—as private as this moment felt, it wasn't private enough—but it was as close to crying as she would allow herself.

Everything was so . . . heavy recently. And though she was loathe to admit it to herself, scary. January had felt like a month of nonstop running, and she was exhausted.

When she heard the front door open, she didn't look up, hoping they wouldn't stray near her corner. But she startled when she heard Lorcan's voice, quickly sitting up.

Recovering, she stretched, pretending like he'd walked up on her napping, and settled into a crossed legged position, a friendly smile on her face. "Lorcan! Hey! I was just resting my eyes for a moment. It's been a long day. I'm fine, really."

His question posed to Tinley was sort of rhetorical - he knew she'd been questioned, knew her friends in the gang would've gotten beaten and bloodied in the scramble to safety - but it was nice to ask. She wasn't the kind of girl to hang her head or make herself small, so something was obviously eating away at her.

"More like it's been a long month," He steps into the threshold of the laundromat, hearing the whirrs of machines running and buzzing of cheap lights, "Kind of seems like you got your shit rocked, no offense."

Xe raised an eyebrow, handing him the letter. “You sure? Last I checked your name was Lorcan Kane, right?” Though it was a question, xe knew xe was right on the money. Just a feeling xe had.

"Do you make a habit of just approaching people on the street?" The dealer did take the letter, but it was more than likely a bill or scam mail advertising something inconsequential. He'd open it carefully at home when he could make sure it wasn't filled with anthrax beforehand, "What if I wasn't me and you just handed something over?"

Not that Lorcan wanted xem checking his ID, but the question feels worth asking. The level of trust Mercury had in the town was astounding, and in Lorcan's humble opinion, rather foolish.

The next person was… ah, there they are. 

A grin on xer face, xe moved closer to the other. No doubt they were at least semi-aware of Mercury, how could they not be? 

“Hey there, you wouldn’t be letterless, would you?”

Even if they didn’t know xem, the bag and letter in hand would be more than enough to clue someone in. Or it should be. Who knows, maybe Mercury somehow managed to get the wrong person. Except… that had never happened before.

Must be the work of xer incredible intuition.

“As you can see, I’m letterful. Mind taking this one off of my shoulders?”

The dealer didn't even realize xe was talking to him at first - no one was sending Lorcan letters.

"Don't think that's for me," Was it? Even if so, how the fuck did Mercury know his name, even if it was the one printed on the letter? Has xe been watching him? "Who even writes paper mail nowadays?"

Tim giggles and bites Lorcan back. It almost feels like they never stopped. Like they were paused instead of broken up and they finally pressed play again. Lorcan leading Tim up to their feet because they need to be closer from lips to toes, feeling their long legs and lean torsos. And soft lips. Always soft lips.

Tim even lets out a quiet whine when they separate for air, too attached to kissing Lorcan again already.

Then the exhilaration loses some power and reality starts to creep back in.

"Yeah," he says, breathless. "Yeah it is. We really shouldn't be doing this," but he doesn't pull away. For all the big game he's talked, he still doesn't want to be the mature one and put a stop to this for their safety.

"We shouldn't..." he mumbles, brushing their noses against each other, silently asking for another kiss.

"Okay. We shouldn't," Lorcan clears his throat and pulls their foreheads a sliver further apart. The dealer's arms give a squeeze to Tim's waist, but then part so his hands can feel their way up Tim's back, up his ribs, and landing securely on his shoulders, "Tim, you should probably... take the night. Go on home."

He can't let Tim ask for a kiss again, because he'd be he'd be on his knees again in an instant. Metaphorically, of course.

"And if you want. You can call me in the morning," Though they'd probably have to unblock each other's numbers, "Or you know where to find me."