It was no secret that RΓo had fleetingly met with Stockholm here and there. He hadnβt thought anything of it, nor about hiding it because this wasnβt betraying the bro code, or anything similar. He did not even like her like that and to be honest he took offense to it, to the allegation. He would never get involved with Stockholm, Denver should have known that. But the rage had blinded him like so many times already, it didnβt surprise him that much anymore, and perhaps it had been one hug too much, one smile too much, that finally set his best friend over the edge. What had, however, was that he did not seem to trust him. And that hurt. β Nothing is going on. β His left hand turned the faucet off as the other adjusted his rifle. The look he sent into the mirror was only fleetingly, as if wanting to see the otherβs face without looking at him. He knew that anger was gnawing on him, that was no secret, he also knew that he wouldnβt believe him alone, he had to talk to Stockholm, too. And RΓo did not want to get in-between that. He didnβt want to cause any fights in an atmosphere that was already dripping with tension. Therefore avoiding Denver entirely seemed to be the best solution for now. Surely, they needed to talk that out. But not here and certainly not now. β Iβm going to watch Palermo for the next four hours, we can talk after that. β It were two hours, actually. But the longer he could avoid this confrontation, the better it was. For who, that was certainly in question.
β β Too much shit was going on, that was the problem. And not just heist-related, but also, especially, on a personal level. Ever since that stupid fight in the monastery, his relationship with MΓ³nica had been hanging by a thread, that was no secret at all. Instead of talking things out, being fucking professionals, they had dragged their unresolved issues into the bank, planted a damn time bomb waiting to go off. And now, due to the ever-growing pressure, the absolute nightmare that rescue mission had just turned into; it all finally was, exploding like a volcano. Their perfect life together in paradise seemed more distant than ever, almost like a dream. As if the bubble of bliss had burst, and reality was smacking him square in the face. However, they had already made things work out during a heist before. Surely, Denver intended to fight for his family until his last fucking breath, prove to MΓ³nica that he was still the same man she fell in love with back in the Mint. A better one, determined to change, leave behind the demons of his troubled past. For her, and for Cincinnati. They just had to sit down and talk like two adults. Yet, what does she do instead? Secretly meet with RΓo, being all smiles and fully opening up to him, sitting barefoot on a couch. Barefoot. Who the hell does that during a heist, a full-on fucking war? It was just the final straw, what had ultimately driven him over the edge: RΓo, a best friend. No, a brother, betraying his trust with such a stab in the back, when everything was crumbling down. Denver truly felt like he was losing his mind. Hence adjusting the rifle, stern gaze quickly fixes on the otherβs reflection in the mirror at the sudden words, a blatant lie. β Nothing? β Thatβs why youβve been avoiding me around every corner. Canβt even look me in the face right now? Come on. β Why act so strange, if thereβs nothing to hide, to feel guilty about. It was just crystal clear, and RΓoβs attitude right now was really pissing him off. Thatβs why, firmly, a step forward is taken to stand in the latterβs way; chests barely touching, as well as pent-up anger notably rising, forcing him to stay in the room. Look him in the eye and dare to keep lying. β Me importa una puta mierda Palermo. Weβre talking now. β That clown could wait right where he was; tied up, completely immobile. Denver's sanity, however, was at freaking stake here. β βCause you face things head on, not avoid them, ΒΏentiendes? So Iβll ask you again. Whatβs going on between you and Stockholm? β
