[5:14:33 AM] Morkisey: YOU CAN'T JUST GO AROUND DROPPING NICK CAVE

[5:14:54 AM] Cillian Murphy Crazy Eyes: NICK CAVE IS UNDER MY BED

[text; daniel]: babe please tell me your phones ok

[text; daniel]: ugh this is gross i am gross

Would you, ah, mind repeating that for me?

It’s hard to figure things out when you’ve got a metaphorical gun pointed at your head and someone’s about to pull the trigger and blow your brains out. It’s hard to keep level headed when you know you’re going to die and the only thing you can do to save yourself is destroy someone you care about. Weighing pros and cons was not on the table. There was no question about it. Danny feared death more than he feared anything else, so when he received a note telling him he was marked for death if he didn’t assassinate Angel, he had no hesitations. Well, perhaps he had a few hesitations and a night of drinking and sobbing to himself, knowing there was no option for him. Fear was the driving factor behind his final decision to go through with it.

He bought himself a gun with a silencer, he wanted to make everything quick and painless. No bleeding out in agony, just a shot to the head that would make Angel’s life end swiftly but surely. His hands were jittery when he loaded it for the first time, testing his aim by shooting at his furniture. What would he even say? How would he do it? It took him a long time to come up with a plan, but when he received the note that told him time was running out, he made up his mind in a flash. Like a coward, he’d wait until Angel turned their back to shoot. Maybe he’d take them out to dinner, make it a special night, just to appease his own guilty conscience for his future actions.

Could he really pull the trigger, and why did he consider his life to be more valuable than the life of Angel Del Monaco? Selfish, selfish, selfish, the word repeated and echoed in his mind until he couldn’t take it anymore. He just had to finish the job. The last note told him he had until sunrise to do it. All the night long, he dripped sweat from his forehead, anxiously tapped his nails on tables and fidgeted around. He never said what was wrong, he tried his best not to let it show. At the end of their well-spent evening together, Danny was trying not to cry in the moment he kissed Angel for the last time. He was trying to avoid their gaze, but he looked into their eyes and he faltered.

In the very next second, Danny pulled out the gun. He trained it on Angel for a moment, but in swift action he turned the gun on himself and pulled the trigger. Death may have been a frightening experience, but he’d go into the darkness knowing he had done the right thing.

Something was wrong. Something was absolutely, completely wrong and Angel couldn't figure it out for the life of them. Although Daniel seemed to be on the mend, they couldn't help but notice little strange qualities about him that made them question how he was doing it, how he was convincing them that he was alright. After about a week of this, nothing seemed out of place, so, Angel shoved it aside, focusing more on the fact that Daniel was doing well, and getting on more with his life.

When Angel was asked to go out for dinner, they responded with a gleeful smile. Daniel and Angel had yet to go on a real date, or what felt like a real date, and Angel spent at least an hour deciding what they should wear. Choosing something that felt comfortable on them that day, and that would impress Daniel was difficult, but they managed to find it.

All night, though, Daniel seemed distant. Angel would try to tell him a story, only getting a nod or a smile in response. When Daniel did speak, his voice would shake slightly at the beginning of his phrases, and the hesitation to hold Angel's hand across the table only proved that something was up. Angel asked once again, after around a week of not trying to pry into Daniel's business, still ending up with no reason why.

That's why the end of the night came as such a shock. The gun was pulled out, Angel staring down the barrel of it. Tears that had been building as Daniel was trying to explain himself finally flowed down their cheeks, their mascara creating lines down their face due to them. Their hands were shaking, they were pleading for Daniel to put the gun down, to not shoot them. They'd do anything he asked them.

ᴍᴀɴᴅʏ ʙʀᴏᴏᴋs ++

The alpha female's jade green eyes were fixated on her teacup. She reached out to gently touch the handle then she picked it up. She brought the cup to her lips and took a delicate sip of tea and then set it back down on the light blue checkered tablecloth. With a very fluid flick of the wrist, she gestured to Danny.

"You do the same now, McQueen," she commanded.

If he tried to joke around again during her etiquette lessons she felt she might scream. He always found some way to bumble and mess the whole thing up. She'd cry and he'd spend all his time pretending to try to console her to hide the fact that he was proud for ruining her tea parties. Her eyes flicked in his direction. Her white, fake eyelashes batted as she stared at him.

"This year, McQueen." 

❝So Danny-boy, didja wanna go fer drinks sometime?❞

Riagán didn't realize he was talking to his cousin. Even if there were similarities between 'Danny McQueen' and 'Daniel Kennedy', the two of them hadn't actually seen each other since Aunt Patricia's funeral when they were eleven and ten respectively.