#mastermindingmymanners

The Hitman got to work, cleaning the lap of his pants.

The others didn’t seem to be around to stop him this time.. Once he saw Dallas look up slightly and begin to turn, he struck. The Cloaker slid in, and instead of a flying kick, he stabbed the Mastermind in the back of the left leg. Once he started going down, he took the opportunity to kick the injured leg, pausing for a second with his foot on it when he heard the snap. After the start of the scream, he reached down and slammed his hand over Dallas’ mouth. “I’m gonna let you in on a secret.. ‘Buddy’.. you’re coming with me. Do we have an agreement, or am I gonna have to get mean?”

He leaned back from the desk he was at, looking down at his stomach. “Yeah, yeah.. I know I’m getting fat.” He patted his stomach, then shrugged. “I’ve been sitting here doing nothing but telling you guys what to do and watching cameras for a while… What d’ya want from me?” He chuckled at the end of his statement.

It took him a few moments to rummage around and find everything. Once he did however, he headed back upstairs to Dallas as fast as his legs would allow him. Almost sliding back into the room, he placed the bucket by the older man and tossed the bottle of pills at him. “There y’go. That’ll hopefully fix you up in no time,” he smiled and looked at the plans, relieved to see that they weren’t ruined. “So, what’re you workin’ on?”

Hoxton was never known for having a filter even when completely sober. He said what he wanted without the slightest of care. Believe it or not, there were actually some things he did refuse to say, only in protection of his own dignity. Personal things that truly bothered him. Those he kept quiet, but with his volatile mood swings and the tendency to bottle things up they occasionally slipped through.  “No I don’t want no soddin’ water. Fish piss in it. Though another beer’d be good.” Another. How many he’d had already, only god knew. He’d lost count sometime after the 7th. If he had his way, he’d drink himself into oblivion.  Despite the small distraction, he was quickly back to the original topic. “Hell, sometimes I wonder if yer even fam.”

[text: Smooth Criminal]: nate buddy help a fella out please[text: Smooth Criminal]: I may have pissed your brother off and heohfuckheffoundmeasrkeckwv;ctre,lkrtr

Duke was relieved to have Dallas’ permission, though it certainly wouldn’t have stopped him had he not allowed it.  “Thank heavens. I’m not sure the poor thing would have survived out there on its own. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to find her some food.” With that, he handed the kitten over with little room to argue, and headed to the kitchen.