Verin did not deserve her demise & quite frankly, the GRIM REAPER is a fucking asshole for ever taking her. She should have been given a SECOND chance; like most young souls, she should not have been TOUCHED by death. It is unfortunate that they’ll never get that dance but he’s positive now, where she’s at---there’s still free food.

      Morning haze fading, all that’s left is the day & his plans. Not to work but rather, to visit his pal, ADAM. It’s only half business as Rome just wants to chat about recent jobs, maybe breach the topic of Ver without the aggression. She’s been HEAVY on his mind lately & he isn’t able to figure out why.

   ( He will, in a matter of minutes upon arrival. ) It’s NOT the usual cheer Adam would have; his own personality fails to shine. Even the way he pulls the door open seems heavy but have no FEAR, the kingpin truly believes what he has to talk about will get a rise outta’ him! He is WRONG again.

   Beer in hand, the other shoved deep in his pocket, Rome begins to wander. His steps lead him to the front room, glancing at all the things Adam’s decided to decorate with. Funny how domestic a murderous bastard could be. He’s near commenting on it, no doubt seconds away from cracking a joke when he NOTICES her. 

   ‘ Ooh shit, who’s that? ’ His loose mouth instead questions it; the URN atop an eye-level surface. If Rome had just stepped up, he could have saved himself the anxiety. Adam’s response doesn’t come & silence seems to breed anxiety, like bugs atop green water. The question is REPEATED, this time; with more fervor; an intense need to know. 

       ‘ It’s VERIN. ’

    At first, it’s some sorta’ SICK joke. That’s NOT Ver---it CAN’T be; the usual denial. Rome is immediately struggling---pulling a choked noise from his throat, it sounds somewhere between a whine & a chuckle. Glass in his hand nearly slips but that would betray his crumbling composure, now wouldn’t it? ‘Nah, man..’ is painfully mumbled as he reads the name on the urn.

         It’s Verin. 

     Like rotted gears falling from the train of his SANITY, he dwindles into shock & fails to react properly. He reads her name for too long, gaping mouth, an ache in the cage of his chest. Something tries to escape but all he sounds like is a fucking IDIOT, stumbling over himself, fading words instead of finishing them. Without noticing, his feet take him back & the inscription blurs. RED-faced, the kingpin desperately pads his eyes with free fingertips. It HURTS---it fucking hurts.

     ‘ I gotta’ go, man---   shit just....     SOMETHING came up---I don’t.... ’ It’s terribly obvious that Roman has slipped into a state that can only be described as NOT OKAY. His expressions do not match his crackling voice; he looks twisted, feels worse but he varies in tone. Adam will have to excuse him---he doesn’t seem to have a handle anymore. 

     Palm rising, Rome doesn’t need the story---he doesn’t need anything but for him to UNDERSTAND, as he now understands the weight in Adam’s life. He leaves his beer on the table by the door & proceeds to hammer frustrations in the cabin of his truck. It’s DARK, pitch black & so he allows himself to come undone in the parking lot---just for a little, just until he’s numb to it.