Midnight Secrets

Droog had gone into the kitchen half an hour ago. He had already gone trough a full pot of coffee and was waiting on another. Might as well load up on caffeine since he wouldn't be sleeping tonight.

He walked right past Droog to head over to the cabinet where the glasses were held. He raised his arm to grab one, only to let out a low grunt and quickly bring it back down when the movement stretched his wound.

Droog rolled his eyes but got up. He was still angry with Slick. But the other man needed his help. Besides it would be hard to explain to Duece and Hearts why was bleeding out on their kitchen floor. "I'll get it." He reached for one of the biggers glasses they owned before handing it to the shorter male.

He blinked at the glass in his hand before letting out a grumble under his breath, the closest thing to a thank you he was going to get. He filled it up with water before gulping it down, leaving the glass on the counter for now. He finally looked over at Droog before speaking up. "'S with all the coffee?"

Droog shrugged as he turned to go back to the table. "Don't feel like sleeping. Just want some coffee." As if Slick really need to know he was the reason why the slightly taller man couldn't sleep. Another thing he'd never let his Droog live down. "Why aren't you sleeping?"

The shorter man shrugged and made his way over to one of the empty chairs, plopping down onto it with a grunt. "No fuckin' clue. Thought the pills would knock me out, but they only numbed me a little." He ran a hand through his hair and sighed sharply, wincing a little with the action.

Droog bated how concerned he felt for the other man. Caring for anyone but himself never lead to anything good. He couldn't help but wince as he watched Slick. The shorter man was obviously in pain. There wasn't anything Droog could do to help him. He bated that fact as much as he bated how much he cared.

Slick glanced up and looked at him with a small frown. "Quit that face." He mumbled, putting his hand back down on the table. "'M just fine. 'S just a flesh wound, so don't be belly-achin' about it." He knew Droog was concerned, which showed weakness. The last thing he needed was his right-hand man going soft on him.

Droog frowned and tried to sneer at Slick. He thought he had been maintaining a neutral expression. Of course Slick tried to make it sound so simple. The man could have all his limps cut off with a gaping hole in his chest and he'd call it a flesh wound. "She's going to kill you Slick. I will nit be staying to see that happen."

"You keep saying that, Droog. You keep threatening to leave, but you never do. I honestly don't get why. You've never been one to make threats and leave em empty." He raised a brow at him now. "What's keeping you here?"

You. "My commitment to this crew. And even that is wearing thin." He was scowling at Slick now. "I mean it this time Slick. That dumb cunt is going to kill you. I don't know why you're letting this happen. And quote frankly I don't care anymore." He stood up. "It's her or me. You have a week to choose." Droog went to the counter and turned the coffee pot off.

Slick watched him with the same expression as he spoke, and even more so as he got up to turn the coffee pot off. "Her or you, eh? Makin' it sound like a relationship factor. But alright, Droogsy, I'll play your game." He stood up from his spot and flinched before talking to his glass, filling it up and taking another gulp of a drink. "One week, and you'll have yer answer."

Droog flipped him off over his shoulder as he walked out of the kitchen. This wasn't going to be easy. But when Slick got killed the crew would just fall apart without him. Might as well leave sooner than later. Hopefully it wouldn't come down to that.

Slick snorted before getting to his feet, filling up another glass before heading to his room again to try and get some sleep. This time was a little more successful as he managed to slip under the surface of consciousness. He had some serious thinking to do in his very near future.

Droog was the first to wake up the next morning. This wasn't unusual either. The other three crew members normally slept in unless something absolutely had to be done before noon. Droog was staring at the coffee pot as he waited for it to fill. He had slept for about three hours and he knew he was going to regret it later.

Slick was sound asleep in his bedroom, sprawled out along the bed as he snored softly. More like heavy breathing. His mind was full of thoughts put to rest, coming to life in his dreams. On the left was Snowman, and on the right was the Crew. He frowned as he looked between the two of them.

Choosing the route of trial and error, he went to the left. The woman before him sneered with a smirk as it contorted into something a little more demonic. He was repeatedly slashed with unseen forces, blood splattering from his body. He collapsed to the ground and looked towards his crew for help. But all he was was their backs, and all he heard was their retreating footsteps.

On the conscious level, Slick was groaning in discomfort.

Droog checked the time on the stove. Ten o'clock already. He'd have to leave soon. His wonderful day of following and watching Dose had to begin at some point. Hopefully someone would come along and have a useful conversation with him. Droog might just sleep all day if the second member of The Felt was going to do literally nothing all day. Quite frankly it was suprising and disturbing how he could spend all day sitting in a chair and stare at a wall.

Like most dreams, this one started over with the same scene. However this time, he went to the right. Snowman dissolved completely behind him, and Droog stepped forward to greet him. But rather, his right hand man's hands lifted to pointlessly fiddle with Slick's suit and tie, an odd look on his face. 

Was that relief? Happiness? He wasn't quite sure, but the groans on the outside had stopped now.

Boredom. That was going to be the cause of his death. Droog was literally going to die from boredom. The blue hated imbecile had been sitting in the same spot for four hours. Staring at a black, white wall. This had to be a cruel punishment. There was no possible way Slick thought this idiot would do anything worth spying. Droog had to use all his self control to not smash his head against a wall. The abandoned building he was using to watch The Felt Mansion smelled like the inside of a Costso Warehouse. In other words, like cat piss.

"Only five more hours of this useless bullshit." Was Dose even blinking? Droog set his binoculars down. He brushed away the dust on the floor the best he could with his foot before sitting down. He was trying to surpass a yawn as he slowly tipped onto his side. He wasn't going to sleep. Just resting his eyes for five minutes. Five minutes then he'd be back up. No big deal.

Sleep sleep sleep, that's all Slick did for most of the day. This pills had finally kicked in to their full extent at some point during the night, and of course, Slick had taken one too many. Not enough to threaten his life, but enough to cause him to stay asleep longer than necessary. By the time he had woken up, it was dark outside, and that caused him to frown.

Little did he know, he had nearly slept the entire 24 hours away, but what he thought was only an hour or so. Fuckin' hell.

A loud booming noise from outside caused Droog to jerk up. At first he started to panic when he couldn't see anything. It didn't take long for him to realize it was only because the sun had set and there were no lights on nearby. No street lamps outside, all the lights of the mansion facing the street were off, and he didn't have any light source besides his phone. His phone! Droog quickly fumbled to get it out of his pocket. He growled and cursed when the screen wouldn't light up. Damn thing had died while he was passed out. He was just going to have to find his way out of the pissy smelling building, find his car, and hope for the best. It couldn't have been too late. He hoped it wasn't too late.

Off in the distance he heard an explosion, though he didn't think much of it. He was too preoccupied with his own thoughts as he went to the bathroom and then headed to the kitchen. On the one hand, he had the attention he craved, even if it was in the form of pain. Attention is all he wanted, though he would never directly come out and say it. He kind of liked the pain to be perfectly honest. To some degree. 

On the other hand was the Crew, the three men who swore to back him
up no matter the situation. Through thick and thin and back again, he could turn and see them there, always at the ready. The closest thing to a family he ever had. 

He frowned. Goddamn it, this was hard.

Getting back to his car had been a breeze. Two of the smaller local gangs were having a territory dispute again. All eyes were on them tonight. Droog was thankful he didn't have to try to be extremely sneaky. He just didn't have the energy for it. It amazed him how he had slept for eight hours and was still tired. Hopefully the other three would be in their rooms when he got back.

No sense thinking on an empty stomach. Surely Droog had saved some leftovers from tonight's dinner. With a pained grunt, he stood up and made his way to the kitchen. He found it odd that he didn't smell any residual essence of food. Maybe Droog had cooked dinner early. He took a look in the fridge, frowning when he found no properly cooked meal waiting for him.

This wasn't right.

He made his way to Droog's room, not even bothering to knock as he opened the door. Nothing. He checked the bathroom next, then the planning room, the weaponry, and even the lounge, and Droog was nowhere to be found.

And if it wasn't for the fact that Slick was starting to get nervous, he would have realized the increased beating of his heart.
...Did he really leave?

Deuce peeked around the corner before quickly heading down the hall back to his own room. He had been checking back ever so often to see if Droog had returned and made dinner. No sign of Boxcars or Slick either. The latter was more than likely in a foul mood. The leader of The Midnight Crew was quite cranky when he was hungry. Deuce would have made something, but the best he could do was make sandwhiches. Slick would have probably just bitched about not having a real meal. He hoped the second in command would be back soon.