Croatia, 6 years ago

  Shot glasses clinked against the bar as the two men finished their second round of shots. Lights pulsed around them and the music was pounding so hard that it seemed to shake the walls. Richard gathered the empty glasses and added them to his growing stack to make for an easy clean up, a smile plastered across his face like he had just won the lottery.

  “Alright, alright,” he chuckled, leaning in towards the other. “Now we can switch to a real drink.”

  “You know I can’t stand shots and yet you make me do them every time.” Rodgers grimaced, his face twisting in mild disgust as he leaned against the bar beside his best friend.

  “Oh, stop. It’s my birthday, which means I make the rules, and rule number one is you can’t be a sour-puss about anything,” Richard waved down the bartender, who caught his eye with a nod, signaling to the two that he’d be there shortly.

  Rodgers glanced from the bartender to Richard, an eyebrow raised on his young face. “I still don’t get why you wanted to go so hard tonight.”

  “Twenty-one is a big deal! You can legally drink.” Richard didn’t look at him as he answered, he just watched the bartender in anticipation.

  “In America, for only human Americans,” Rodgers countered. “We’re not in America.” He wanted to drive his point home in case Richard didn’t connect the dots he was laying out before him.

  Richard looked at him and pointed at his own chest, that grin somehow spreading wider across his face. “Yeah, but I’m American and a human, I’d regret it later if I didn’t do this.”

  “I’m not trying to be hungover tomorrow. It’s a big day and we have work to do that requires so much concentration,” Rodgers reasoned in a somewhat rambling tone.

  Richard opened his mouth to shoot back a teasing remark but the bartender arrived before he could. He snapped his head over with excitement, like nothing could’ve stopped him from ordering. He even wiggled slightly where he stood.

  “Ah, that was fast! I’ll take a rum, neat, please and thank you,” Richard drummed on the bartop slightly, like he couldn’t sit still.

  Rodgers wrinkled his nose at his friend’s drink of choice. He needed something to mask the alcohol in order to be able to drink anything.

  “Just give me the spiciest margarita you’ve got. Really drown out the taste of liquor, if you could,” tequila was what would get him drunk enough to not mind being in here.

  “Coming right up.” The bartender left and Richard looked at his companion with an unimpressed face.

  “What now?” Rodgers groaned.

  “You’re such a buzzkill,” Richard sighed softly, shaking his head, “everywhere I bring you it’s grump-central. You really know how to kill a mood.”

  “Am not and I do not.” Rodgers protested.

  Richard turned to face the dance floor, leaning back against the bar with his elbows propped behind him.

  “Are too,” Richard nodded once and Rodgers decided not to argue. It was his birthday, after all.

  The place Richard had picked was dark and dingy. It was small, cramped, with little room to actually move around. It wasn’t any help that the place was packed, Rodgers swore he had been stepped on at least six times since they got in.

  Richard scanned the scene before them of people doing things they would so clearly regret in the morning; drinking too much, kissing someone they shouldn’t, heading home with a stranger. It was all amusing to him as he watched on.

  While Richard was looking at the dance floor, Rodgers was shamelessly looking at Richard. His gaze followed along his friend, the glint of his old cross he always wore shining in the strobe lights every now and again. His black hair was fluffy on his head, it usually was. He wore a black tight tank top under a loose jean jacket, the hard fabric just barely grazing his collarbone every now and again. Rodgers never knew how he kept everything about him so clean and perfect in the lifestyle they had on the move. He supposed those extra moments in the bathroom had to be it and nothing else. It certainly was not any driving force beneath his chest that begged his brain to agree that maybe, just maybe, there was something else that made Richard always seem so perfectly put together in his mind.

  His gaze traced the line of his friend’s long neck before he caught Richard’s sideways glance and quickly shifted his eyes away.

  “Caught you staring,” Richard smirked.

  “I wasn’t,” Rodgers shot back but had no real negative tone to his voice.

  Their shared soft laughter was what eventually cut the tension of what was implied, and soon enough, their drinks clinked down onto the slightly sticky bar top. Rodgers handed Richard his glass before picking up his own. They clicked the rims together, gently, then each took a sip. Richard took a bold gulp, like he needed it, while Rodgers gave a cautious taste to see if he would even like the drink.

  “How do you do that?” Rodgers asked, his lips still curled in distaste.

  “Do what?” Richard looked over.

  “Drink rum straight like that. It’s awful.”

  “Part of the occupation, I guess. It’s an acquired taste.” Richard just shrugged, tipping his glass from side to side.

  “The one thing I don’t mind not acquiring,” Rodgers shook his head, “couldn’t pay me to drink that stuff.”

  They let the music fill the comfortable silence, Richard’s eyes once again drifting over the flashing lights and bodies on the dance floor. His gaze eventually wandered back to Rodgers, down Rodgers, and then up to his face. He let a sly grin grow, like he was plotting something.

  “What?” Rodgers caught the look and furrowed his brows.

  “Do you remember when we first met?”

  “Yes,” Rodgers huffed a small laugh. “It was on your birthday.”

  “Ten years ago today.” Richard leaned in close to his friend. “Ten years of putting up with you, a whole decade.”

  “I think that’s called friendship, not ‘putting up with you’,” Rodgers corrected.

  ”Not when it’s what I’ve had to do. Then,” Richard went back to leaning on the bar, “that’s just straight up dealing with you.”

  Rodgers shyly gave a smile, sipping his drink out of embarrassment. He supposed he wasn’t the easiest to deal with and swallowed before speaking.

  “Listen, you ended up agreeing to be my partner at the end of our first year, so I must’ve done something right.”

  Before Richard could fire back because he was very much ready to banter, a tall, lean figure slid up beside them. Rodgers recognized him instantly and rolled his eyes; it was Sethrin, the disgraced wizard whose scandal had rocked the global news only a year prior.

  “You two looking for something stronger?” Sethrin’s eyes dazzled as he leaned into their space, his voice smooth and overly practiced. It made Rodgers want to gag. “I’ve got a new concoction I’m trying to get on the street, It’ll let you experience what you want most in this world.”

  Rodgers exchanged a wary glance with Richard before shaking his head.

  “No, thanks.” Richard politely declined with a smile on his face. He found the desperation somewhat amusing.

  “You really should work on that pitch,” Rodgers gave his advice, “it’s way too blunt.”

  “I did work on it,” the wizard grumbled before slipping them each a business card. “Stop by if you change your mind.”

  With that, he melted back into the crowd as quick as he came up, his silhouette swallowed by the strobe lights and bodies. He was sure to find someone drunk enough to give his… whatever he was selling, a shot.

  Rodgers tossed the business card onto the bar without a second glance, while Richard slipped his into the pocket of his jean jacket. His fingers lingered on the card in his pocket for a moment before he straightened, a thought occurring to him just then.

  After draining the rest of his drink, Richard pushed away from the bar. The alcohol was fully settling in now, that familiar warm, buzzing heat spread throughout his body.

  “Order me another and meet me on the dance floor,” Richard leaned over, placing a hand on Rodgers’ side as he spoke. Just as the liquor was drained from his cup, the color drained from Rodgers’ face at the touch.

  Rodgers watched him leave him then, Richard weaving into the crowd before Rodgers flagged down the same bartender. He ordered them both another round of the same and downed the last of his own drink as he waited. His brain replayed the feeling of his hand on him. Over and over again as the warmth from it left him.

  It was the fresh glasses that hit the counter that dragged him from his thoughts. He scooped them up, shaking his head as if to scold himself, and headed into the chaos to find his friend.

  He scanned the crowd, but Richard was nowhere to be seen. In the heat of the crowd, that familiar warm hand slid along his side but it slipped just beneath the edge of his shirt this time and Rodgers spun around, nearly spilling their drinks.

  “Welcome to the party,” Richard grinned, taking his glass. At some point, he had shed his jacket, leaving his dragon tattoo fully exposed on his forearm. He was down to just a black tank top, his skin glowing with a light layer of sweat. Rodgers' gaze trailed once again, but this time around his friend's biceps before he ripped his gaze down to the floor. He swallowed hard, regaining his composure, and took a gulp of his new drink.

  The bass thudded hard in time with Rodgers’ heart pounding in his chest as they moved together, bodies brushing occasionally. As they danced, their glasses slowly emptied, and Rodgers was beyond tipsy now; his fingertips and lips slightly numb, but the rest of his body heightened to every sensation.

  Richard’s hand found Rodgers’ side again, but this time it was more deliberate. He was making a point to touch him and keep his hand there this time. He was close, so close that Rodgers could smell him through the thick, alcohol and sweat soaked air.

  Those fingers crept higher, slipping beneath the fabric of Rodgers’ shirt just as they had done when he first arrived but there was more confidence in Richard's movements.

  Rodgers didn’t stop him and eventually his palm settled on his side where Rodgers had his own dragon tattoo.

  Richard tugged him closer, their breaths mingling, and the music hammering in their ears. His free hand found Richard’s shoulder, fingers curling to grasp at the strap of his tank top as their lips hovered just a breath apart. Rodgers’ eyes fluttered closed, his head tipping slightly forward, but at the last second, he leaned back, breaking their moment.

  Their eyes met almost immediately, Richard’s eyes were searching for what went wrong while Rodgers’ eyes were wide and conflicted. Without another word, Rodgers slipped back into the crowd and left, the neon lights flickering over his retreating figure.

  Richard now stood alone.

  By the time he found him again, Rodgers was at the bar closing out their tab.

  “You done?” Richard leaned against the counter to steady himself. “We were just getting started.”

  “We should get back to the hotel.” Rodgers’ eyes stayed fixed on the paper he was signing.

  ”Roe, about the—with what happened out there—“ Richard drunkenly stuttered over himself, not wanting Rodgers to hate him for what had just happened.

  “Let’s,” Rodgers put the pen down but refused to look up. “Let’s just not talk about it, please. It’s against the code. You know it is.”

  “Against the code,” Richard echoed and heaved out the same guilty breath he had been heaving for a while now.

  “Find your jacket,” Rodgers instructed sternly and the other man left without a word.

  After a few minutes, Richard managed to locate his discarded jacket. It was slung carelessly over a chair against the back wall. He grabbed it, yanking it on before he went back to his friend in defeat.

  They stumbled out into the cool night air, the smell of the sea not too far off, and sauntered down the uneven cobblestone streets which didn’t help their already slightly unsteady steps.

  Rodgers seemed to relax a bit as they made their way back and Richard felt a bit relieved. Well, relieved and yet still still unsatisfied. Unsatisfied and drunk enough to push slightly.

  “You know,” Richard said, breaking their silence. “I think I’m gonna do this every birthday from now on.”

  “Yeah?” Rodgers bumped him lightly as they walked.

  “Yeah. Why not?”

  “Even when you’re eighty?” Rodgers scoffed in disbelief.

  “If I get to almost kiss you at eighty, then I’m definitely going to the club.”

  Rodgers froze mid-step. Richard, already a few paces ahead, stopped and turned back as he noticed Rodgers’ hesitation.

  “What?”

  “Don’t say that,” Rodgers managed, his voice faltering slightly. His fingers curled into his palms as he tried to remain collected. He wasn’t very successful.

  Richard exhaled, a long, frustrated breath. One that told so many stories without having to even say a word. The exhaustion of this back and forth, he was over it.

  “I don’t know what else I can do to make this clear to you,” maybe he would regret it in the morning, but Richard thought most people in that club would regret something. This was probably going to be his, always would be.

  “You don’t mean that, you’re messing around to get a rise out of me.” He extended an accusatory finger to Richard, anger bubbling up over the sadness he felt. “It breaks the code, I told you that inside and countless times before. We are companions, you are just supposed to be a pawn to keep me safe. That’s the deal between us. Us being friends is already bad enough! It can get us separated. This is supposed to be a coworker kind of deal.”

  “Fuck the code, Rodgers! Stop with the rules all the time; you only like them when it’s convenient for you.” Richard’s hands went out, exasperated, before dropping back to his sides. Rodgers was surprised, usually anger from the other man was not what he was met back with. Richard would typically just roll over, stay quiet the rest of the night, and forget it happened in the morning. This, however, was a turn of events.

  “You think I’m messing with you? For the past—what—four years now? I’m just sitting around messing with you?” Richard continued to yell at him in the middle of the empty street, “I’ve been trying to get your attention, and you just... ugh, and now you’re saying I’m pranking you?”

  “You’re not?” Rodgers blinked. There was a part of him that always assumed this was Richard humor. Maybe it was the fact he didn’t want to have to acknowledge his own feelings or maybe it was the fact he didn’t want to acknowledge Richard having those same feelings back. Those feelings, whatever they were, weren’t welcomed in their world.

  Everything was strictly by the book and feelings were never in that book.

  Richard bent over, putting his hands on his knees, and letting out a disbelieving laugh, the cross on his necklace dangling down from his neck as he did so. “Jesus Christ, give me strength.” He straightened, looking Rodgers dead in the eyes. “I don’t know when, but somewhere along the way of all these heists and near-death situations, I developed, uh,” It appeared like Richard had a tough time fully saying it. He had started very confident but when it came time to say it, he flatlined in thoughts. He had spent countless nights next to the other wishing to do something, anything to make what he was about to say a reality.

  A church bell rang off in the distance as guilt poured over him. If he said it, things could change. If he said it, they could be separated. They weren’t supposed to care for each other at all and yet all Richard cared about for years had been him.

  “—Feelings for you.” He couldn’t back down. Not seeing Rodgers in the dim lit lights, standing there like he was both begging him to say it and yet not say it all at the same time.

  “If you don’t like me back, just say that, but don’t not like me back because of the rules. I know we’re not supposed to care about each other, especially you to me, but it’s just us out here right now and I really just,” he felt something shift in his throat then. Like a tear that wanted to come out but he wasn’t about to let it. His body was nearly ready to take this rejection.

  “I really just need to know how you feel so I can move on.” Richard flopped out his hands and looked at the other, exasperated. “Okay? Is that clear enough for you? Or are you going to keep playing dumb and dense to try and escape this?”

  They stood there, staring at each other. Rodgers’ lips pressed into a thin line as he tried to process the sudden confession. All these years he didn’t think it would actually be said out loud. The risk of losing each other was too real, even being friends had them at risk for losing each other.

  Richard shook his head when Rodgers still didn’t answer. He took that as a no, that Rodgers was not going to answer him. He would have to just have to be okay with that.

  “Forget it, dude, whatever. Just forget I said anything. Stick to your stupid code that you’ve already broken so many times before, forever.” He turned to walk away towards their hotel, his shoulders tense and pinched up, before he felt a sudden tug on his jean jacket.

  Before he could fully register what was happening, Rodgers’ mouth was on his, lips pressing firmly against his own. Richard’s heart stuttered, then roared to life as he leaned into the kiss, his hands finding their way around Rodgers’ waist, pulling him close.

  When they broke apart, Rodgers took a shaky step back, his breathing unsteady with nerves of what he just did. “Don’t,” he put up one finger, “don’t make it more than this has to be.”

  “Go on a date with me.” Richard ignored that command immediately. He was not about to make this more than it had to be because he wanted all it could be.

  “What?” Rodgers' face dropped, “What did I just say?”

  “Tomorrow, we will do what we came here to do.” Richard spoke, sure of himself. “Then you will go on a date with me and actually show up.”

  “Don’t make this—“

  “Don’t make this any less than it is,” Richard cut Rodgers off, not wanting to waste another second away from him. Not wanting to play this game anymore. Rodgers swallowed hard, staring up at him as he thought over every possible outcome this could lead to.

  “Okay,” Rodgers replied but it was barely a whisper. “Okay, fine. I’ll show.”

  Richard wrapped an arm around Rodgers’ waist, yanking him back in. This kiss wasn’t as simple as the other, it was fierce and desperate. It was ten years’ worth of unsaid words and stolen glances pouring out in a single moment. Rodgers’ hands tangled in Richard’s hair, his grip firm, pulling them so close together they could feel each other’s blood rushing through their veins.

  They finally broke apart after a heated moment but Richard didn’t let go. With his heart still racing and alcohol clouding his brain, he tugged them along down the road to the hotel.

  In the hall, Richard couldn’t take his lips off of Rodgers, and Rodgers didn’t protest. Desperately, Rodgers’ hand fumbled around for the room key in his pocket, yanking it out and missing the scanner a couple of times before it unlocked. Richard pressed his back into the door once Rodgers had hit the door knob, yanking the other inside during a short break for air.

  As the door shut, their lips desperately found each other again but much to both of their surprise, it was Rodgers who made the first move. Richard took a step back into the small dresser, knocking one of their backpacks off with a crash to the floor. Neither paused to pick it up.

  Rodgers pulled off the jean jacket, letting it hit the floor before working on his own hoodie. Reaching back, Richard slid his shirt off his toned build before he went to run his hands up alongside his companion’s body, slipping Rodgers’ shirt off and throwing it carelessly to the ground.

  Hands firmly gripped Rodgers’ waist as he led him across the room. Richard only had to give him a small push before Rodgers willingly fell back onto the bed. Climbing over him, Richard searched his eyes for any signs of hesitation.

  “Are you sure?” Richard spoke breathlessly, his shoulders and chest moving to try and catch his breath.

  Rodgers’ wasn’t sure, but he did know one thing; he felt safe. Right here, in their hotel room, alone, he was safe. That’s what had to be good enough, he supposed.

  “I’m sure,” he nodded, sitting up and planting his hand on the back of Richard’s neck. Their lips met once more, as Richard climbed on top of him.

  Sunlight crept through the thin hotel curtains the next morning, catching Rodgers square in the eyes. He groaned, rolling onto his back and reaching across the rumpled bed. It was empty and cold to the touch.

  Blinking, he sat up, the comforter slipping down his bare chest. The pain of the night before filled his head as he groaned and rubbed his temples, as if that would rub away both the pounding hangover and the hazy memories. With a deep breath, he tossed the comforter aside, slid into his pants, and quickly checked the small hotel bathroom.

  There was still no sign of Richard.

  Pulling the black t-shirt off the ground and over his head, Rodgers focused on the day and tried to push last night’s chaos to the back of his mind. His hand smoothed over his own torso and his own brain flashed a memory back to when Richard had been pressed to it, bare, mere hours ago. The memories of his own gasp echoed in his ears as he stood frozen in the center of the room, thinking about what had gone down between them.

  He swallowed hard, knowing that if they were found out, that would be the end of their partnership. Surely, they would be separated. The council was already upset with him, it’s why they were even here to begin with, and this would just add fuel to their fire.

  After assuring himself over and over in his mind that no one would be able to find out what they did, the sound of the hotel door clicking open snapped his attention back. Richard stepped in, balancing two steaming cups of complimentary coffee with his old film camera strapped across his chest. Usually, Richard was an early riser on their field expeditions to leave the room and grab a couple of photos around the town before it woke up for the day.

  Rodgers crossed the room in a few quick strides, taking one of the cups from him with relief.

  “Thanks,” he muttered, taking a long sip. He held the rest of what was in the cup close to his chest for warmth.

  “Figured you could use it after last night,” Richard flashed a small, but soft, grin.

  His face turned red at Richard bringing it up so easily, like it was something they had been doing for years instead of the first time.

  Rodgers only nodded and hastily backed away from him to continue to get ready, clearly not wanting to talk about last night.

  After setting his half-empty cup on the dresser, Rodgers reached for his dual holster from his backpack on the ground. He strapped it on, checking the fit before sliding his two blades into place. Right to business and focused.

  “Shouldn’t be too hard to reach the crypt from here. About a mile to the cemetery and church, and we already know which gravestone has the puzzle. It’s new information from there,” Rodgers spoke, his voice low and to the point.

  Richard had other plans as he walked up behind him, setting his own cup down on the dresser as well as his camera.

  “So quick to get to business,” he said, tugging on one of Rodgers’ straps to adjust the fit and leaning so his mouth was mere inches from the back of the other’s neck. “Can’t a guy have a birthday hangover for at least an hour?”

  Rodgers stiffened slightly and took a step forward, turning to face Richard. Judging by the heat on his cheeks, he bet he was quite the sight to see.

  “We don’t have time for this. We need to get to that map before she does,” Rodgers reminded, “if we don’t, I don’t see how I can get back into their good graces.”

  While raising his hands in a fake surrender, Richard chuckled. He tried not to let the rejection get to him. How could he after what he was able to accomplish last night?

  “Alright, alright. Deep breaths. How long are we talking for this little grave-robbing expedition?”

  “A few hours, maybe more depending on if we have unwanted company.” He shot Richard a sideways glance while sliding on a corduroy jacket. “Why?”

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  Richard smirked, swapping his sneakers for a pair of worn boots.

  “I have a first official date later.” He grinned as he laced them up. “Though, the guy’s been blowing me off for a while now. Hoping he shows up this time.”

  “I didn’t blow you off and it’s still very much forbidden.” Rodgers snipped as he rubbed his forehead in frustration. He went next to the bed as he began to unload the rest of his backpack and check their gear, needing this conversation to not happen.

  “He got pretty handsy last night, so I think he’s coming around,” Richard raised his brows, clearly amused. “Not sure how sober we both were, but—” He was cut off as a pillow smacked him in the face.

  “Focus,” Rodgers muttered, going back to rummaging through their low supplies.

  “Fine,” Richard stood back up. “How do I look?” He spread his arms, showing off his jeans, blue hoodie, and jean jacket. “Good enough to rob a few graves?”

  Rodgers gave him a once-over, mind drifting to what Richard had looked like over him the previous night for a fleeting moment before he forced it back to the present. Now was not the time. “Drop the jacket. It’s just going to get dirty.”

  Richard sighed but slipped it off, folding it neatly on the bed. He still looked a bit disappointed as he strapped his old revolver into the holster beneath his shirt. Rodgers glanced at the weapon as well as Richard's torso, his eyes lingering a moment longer than necessary.

  “Wouldn’t a knife be smarter? That thing barely holds any bullets. Runs out fast and it jams so easily. You always have problems with it,” Rodgers thought out loud.

  Richard raised a hand, cutting him off. “Please, we covered this last night. I’m American.”

  “An Asian-American. Isn’t that different?”

  “I’m still American, just first generation. So, if anything, I have a bunch of gun violence to catch up on,” Richard kept that grin on his face, dropping his shirt over the holster.

  “Fine. Ready?” Rodgers shook his head, exhaling sharply.

  Richard raised a finger and downed the rest of his coffee in gulps before he let out a dramatic ahhh that Rodgers didn’t love.

  “Now, I’m ready.”

  “Great,” Rodgers muttered, already heading for the door. “Let’s go.”

  They exited the hotel quickly, passing a small pasta and seafood restaurant along the way that was tucked away into the cobblestone wall. An old woman was sweeping her doorstep next to it, Rodgers guessed that she was the owner and chef, and she paused to give the two men a friendly wave. Richard waved back with a bright grin, while Rodgers simply nodded out of respect. He kept his hands in his pockets as they went along.

  They walked in their usual comfortable silence for a while, the cobbled streets echoing each of their steps.

  “Twenty questions?” After about half a mile, Richard spoke up. Rodgers could tell he was bored but still took a moment to consider his answer.

  “Sure. You’re asking, though.”

  “As usual,” Richard laughed softly, “god forbid you think.”

  Rodgers looked at him, giving him some single pointed look that made Richard turn up his nose in joy.

  “You got it?”

  “I got it,” Rodgers nodded, “shoot.”

  “Is it a person?”

  “No.”

  “A place?”

  “Yes,” Rodgers nodded.

  “Can you buy things there?”

  “Uh,” Rodgers nodded again, “yeah. Definitely.”

  “A store?”

  “No.”

  “You can buy things, but it’s not a store?” Richard furrowed his brow in thought.

  “I said no. Stop complaining and figure it out.” Rodgers grinned, “That’s five, by the way.”

  “No way, that last one doesn’t count!” Richard shot him a disbelieving look.

  “Fine, four.”

  They walked a bit further, as Richard thought about what to ask next. The church bell tower came into view through the morning mist, rising higher in the sky than any of the other buildings around.

  “Is it a restaurant?” Richard tapped his chin, clearly running through his options.

  “Yes.”

  “Alright,” Richard nodded, now encouraged once again. “Have we been there recently?”

  “No.”

  “Not the bar, then,” that encouragement faded fast as he got shot down. He let out a deep sigh and thought his options through. “Hotel breakfast buffet?”

  Rodgers shook his head.

  “Do they have a specialty?”

  “Yeah, I think so.”

  “Steak?”

  “No.”

  “Seafood?” He thought about where they were, the ocean being right there led to some amazing seafood in Croatia.

  “Yeah,” Rodgers nodded.

  “Ten questions in,” Richard sighed heavily, “I’m slipping, this is not my best round.”

  They reached the church grounds during a pause in their game requested by Richard, who was disappointed in his performance. They walked along the rows, viewing some of the headstones as they passed, heading towards the mausoleums closer to the church. Vines grew on the church walls, following the curve of some stones up the tall steeple while moss stuck to some of the stones around them.

  It was an older church and cemetery, one that held so many souls from stories that were nearly myths had they not had a headstone here. Souls from back when people still had secrets to keep till their graves and way beyond, leaving clues for people to seek out what they hid if they dared.

  “Is it that little seafood place we passed this morning?” Richard asked suddenly then, cutting through the silent cemetery with a hint of uncertainty in his voice.

  Rodgers gave him a sideways glance, a small grin spreading on his lips as his friend took his guess.

  “Yes,” he answered with a nod, “it is.”

  “Why that place?” Richard let out a short laugh as they continued along the crumbling stone path.

  “We have a date, don’t we?” Rodgers spoke low, like he was the uncertain one now, and continued to walk down the graveyard.

  Richard stopped short for a second, his eyes lighting up in excitement before he jogged to catch up with his friend… or whatever they were right now.

  “We can go there, sure,” Richard spoke in a rushed tone, not caring if he sounded desperate at all. He was desperate, so there was no bother to hide it.

  Rodgers just gave a short nod as they passed a monolith with the symbol of a trident etched into its side. Rodgers stopped short, stepping back to get a closer look at what they had passed.

  “Here,” he spoke as Richard came up beside him to look as well. “This has to be the one.”

  “That’s it.” Richard ran his hand over the monolith before gazing up to the sky at the crack of thunder.

  “We better hurry, the sky is definitely about to open up and I don’t fancy being wet,” Richard looked back to Rodgers, who gave him a nod.

  They circled the monolith in opposite directions, moving around to the back where a large stone slab loomed across the ground at the foot of the monolith. The new side showed them a new symbol, different from the trident on the backside. There, in the center far up above their heads, three rings of different sizes surrounded an upside-down cross. Rodgers frowned at the sight of it and leaned back for a better look as he eyed it.

  “That’s not right,” he waved Richard over. “Give me a boost.”

  Without hesitation or arguing, Richard bent down and locked his fingers together and Rodgers stepped into his hands, using the leverage to reach the cross. He gripped it tightly, straining as he twisted it upright. It was a crumbling sound of stone against stone and the strain of them both that hid the fact that the ground beneath them shuddered.

  In a blink, they both crashed down as the slab gave way, sending them tumbling into the crypt below.

  When the dust cleared, the two boys coughed and waved their hands by their face to clear the dust. Rodgers’ felt a heartbeat that wasn’t his and looked down, realizing he had landed on top of Richard. He put his hands on the cold floor on either side of Richard’s head to prop himself up, but only barely. He didn’t want to move much until he scanned their new surroundings.

  “Jeez,” Richard joked in a whisper through a scratchy throat. “At least let me buy you dinner first.”

  “Shut up,” Rodgers’ voice was distant as he spoke, deep in thought of analyzing the tunnel they found themselves in. He sat up, not getting off of his friend just yet as he put a finger to his mouth. Richard, covered in dust and remaining on the floor, flicked his eyes back and forth in either direction.

  “Sounds clear,” Richard whispered before Rodgers got up the rest of the way. He extended a hand to him and Richard took it, getting up with a groan. “You’re welcome for breaking your fall.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Rodgers waved his hand as he took a couple of steps away, “thanks.” Though, there wasn’t much of a pause before he added, “Let’s go.”

  The loose dirt crunched under their feet as they walked down the tunnel. It wasn’t much, it just looked like it was dug out from the dirt with a stepping stone here and there on the ground below. When the sunlight dwindled further into the tunnel, Rodgers struck his four fingers against his thumb and lit up a flame in his palm while Richard grabbed an old torch off the wall. Without needing to say anything, Rodgers lit it.

  As the tunnel changed direction suddenly, Rodgers stepped out before he was worriedly yanked back by Richard. His breath caught up in his throat at the sudden pull, his eyes seeing the arrows that had just narrowly missed his body.

  Rodgers steadied himself, looking back to Richard with widened eyes while Richard gave the shorter man a disapproving look.

  “Do you ever get tired of being dumb? Or, like, are you used to it by now?” His tone was a bit harsh, but Rodgers felt as if it was deserved.

  “Yeah,,” Rodgers sighed as an unamused look spread across his face, “I kinda do get tired of it.”

  “Well so do I,” Richard stepped in front before he leaned his head over the side. “Honestly, you’d be dead without me.”

  The holes that the arrows shot out of looked empty to Richard, and none of the other stones on the ground looked raised like the one Rodgers had stepped on.

  “I think it’s emptied,” Richard looked back at him, nudging his head forwards as he stepped out, now leading them both.

  They wandered down the new hallway, now on high alert, until they came upon a large metal door with a relief of seven different tridents.

  “Look.” Rodgers spoke breathlessly. He reached out and touched one of the tridents to the right, its staff designed in the metal door to be broken in two.

  With his touch, it flashed a bright light that caused them both to recoil and shut their eyes, Rodgers biting his face in his arm while Richard put up his hand. When the burning in their corneas subsided, they blinked them back open again and shared a look to see if the other was okay. When they looked back, the door was now gone and in its place left an opening to what appeared to be some sort of throne room. Rodgers relit his palm, having caused the flame to disperse when he recoiled, before they both timidly stepped inside.

  In the cobwebbed room sat seven thrones in a circle and a landscape imprinted onto the ground. Richard recognized the location almost immediately, bringing down his torch before his fingertips gazed at the relief.

  “The eye of the Sahara,” he shared out loud to Rodgers, looking up to him as he stood once again.

  “But no book,” Rodgers noted before turning in place to look at each and every one of the thrones. The throne directly across from the entrance, however, was occupied. An old, rotted, skeleton sat with his hand over a book. The two approached, looking over the artifact without touching it.

  “Three rings,” Rodgers observed the cover.

  “This has to be it.” Richard squatted, looking at the book from all angles. He didn’t trust it, not after the pressure plate.

  “What if it’s trapped?” Richard whispered, thinking of a million and one ways to break it free without risking anything.

  “One way to find out.” Rodgers, without warning to Richard because he would’ve stopped him, recklessly grabbed the book with one hand and yanked it. The skeleton in the throne came alive then, gripping his arm with both of its bony hands and refusing to let him go.

  It was cold against his skin, so cold that it felt like a thousand small needles were burrowing under his flesh so that it couldn’t be torn out, that the hands were fusing together with his skin much like a tongue to a cold pole.

  The pain was enough to send Rodgers to the floor on his knees as Richard pulled his gun from the holster and shot once at the skeleton’s head. The bullet tore through the skull, shatting the bone fragments all around the room, but it still didn’t let Rodgers go.

  With his free hand, Rodgers yanked one of the blades from his holster and, with one strong swoop, knocked what was left of the head off the skeleton’s body. Even with its head tumbling across the room, the hand did not relent, Rodgers continuing to tug on it before Richard grabbed the other blade from Rodgers’ holster and sliced the hand clean off from the arm.

  When the fingers released and the hand off his arm, Rodgers hugged the book to his chest like it was the most precious thing in the world.

  “You’re hurt, you shouldn’t have done that,” Richard got up fast, grabbing Rodgers’ arm to check it.

  “I’ll be fine, it had to be done to get the book,” Rodgers shook his head.

  “I’m the companion, I’m the one that should’ve risked it. Not you.” Richard sighed heavily, running his fingertips softly over the redness of his partner’s forearm.

  “It only stings,” Rodgers mumbled, watching as the fingers grazed his arm. Eyes trailed up his arm and to Richard’s face before he spoke again. “I’ll be fine.”

  “You don’t think,” Richard huffed before sliding the blade back into the holster on Rodgers, himself. Rodgers tucked away the other one, adjusting the book in his hand.

  “Let’s just see if there is a secondary exit and get out of here before there’s more trouble,” Rodgers waited for Richard’s eyes to meet his, sharing a look before Richard scooped up the torch that he dropped. When he stood straight again, he surveyed the surrounding throne room as Rodgers slipped the book inside his jacket pocket, safe and sound.

  “Here,” Richard walked a couple of wide strides to the wall behind the throne that held the book. He blew some dust away, rubbing the wall with his palm as the three rings and upside down cross came into a better view.

  “Same puzzle as before.” He reached up, pulling down the cross into the right position with a hard click, the wall next to it crumbled. Richard coughed as he waved his hand around his face to free himself from the dust cloud while Rodgers came to his side. He placed a hand on his back just barely and Richard nodded to him, signaling that he was just fine.

  Looking out, the two of them peered down at the steep drop down to jagged rocks below. The waves were relentless against them, if they survived the fall, it would still be a slim chance of survival.

  Rain, as predicted, dumped down as thunder cracked in the distance. To the left, jutting out from the wall, wooden planks that barely looked anchored to anything but being dug into the wall, led to the graveyard above.

  They look at each other, then back to the makeshift stairwell that was their only escape from the crypt.

  “Go slow.” Richard warned as he stepped onto one of the planks. It creaked and sagged downwards but, much to both their surprise, it held. Inch by inch, plank by plank, they crept up to solid ground with their backs to the wall and weight distributed on two planks at a time.

  Richard got up first, getting on his knees and turning to reach for Rodgers, hoisting him up from below so as to not risk any more steps. As the rain poured, they were soaked at this point and it took a while to get a good grip to get him up.

  As he struggled to get to flat ground, two shadows caught Rodgers’ eyes.

  “Duck!” Rodgers yelled as he yanked Richard down. With their momentum, Rodgers slipped down the wall, the plank giving way just as his foot touched it once again. It was then that Richard threw himself, grabbing Rodgers’ jacket with both hands before hoisting him up with all he could.

  Richard's revolver fell from him then, landing in a puddle as they crashed together on the ground.

  Behind them, one single shot rang out from Benito’s pistol and dug into the ground next to them. She was accompanied by Chance, a man with long dirty blonde hair and a deep seated hatred for most people and Rodgers knew they were both here for the book. They just waited around to not do any of the heavy lifting.

  “Go,” Richard scrambled to his feet then, putting his hand on Rodgers’ lower back to give him a push to run out ahead of him as they immediately broke out in a sprint. Richard picked up his gun from the puddle as they went, staying low to avoid another shot from the other duo.

  As they ran, the church bell boomed out high up in the tower to signal the turn of the hour. The two boys heaved heavy and sharp breaths as they ran. They were in a constant state of ducking to avoid the gun shots and flung themselves over headstones in an effort to lose them.

  Somewhere in the downpour, Rodgers had lost Richard. He figured it was best that the two of them split up, anyway, in an effort to get the two off their tail. Rodgers was far ahead, nearing the church gates when he fell. He had jumped but landed wrong and knew he had twisted his ankle. When he propped himself back up in an effort to keep going, a headstone exploded next to his ear.

  His head rang with the loud sound of stone exploding. It took him a moment to even get back to getting up, his entire body feeling like it was vibrating.

  Now limping, he was at least back on his feet as he tried to put distance between himself and Benito and Chance. As they got closer, he tried to push out a gust of flames from his palm but it wouldn’t catch with the rain pouring this hard. It died before it even left his palm.

  It was a shot that clipped his shoulder that made him stumble backwards, that hurt ankle giving out under the pressure as he fell once again to the floor. He rolled to his side in anguish, slapping his palm over the gushing wound as he scrunched up his face and bit his bottom lip to distract from the pain.

  His eyes looked over to his shoulder, his hand moving to lift up his coat as he saw the bullet had only just grazed him, but it was still deep enough where he needed to treat the wound.

  “Stay down, Rodgers!” Benito called to him as Chance reloaded and cocked an old looking golden pistol.

  Rodgers’ face was full of dirt from his fall, mud caked into his clothes and every single cranny of exposed skin at this point. He stumbled warily to his feet and heaved heavy pain-filled breaths.

  To his left side, the bell tower stood tall as it sounded once again.

  “I said stay down!” Benito yelled again as she watched him struggle to his feet.

  “Chance,” Rodgers whispered the other man’s name. “Don’t let her take this map. They’ll kill me—”

  “I hate you a whole lot more than I hate her,” he admitted, gun held high and aimed right at Rodgers. He saw no way out of this until his eyes scanned the sky above them, a plan forming slowly in his head. A stupid plan, as Richard would say, but still a plan.

  He moved fast as lightning struck, tossing his blade from his side with all his might towards Benito and Chance before he grabbed the heat from the lightning. He grit his teeth as he held on, redirecting it just enough before it attracted itself towards the blade.

  A shot from Chance’s golden gun sent the knife into the ground before lightning cracked it to pieces, sending all three to the floor in the intense explosion.

  His ears rang from the noise of the thunder and his leg had been bruised by a broken gravestone that was sent flying his way. He gasped in pain, holding his thigh tightly but he was thankful that there was no blood. He had enough of that from his shoulder.

  Eyes darted around, spotting Benito and Chance coming back to consciousness across the new crater in the ground. He used the stone next to him to get up, locking eyes with Richard hiding not too far off then, revolver out. Rodgers knew then, without having to say a word, he had to keep the attention on him just long enough for Richard to get a clear shot.

  Rodgers turned to face the duo with every bit of his body bruised or in need of a bandage. He was cornered, unable to run or use his flames, but he still stood his ground while removing his other blade out of his holster.

  “You idiot, Could’ve killed us all,” Benito grabbed her hat and slunk it onto her head as she rose to her feet from across the way. Rodgers noted then that they were in far better condition than he was, but then again that didn’t take much to be true.

  Rodgers heard a click from behind him as they stood in their stand off but no gunshot, the revolver had gotten too wet to function. There went that plan and possibly any chance that they were making it out of here unscathed. Rodgers closed his eyes and tried to mentally prepare himself, saying his final goodbyes silently then to himself. At least Richard wasn’t spotted, at least Richard could get far away from here.

  “The council already chose his fate, shoot him in the head now that it’s not against the code.” Benito ordered, “I’d rather take that book off his cold body than have him hand it over.”

  Chance wasn’t much of a talker, so Rodgers took him raising his gun as obedience to her command. He shut his eyes again, ready for the worst as he saw no way out of this. It wasn’t like he could run with his leg, he could barely stand there.

  “No!” It was a call from Rodgers’ right that threw him off guard. He turned his head and, in a split second, Richard ducked low, hitting Rodgers’ torso and pushing both of them over as a shot rang out in the distance. The two men fell to the floor with a crack, Rodger’s head hitting the ground hard. He saw stars, his consciousness fading in and out as he gasped in pain from both the fall and the rest of his body.

  Benito and Chance now seemed, from what he could comprehend, to be rushing. Their hands rummaged his body for the book while he was unable to do much of anything. His blurry vision watched them sprint away with their heads low before he gave in and closed his eyes.

  He wasn’t sure how long he had been out for, but waking up, Rodgers' head pounded as he regained his vision enough to look around. He coughed once as he moved, a trickle of blood running down his face giving him enough information to know he wasn’t down for long. His ribs had landed on a rock hard enough to bruise them and his head had hit one of the shattered gravestone shards, hence the blood. Slowly, with hands planted firmly on the grass, he sat up and looked for his Richard.

  There, right next to him and drowned face down in a puddle of his own blood, laid Richard.

  At first, it’s almost like he didn’t believe what he was seeing. His breaths were shallow, like they wanted to slow down this reality, like the rest of his breath could pass on to Richard and undo what had been done.

  “No,” Rodgers croaked out as he crawled over to the lifeless body. He desperately picked up his friend’s head, pushing the brains and what was left of his brow bone back into his eye socket.

  “Come back,” he whispered. “I finally just got to have you.” He wiped some of the brains off of Richard’s forehead, brushing his hair out of his face. “What about partying until you’re eighty?”

  With a heave, he pushed Richard onto his back. His hands now soaked with the blood of the only person that knew everything about him. How he liked his coffee, how he couldn’t stand the taste of liquor, his hobbies, his dreams; the one person that he opened up to with everything and anything, was gone.

  “Get up,” He begged and shook him once, gripping his shoulders tightly as a hint of anger passed through him. “Please get back up, say something stupid.”

  His breath caught up to him then, sucking in a large gasp before the tears came. Hunching over in a broken heart, he hugged what was left of Richard, as if it would reverse what had happened. He protected the shattered head of his love, because that was undoubted what he was even if he never got to say it, like he would give his own body to reverse what had been done to him.

  He didn’t even register his own scream as he sat there alone in the graveyard, the rain letting up bit by bit around them as if it was making way for Richard’s soul to leave him.

  Eventually, Rodgers moved to the side and tucked himself next to him, curling up like they hadn’t been robbed of their friendship. He took a deep breath, smelling a mixture of Richard and iron from the river of blood. He didn’t care about staining his clothes, he didn’t care about the mud on him. He just wanted to lay with him. One last time.

  Their days of putting up with each other, ten years and one day, had seemingly come to an end in a mere moment of bad luck.

  One month Later, Honolulu

  “Are you sure you want to leave?” The old man standing before Rodgers at the airport drop off searched his face for any sign of doubt, but he found none of it.

  Rodgers shifted the weight of his backpack as the man stared at him. His usual red hoodie hung loosely over his now thinner frame, having been refusing to eat despite the pleas. He didn’t talk much, he didn’t do much of anything. In his mind, there wasn’t much to do anymore. Not without him.

  He was mostly swallowed up by the jean jacket he now wore everywhere. The fabric still carried faint traces of Richard’s scent, even though time had passed. If he closed his eyes and laid still enough, the jacket was almost as if he was there again, but it just wasn’t enough. It never would be.

  Rodgers’ eyes were red and swollen, the kind of puffy that only comes from nights spent crying until exhaustion sends you to sleep. Only the sleep wasn’t good, he had to relive that day, that single moment in time, every single night. It had become his new normal.

  “I don’t know how to be here without him,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I’m no help to anyone like this, Reeva, and the council wants me gone. Benito brought the book, not me, and my companion is dead so I can’t be sent into the field again.”

  Reeva, the old man, reached up, his hand finding his cheek before he wrapped him into a hug that wasn’t returned. He, too, had those signature swollen eyes but there was just nothing to be done.

  “Take care of yourself,” He whispered. “And come home soon.”

  For a moment, Rodgers closed his eyes, letting himself feel the warmth of their hug. Deep down, he knew he had no plans of coming back. He would find his family, lose himself in routine, maybe even learn how to live without the constant presence of the person he had built his life with for the past ten years. He would swallow any hopes and dreams they put together and he would find a way to give up the life he now craved more than anything.

  . Reeva gripped the back of Rodgers head as he pressed his lips to the top of his hairline, like a father that was desperate to undo the hurt his son had endured. When they finally pulled apart, Rodgers turned without another word and disappeared into the crowd of hurried travelers. He didn’t want this goodbye to stop him from leaving and he could feel the old man watching him as he walked away. If there was one person he would stay for, it would’ve been him and he just could not let that happen. He couldn’t stay where the ghost of Richard was around every corner.

  Security was a blur of nothing. He had nothing worth checking, nothing worth losing. As he reached the other side, he stuffed his hands into the deep pockets of the old jean jacket to find some way to keep him from picking at his fingernails.

  In an effort to keep fidgeting somehow, his fingers found the smaller holder inside the pocket then and flicked it over and over until he brushed against a stiff edge.

  He pulled it out, slowly as he looked down to the business card from Richard’s birthday. He smoothed the card in his hand, flipping it over to read the print:

  Tear to make your wildest desires a reality.

  “So stupid,” He whispered to himself, the card hovering between his fingers as he glanced around at the bustling airport.

  The weight of his grief was too much to carry, pulling him down and crushing his chest. If there was a way to escape the pain, if there was a way to even just dull it, he wanted to try. Without letting himself talk his way out of it, he tore the card in half and a door appeared to his left, shimmering into reality.

  He looked over first without moving his head, swallowed before steading his breath. He turned, reaching out and tugging the door open before stepping through into the shoppe of the first time.

  Inside, Sethrin was waiting at the counter for him like an old friend.

  “This thing you made,” Rodgers held up one half of the card, “I’ll take one.”

  Sethrin didn’t ask why, just silently reached down and grabbed a premade bottle before placing it gently on the counter.

  “Try it in the store,” he instructed. “Make sure there’s no side effects.”

  Rodgers tilted the vial to his lips, paused for a moment, then continued before the liquid slid down his throat. When nothing happened, he tossed a few bills onto the table and pushed his way through the front door without so much as a thank you.

  “Conartist,” He grumbled to himself as he made his way out of the shoppe. He tugged open the door again, stepping through in a hurry before he came to an abrupt stop.

  Richard, or at least a ghost of him, stood a few feet away from the shop door.

  His one working eye was filled with something Rodgers hadn’t really seen on him before, but he knew what it was. It was disappointment, maybe even a hint of sadness. Like he knew of all the pain that the next years would bring his love; because that’s what he was.

  One Year Later, New York City

  The stranger before Rodgers carefully counted out each dollar bill, the soft rustle of paper blending with the low hum of the buzzing of the motel lights. The stranger laid each bill onto the chipped wooden dresser carefully, his hands trembling slightly like this was his first time. Yelling could be heard on the other side of the wall, from the other motel room, but Rodgers couldn’t find it in himself to care.

  “Leave it there,” Rodgers said, his voice rough from too many sleepless nights yelling at a bartender for a drink. He took a long swig from his half-empty bottle, the brew from the wizard burning down his throat and settling like a stone in his hollow stomach.

  “Sit,” he added, gesturing vaguely toward the edge of the bed. The other man hesitated for a second before perching on the corner, his movements stiff and uncertain, but still excited.

  Rodgers leaned back against the dresser. He looked thinner than he had in months; cheeks hollow, skin pale, eyes dull and sunken, and his hair clung stiff to his forehead. He took another swig, the brew tingling its way up to his brain and numbing the edges of his mind. He closed his eyes, letting the warmth creep through his entire body.

  When his eyes blinked back open, the room had shifted into his wildest desires. Before him, the man on the bed wasn’t a stranger at all. He was Richard, waiting there with the wide smile and bright eyes that Rodgers had longed to see again. He couldn’t help but allow a smile to spread on his own face. This was the only time it could, anyhow.

  He was too far gone to stop the trick his mind was playing, nor did he want to. He searched these nights out like a moth to a flame, desperate to feel his touch on him again even if he knew it wasn’t really him. He walked towards the man after tossing the bottle, knowing this wouldn’t be the same as that night in Croatia but he was still going to try to relive it through a stranger and a brew. It was the only way to live with himself.

  Present day, Zease

  Rodgers’ eyes flicked open silently. It had been so long since he had that nightmare that replayed the worst day of his life. It was the first time he had a dream, in general, in a while. Fingertips picked at the sleeve of the oversized jean jacket as he curled up on the hard concrete floor, forgetting the past couple of days completely as he just believed he was hungover and on the floor of his apartment.

  He felt like he was hit by a truck, it had to have been the worst hangover he’d ever experienced.

  Vomit wanted to come up but he rolled to his side and propped himself off the floor, covering his mouth with his free fist. Once he gathered himself, once he was sure he wasn’t going to vomit, he allowed his eyes to wander and his body to sit up a little straighter.

  He could tell he was underground in some cell and he closed his eyes at remembering what had happened before everything went dark. The dirt stuck to his face from when he had been laying down and he reached up to give it a soft wipe with the jean sleeve.

  Fear trickled into him as he realized the gravity of his situation; he did not want to end up in that arena. Rodgers sat the rest way up facing the back wall as he tried to crack his back from where it hurt from being tossed unconscious into this cell.

  “Good morning, sleeping beauty,” a voice came from behind him and Rodgers whipped his head around before having to hold it in pain. He shuffled his body slowly to face the voice, having to hold in a whimper before locking eyes with Charlie.

  Those large brown eyes stayed linked with those narrow light ones in silence; in disappointment.

  Rodgers looked closely at him in the dim and flickering light, checking foremost if he was okay. His jaw was cut, his fists bruised and stained in someone else’s blood, but, worst of all, Rodgers noted the puffy eyes. He knew that kind of cry well.

  Before him didn’t sit the man he once knew, the brother he once knew. There were hints of him, sure, but when he was released down from that arena Rodgers could tell something had died with those two people. Maybe, just maybe, he would stop being such a prick all the time because of it.

  “Though, I’m not sure sleeping beauty was a drunken fuck up.” There crushed any dream Rodgers had of having him be more tolerable. Though, he could tell he was angry and it was almost like Rodgers could tell it wasn't fully directed at him. Or, at least, that’s what he hoped.

  “It’s not what it looks like,” but how many times had Charlie heard that one? Rodgers felt a ping of guilt, but not for getting caught this time. Which was new for him.

  His mind went to Brenner; he just made everything a lot harder for him.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” Charlie scolded as he stayed seated against the back wall of his own cell across the way.

  “I’m rescuing you.” Rodgers sighed, still holding his pounding head while a tense silence filled the air for a while. Rodgers could tell he said the wrong thing but he wasn’t very coherent at the current moment, so he didn’t fault himself too much.

  “How’s that working out for you?” Charlie finally spoke, his voice laced with judgement.

  Rodgers narrowed his eyes before he turned and put his back on the bars, crossing his arms.

  “Not great.”

  “Yeah, well,” Charlie snorted an angry short laugh. “I could’ve told you that.”

  Sorry