Jaemin watches his husband’s pace, his own mind reeling from the events of the past day. Accusations slung across the room at each other, several individuals detained for crimes no one can guarantee the committed. It’s not like they were the most righteous judges around, each gang’s proclivity for violence and crime inherent to its existence but…still. He leans against a window sill, watching Apollo’s annoyed movements, long limbs carrying him across the span of the small study they’ve found themselves in, in a matter of steps. “I don’t like this either.” Guilt sits heavy on his shoulders, Victoria’s name escaping his mouth before he could stop it. Logic taking over when he wishes it wouldn’t. He’d seen the way she looked at him after…the betrayal. He’s now failed two Pinketts, three if he counts Michaela and, really, he should count her. So he does and he feels his shoulders slump even further as he rakes a hand through jet-black hair.
“Fazal has been a good partner to you but we don’t know what’s going to happen. I don’t think it’ll do any good to punish them for something they have no proof of.” He says, in hopes of reassuring his husband. There was no proof besides the doubts and words of others which, admittedly, could always do more harm than good. He sighs, pushing off from his perch and meandering over to one of the bookshelves, pulling off a well-worn copy of The Count of Monte Cristo, thumbing through yellowed pages. “I think…I have to believe, they’ll be fine. Maybe their pride is wounded. Their trust even more so,” if not completely broken, “but if they did do what everyone suspects them of, then it would be smarter to get answers than to punish….right?” He looks over at Apollo, still pacing, restless as an animal in a cage. The tension rolling off his husband is one he’s familiar with, it’s the desire to act and react to a situation gone sideways. He doesn’t blame Lo but he doesn’t want him to make any rash decisions. “I don’t think any of them had a hand really,” he admits after a beat, “doesn’t seem like an inside job does it?”
“We’ve shot people for less than this.” Apollo pointed out, hating that he sounded worried. It wasn’t Fazal. He knew Fazal well enough and he knew it wasn’t Fazal. He didn’t like the places this could lead. There were only so many people he really tolerated and he didn’t want to lose one of them to this. Not with Michaela still missing.
At least no one had voted for Jae. People voting for him he could understand, but at least his husband’s loyalty and faithfulness never came to question.
Apollo turned on his heel and continued his pacing, knowing there was little he could do here in the Manor. They hadn’t even let him bring his 14 most favorite guns. Which, rude, but okay. Half of them he didn’t even have ammo for he just liked feeling like one of those John Wayne Western movie types. Do you feel lucky, punk?
“I don’t know. Either someone’s scouted us well enough to know our routines,” that set his teeth on edge, “Or there’s something bigger at play. It’s like there’s something lurking just out of sight, taunting us. Taunting all of us, for a change.”