There’s something ironic about having Sokol be the one to find him and now tend to his injuries, in such a fucked up situation that Eddy doesn’t even get to tell him how he’s glad to see him after all this time. In other circumstances he might have been smitten by the white knight imagery that his friend portrays so artfully. Now Sokol is part of Eddy’s second capture and though it doesn’t feel as hostile as the Mexican gang, yet, it feels like a cruel coincidence. The shot Sokol administers works quickly to help him feel alive and attentive again. He looks at Sokol from beneath his tired lids, taking in his focused look, the way his bright eyes move between every little cut and the bandages he handles, but never meets his eyes. Eddy clears his throat subtly to try to make his voice less scratchy, and looks down at his feet when he utters a quiet, “thanks.”
Sokol doesn’t say anything to his crew members about knowing him, not even as a vague acquaintance, which Eddy takes as him thinking it is too dangerous to let anyone know they’re affiliated. Either that, or he’s embarrassed.
The absence of any of his gang members, even the group he typically rolled with, had to mean that they had gotten orders from the Boss not to intervene. Whatever the Boss thought he had done or had decided to use him as scapegoat for, it had to be bad. Eddy despises himself for the feeling of self-pity that forms in his gut. Then a warmth embraces him from behind his shoulders and he turns to look at Sokol before he can stop himself. A look of slight confusion but mostly of gratitude.
In the van Eddy stays quiet and shuts his eyes to preserve some energy, listening in on the conversation between the people acquainted with Sokol. They sound like they’re close with one another and they clearly understand each other’s habits and are even able to guess on their next actions. Sokol sounds happy among them, boisterous and lively in the way he speaks. Listening to him speak to the other crew members is comforting, like listening to him from another room while dozing off. Just out of reach but still with him. He nearly misses the fact that Sokol’s hand brushes against his and when he does he moves his fingers to return the light touch before Sokol pulls away.
With their arrival at the safehouse, a name he’d heard one of them call it, he takes the opportunity to study his surroundings. They’re already parked inside when he gets a chance to look around. He tries not to make it too obvious that he’s looking at the make-up of the building, when he’s introduced to an older man who seems to be some sort of leader of the crew. Eddy, who otherwise wasn’t in the mood to laugh, nearly did at being greeted like a guest when he probably looked like something the cat dragged in. “Fucking fantastic,” he mutters sarcastically.
The inside of the place was not unlike what you might expect from a safehouse, though there were peculiar and niche interiors here and there that Eddy couldn’t quite catch as they passed by. For some reason, as he scopes out what he can, he finds himself wondering if Sokol has a room somewhere nearby. The safehouse doesn’t look exactly … homely, not like the kind of place you would want to settle down in at least. He'd never asked about Sokol's living arrangements before. Since they had started as co-workers it had seemed unprofessional to talk about, which is kind of crazy considering how intimate they had ended up getting in other places.
The office that he’s led into doesn't look like an interrogation room or the home of a mastermind criminal. Besides remnants of what could be evidence of former plans, it looks like an office that should belong in a corporate building.
"That's very American of you," he retorts in response to the man's codename. He tries to hide the brief look of surprise that crosses his face at the mention of his boss' name. Of course his boss was a reputable man, but somehow Eddy hadn't expected to hear the name here. "Second in command?" He plays it like he's flattered to be considered that title, "I'm just a street thug, Mr. Dallas." It seems stupid to lie when he's in such a vulnerable spot, but Eddy has to test how much he can bullshit his way out of this before it turns painful. They can't say he doesn't look like a street thug with the multiple injuries now patched up by Sokol.
His lie doesn't seem to convince this Dallas guy, though, who reveals that he never needed him to confirm who he was to know the truth. The man must have the wits similar to Eddy's boss. Always knowing more than you think he does. "Okay," he relents with a shrug. "Maybe I am Don's boy," he says proudly of the otherwise degrading nickname. Though, that pride doesn't have such a strong effect when everyone in the room knows that he'd been left for dead. Eddy goes on, though, as if he wasn't fazed. "So what?"
Eddy leans forward, dark circled eyes staring viciously at the older man through the hair fallen into his face and pulls a forced smile. "You looking to take over the organisation, smart guy?" He weaves the lie with the truth that has been revealed, making it seem like he had indeed been held captive in order to get information out of him, but that the information the Mexicans had wanted was simply about the gang itself. Neglecting to reveal anything about the heist scoop of the year that his Boss had told him about a week ago. "Why don't you just let me go and save us all some time?" He is not so naive to believe they would let him go, but he doesn't really want to ask for a merciful death with Sokol sitting there. "You think I endured the Mexicans just to come here and bend over for you? Aw."
