@robbxr | cont.
They had a good laugh, stories and jokes shared, friendly drinks and glasses raised in celebration of another borough effortlessly conquered as he congratulates his Rooks ; the newest member he takes into high regard (even mentioning how he started as that filthy little pickpocket). A few more drinks and he left his men on their own drunken cheers, carelessly filling the cabin with the scent of alcohol and tobacco.
Jacob sits on his couch then felt the cushion beside him sink as if there was another person sitting –and there he was, Fillan the rookie (no pun intended) and he greets him with a chuckle & a little chat ensues, his breath just halted from an unexpected gesture. The assassin gasps as their lips met, his eyes filled with shock and confusion yet not a trace of disgust was present in his features as the other pulled back, oblivious to what his intentions were & ignoring his plea to forget what just happened.
❝ That — was NOT supposed to happen!, now was it? ❞
How dumb he felt —how childish? Halfway expecting a slap coming from the other one, Fillan darted further back on the sofa, pressing his back into the wooden slope, face still bright red and damp with sweat. He had nothing to say to defend himself, not even the alcohol to blame? They both knew the boy grew up on hard liquor, as they treated the poor of every age with cheap beer and cider, bitters even in the cold season.
“ ’course not—” Fillan shook his head, watching the man in front of him carefully. He placed his hands on his knees to hold them still. The urge to simply start running from his mentor was growling dangerously fast now. “ A— Ah’ dunno, man, if ya say —sorry or someth’n?! Just— that just didn’t happen, alright??! “
