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@masterminding-my-manners replied to your post: Dallas buddy when you said you needed a medic bag...
“It was a mighty need, Hox!”
@masterminding-my-manners continued from here.
Lovely. Just lovely. He had snapped when it first happened, but John didn’t jerk away from the other man. He only spread his legs to give him room, should he need to do it right away again.
He glanced at the heister to his left, and calmly asked for two bottles of water and the only container they had at the ready; an empty loot bag. Chains handing them over immediately.
Wick set the bottles to his side for a moment, grimacing at the mess in his lap before putting a hand to the Mastermind’s shoulder and tapping the open bag to his hands. “Here, if you feel sick again, please use this instead.”
He was actually fairly concerned about the man, as he didn’t notice any signs of him being sick before they got in the van.
Once the bag left his grasp, He set one of the bottles beside Dallas, taking a handkerchief from his back pocket and the other bottle.
The Hitman got to work, cleaning the lap of his pants.
@masterminding-my-manners continued from here.
Jackson had found one of them. And better yet, it was the american flag wearing leader. This mother fucker was long due for some pain, after the first time he got shot through the skull trying to get at him to stop him. He had a personal vendetta against this one.
He moved in cautiously, but quickly.
The others didn’t seem to be around to stop him this time.. Once he saw Dallas look up slightly and begin to turn, he struck. The Cloaker slid in, and instead of a flying kick, he stabbed the Mastermind in the back of the left leg. Once he started going down, he took the opportunity to kick the injured leg, pausing for a second with his foot on it when he heard the snap. After the start of the scream, he reached down and slammed his hand over Dallas’ mouth. “I’m gonna let you in on a secret.. ‘Buddy’.. you’re coming with me. Do we have an agreement, or am I gonna have to get mean?”
“ my, my. hmm. look how big you’ve gotten.”
He leaned back from the desk he was at, looking down at his stomach. “Yeah, yeah.. I know I’m getting fat.” He patted his stomach, then shrugged. “I’ve been sitting here doing nothing but telling you guys what to do and watching cameras for a while… What d’ya want from me?” He chuckled at the end of his statement.
| cont. from ✗ | @masterminding-my-manners
That wasn’t quite what Jimmy was expecting Dallas to answer with, but now that he thought about it the other man was looking rather under the weather. “Right, yeah, sure. Be right back. Try not to throw up all over the plans.”
It took him a few moments to rummage around and find everything. Once he did however, he headed back upstairs to Dallas as fast as his legs would allow him. Almost sliding back into the room, he placed the bucket by the older man and tossed the bottle of pills at him. “There y’go. That’ll hopefully fix you up in no time,” he smiled and looked at the plans, relieved to see that they weren’t ruined. “So, what’re you workin’ on?”
@masterminding-my-manners cont. from here
That had stunned him for a second.
He had no idea what the man was talking about until he’d turned around and looked at the state he was in; smelling the drink. Ah. Hox was drunk, was he?
“Hox.. I refuse to talk to you about relationships until you can think clearly.”
After turning back to his desk and grabbing a glass, he turned back to face the Fugitive.
“Listen.. you need to drink some water or something..You want some?”
Hoxton was never known for having a filter even when completely sober. He said what he wanted without the slightest of care. Believe it or not, there were actually some things he did refuse to say, only in protection of his own dignity. Personal things that truly bothered him. Those he kept quiet, but with his volatile mood swings and the tendency to bottle things up they occasionally slipped through. “No I don’t want no soddin’ water. Fish piss in it. Though another beer’d be good.” Another. How many he’d had already, only god knew. He’d lost count sometime after the 7th. If he had his way, he’d drink himself into oblivion. Despite the small distraction, he was quickly back to the original topic. “Hell, sometimes I wonder if yer even fam.”
☎
Send “☎” for a rushed text.
[text: Smooth Criminal]: nate buddy help a fella out please[text: Smooth Criminal]: I may have pissed your brother off and heohfuckheffoundmeasrkeckwv;ctre,lkrtr
@masterminding-my-manners cont. from here
Dallas fidgets with his sleeve looking the little thing over. “Duke, I’m not sure-”
After exhaling for a moment, he’d calmed himself to continue. “-Y’know what? sure. It’s fine.”
He couldn’t take leaving an animal out in the cold. He could fake it all he wanted but his conscience would get at him.
Duke was relieved to have Dallas’ permission, though it certainly wouldn’t have stopped him had he not allowed it. “Thank heavens. I’m not sure the poor thing would have survived out there on its own. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to find her some food.” With that, he handed the kitten over with little room to argue, and headed to the kitchen.
