Upon leaving the dingy washroom's quiet respite, Sylvain was quickly reminded of his grim present. Faded, worn band posters covered the holes and tears in the smoker beige wallpaper. The ancient wooden floor loudly protested at the smallest step on its planks. None of the light fixtures, plumbing, or appliances had been updated in at least three and a half decades, so it was a coin flip if anything in the home functioned properly, if at all.
"Hey, took ya long enough!" Aldin lightheartedly teased. The lizard man laid on their worn, tacky couch, his clawed fingers tapping away at his phone. Even in the apartment's drab lighting, his multicolored scales and long, yellowed horns noticeably glimmered. Unfortunately, Aldin’s choice not to wear a shirt meant his teal tendoned innards shone prominently out of the gaping hole in his gut. Of all the repugnant traits and behaviors that made up his Dagon-spawn companion, Sylvain found this part of him most vile.
The vampire ignored his roommate and entered the unwholesome kitchen. He nervously paused at their bright orange fridge, a noticeably newer item compared to the apartment's other accommodations. In one foul swoop, he opened the door, grabbed his breakfast, a single beer, then shut the fridge with a loud slam. Thank the cosmos, it was inactive for the day. Sylvain made his way to their stripped sofa as he popped the bottle cap off his drink. Aldin immediately shifted up against the couch's arm while hanging his scaly right leg and tail off the side. The pale ghoul sat in his typical spot, smashed into a crude cast of his frame due to repeated use, and took a swig. "So, what the hell did you feel the need to bother me about?" he inquired.
"Ah, right, one sec!" After a bit of rapid poking and clicking, Aldin showed off the screen of his phone. The multiple small cracks and large bandage plastered on the front heavily obscured its display. Sylvain never understood how the lizard managed to use that piece of junk for anything. "Kent texted me this mornin' about another lead he found in his paper stash. Said he needs more time to look into it, but it seemed promisin'," Aldin explained.
Sylvain scowled with doubt at the news. Kent was a burglar whom Aldin paid to garner the city of Pythonel's long forgotten secrets. While the maggot sack had access to good resources, the bloodsucker was still dubious of his intentions. "You honestly think that worm can still help? He's been feeding you that same line for months, and he hasn't dug up much of shit."
"Now c'mon that ain't fair! He's helped us plenty to get cozy with the holders, hasn't he?" Aldin countered vehemently. "Kent's a bit slow, I'll admit that, but he gets results. I wouldn't be botherin' with him if he didn't."
"Fine, maybe he's not totally useless, but I still think relying so heavily on one guy could come back to bite us in the ass," Sylvain argued.
"Well we ain't got much choice mate. Most blokes in town think what you wanna do is gonna get you killed," Aldin replied with a shrug.
"What really pisses me off is that I know the brainlets in this shithole want it as much as I do." The vampire's words dripped with condescending vitriol, like the noxious saliva of a rabid dog. "They're just too scared to actually get up and help themselves."
"Maybe you're right, but you ain't gonna win many more buddies with that attitude," the lizard offered. He sat himself up, got on his filthy, taloned feet, then grabbed a slightly musty Grunts and Hoses shirt off the floor. "I'm gonna head out and try muggin' the mongrels at the park," Aldin explained as he dressed himself.
"Alright. Just don't get caught, we don't have money to piss away on bailing you out," Sylvain warned.
"Yeah yeah I'll be careful. Stay safe, cunt!" The miasmic gatorman gave his roommate a wave goodbye before exiting. Left alone with silence and his cheap pork chop, the vampire took his time finishing his drink. He looked around the poorly maintained abode, often left a mess due to his and Aldin's absence most days. Sylvain thanked the horrid thing which brought him into this world that his brothers were not here. If they saw the pitiful conditions he was forced to live in, they would brutally kick him while he was down. Well, those degenerates frequently battered him no matter the situation, seeing as he was the runt, but that was besides the point.
Sylvain eventually rose with a stretch, and tossed the empty bottle into a trash can across the room. He then made his way to his own quarters, eager to plan out his day of calculated bloodshed.
