The bartender goes about work, helping to get the debris cleaned up and for things to start getting put back together so they can actually get closer to opening up again. Blue eyes drift over once more to catch the curious look on the detective’s face and as he looks away, Charlie can’t help but for a smile to cross his features. He’s not worried about the consequences on if someone’s listening too close to their conversation, the actor always showing to be a genuine charmer whether he’s talking to man or woman.
"Of course," he follows up with a nod, placing the broom aside and turning more towards the lawman. "I want this gang war to be over as badly as you badges do. If not more." Briefly there’s a certain gleam in his eye but it’s gone in the next blink.
The offer of a drink and a quiet place for talk where no one can hear them makes Charlie smirk, biting at the side of his lip in interest. He eyes up the detective as if he’s a wildcat eyeing up his prey. After Grace, men are so much easier for Charlie to warm up to. “Not much of a drinker but I can give you some things to ponder on. I have a few more little things to do around here and then I’ll see you there.” The wink has the bartender staring in the man’s direction, even as he departs. Part of him wants to leave then, to be alone with the man sooner, but the actor in him figures it’d be best to let the detective sweat a little before making an appearance. He can’t appear to be too eager after all.
Well hell.
Silas can't help feeling like he's caught in his skin the whole walk back to his place. It seemed he called it right. The other man seemed more than pliant in coming over for drinks. If it turned out to be more than that, well, all the better for the pair of them. Point was he was being careful about the whole damn situation for his own sake as much as his reputation as well. Wouldn’t do if word got out that a copper was a sodomizer. It would put a shadow of doubt over the past cases he’d overseen. Still, Silas knows he was careful, the wording was plain enough that it was two men having a drink and discussing a case in privacy where no one could have the chance to overhear.
But he had that distinct feeling he wasn’t wrong. Hell, the other man had practically devoured him where he stood with eyesight alone. A cold chill of excitement licks up his spine as the steps are taken two at a time up to his flat. It’s a shithole but at least it’s cozy, warm, and it’s all his own. Shrugging off his jacket and hanging it alongside his hat by the door as the lock clicks behind himself. Easy enough to roll up his sleeves, run a hand through his hair, and drop into a chair. Just the perfect picture of relaxing. Only Silas is still thinking, piecing together the blast the way he remembered it while in the thick of it. Ears ringing he’d made out muffled names, sounded a lot like those of the young boys they’d found strung up a while back.
Rising to his feet, he strides across the room to get two glasses. Silas doesn’t pour the whiskey. Not yet. Instead he glances at the timepiece at his vest and gives a low hum. A cigarette calms his nerves and the match, once used, is shaken until it's dead. An exhale of smoke and one last glance at his watch. Any time now.
