Ira’s forehead stung. As he climbed to his feet, his finger poked at the stinging’s origin and he grimaced at the extra sting poking it brought him. When he then looked at his offending finger, he saw blood and grime on the tip. Blinking, he steadied himself by holding out his arms and falling a little, his legs finally steadying on the ground. Not more than a second later, a thin hand curled over his wrist and gripped him tightly. “Come on!” Minion Leader yelled, already pulling him along toward the car once more revving its engine.

Ira only stumbled for a few seconds before he got his feet under him properly and started to run, too. Reaching the car, Minion Leader threw the door open and held it open for him, ducking down as shots were fired their way. Cursing, Ira almost fell onto his seat, qcuikly scooting over so that his Minion Leader could follow him.

The door shut loud behind her, and she exhaled harshly. Instantly, the car was shooting off, rumbling below them and tossing them around as it took corners at breakneck speeds. “Everyone alright?” asked the driver, some old man that liked to sneak Ira treats when no-one was looking.

“We’re good, Chief,” Minion Leader confirmed, starting to comb through her hair with her fingers. Her nails were painted gold, Ira noted then. Sparkly and shiny, and they made him flex his own fingers to compare. His weren’t sparkling, he also noted. That was kind of a disappointment, hers were so very pretty.

“Want me to loan you some nail polish?” Minion Leader asked, and he when he looked up she was staring right at him, pale eyebrow crooked.

“Yes, please,” Ira confirmed, polite as anything.

She smiled at him. “I’ll come by to the bar, later,” she said, and he slumped back against his seat. Jostled by the car’s quick turns and head pounding from the sound of sirens following them, Ira closed his eyes and turned his hearing down, turned his sense of pain off. The world was not quiet, precisely, but everything was abruptly numbed. It was much, much easier to bear, like this.

And much, much lonelier.

… Not that that was a feeling Ira could even feel, of course.

Obviously.

Turning his head to the side and resting it on the uncomfortably stiff leather seat, he let himself fall into a half-dosing state, resting his thoughts. The sirens soon fell behind them, but the car didn’t start to slow for another several minutes. Finally, though, they turned into an alley. Ira didn’t move until he felt the car jostle once more as his minions filed out, and only emptiness surrounded him.

Opening his eyes, he grinned quietly to himself. He almost felt like whistling—his plan had worked. Ira had robbed a bank and gotten away with it while surrounded by leagues of cops. Granted, he wasn’t the one who had gotten them away, exactly, but it was his plans so it still counted.

Climbing out of the car, Ira dusted himself off and wandered over tot he other, smaller, car. His minions had already squeezed themselves inside and this time Ira climbed into the passenger seat. “Go,” he said to the the same old driver as earlier and the man nodded and they were quickly on the road again.

“No signs of pursuit,” Minion Leader said after while.

Ira hummed. “Circle around for a while more, just to be safe,” he ordered, his head leaning on the window. Eyes half-lidded, he stared at the city they drove through. It was old and filthy, and even inside the car he could smell the perpetual fog and smoke. There was a charm to it still, he supposed. A great reckoning of survival among so many things poisoning you, shattering you. In a way, he liked it.

“My best friend will arrive in a few hours,” Ira said as he recognized their final destination up ahead. He glanced back at Minion Leader, “You can pick them up at the train station, right?”

“Of course, sir,” Minion Leader nodded and tipped her hat at him. “We’re at your disposal,” she grinned wide.

Ira smiled back, slumping down again. Ren was coming in just a few hours, he reminded himself. They’d be staying with him and Angelo for a bit, until Angelo found secure housing for them. It would be better for that to be decided after Ren had met the various minions they could be living with, or to see if Ren wanted to keep living with Ira. Ira was not against living with both Angelo and Ren; in fact, that seemed like the perfect solution to him. But then, it wasn’t only his opinion that mattered in this.

At the stopping point, Ira was one of the first ones out. He gazed around viciously but could see no cops, even in disguise, and so he grabbed his cane and hobbled forwards. It was not their usual bar, not the one Angelo owned, but it was that was allied with them and that they occasionally visited. Their presence would not be remarked on as odd. And everyone in there would testify that they had been there the whole morning.

Crossing into the building, Ira hears his minions whisper amongst themselves behind him. He doesn’t pay it any mind, concentrates more on the dot signifying Angelo on his map. He follows it steadfastly through the building, his heart beginning to pick up speed for some surely stupid reason as he gets closer.

“Hello,” Ira said when he’s within hearing range.

Angelo, hunched over a table and tapping it on it, instantly looked right at Ira. The man glowed, then, lighting up from within as he smiled brightly and straightened. “Ira!” Angelo gestured to seat next to him and asked, “It went well?”

“Of course,” Ira haughtily said, sitting down. He held still as his fiancé kissed his cheek, breath hot on his skin for a second before the other man leaned back. “I’m a master at criminal activities,” Ira added after a needlessly large breath.

Angelo laughed softly, nudging his shoulder against Ira’s. “I know,” said Angelo and his voice was sweet and warm and gentle again. Ira gulped, grabbing the nearest glass and downing the liquid in one go. It burned his throat on the way down, but it was forgivable, he decided. He could live with that.

He looked at the man on the other side of the table, who was glaring at Ira. “What?” Ira asked, raising an eyebrow. He grabbed Angelo’s hand and felt his fiancé squeeze him back, and he slumped against his the booth’s backrest.

The stranger shook his head. “Nothing,” he mumbled mulishly, still glaring.

“Mitch, give it a rest,” Angelo said, rolling his eyes. He continued, “I understand that you don’t know Ira, but really, Ira would never hurt me. You don’t need to worry so much.”

“I’m not worried,” Mitch blatantly lied, grabbing his glass and drinking it in one big gulp. He glared at them again when he put the glass down, saying, “It’s just… I know you’ve been waiting a long time for Ira to return, and I’ve certainly heard more than enough about him, but how well do you really know him? It’s been years since you’re seen each other!”

“You talked about me?” Ira instantly zeroed in on the most important point.

“Are you kidding?” Mitch scoffed, shaking his head. “I know way more about you than I want to—he’s been talking nonstop about you for years.”

Ira’s lips trembled for the briefest second before he regained control. His grip on Angelo’s hand squeezed again, and then he tossed his head and said, “Good. I’m fucking awesome, he should be talking about me.”

“And arrogant, too,” Mitch muttered.

Grinning, Ira confirmed, “And arrogant, too.”

Angelo laughed, not even bothering to hide it. He waved at a waiter and a new glass of alcohol was soon placed before him. While Angelo fingered the glass, sending the colorful liquid inside sloshing around, Ira vaguely felt Angelo and Mitch kick each other’s legs under the table. He didn’t keep his amusement inside at all, laughing wildly instead and Mitch finally scoffed super loudly and stood. “I’ll see you in the meeting,” Mitch said, stalking away with an annoyed frown.

Angelo laughed softly, amusement swimming through his blood. Ira’s stared at that expression for a startlingly long moment, and he pecked Angelo on the cheek. Quickly, then he leaned back again and pretended it never happened. When Angelo gazed at him, wide-eyed, Ira merely whistled.

Ira could not whistle.

Angelo huffed, then burst into giggles. He leaned his head on Ira’s shoulder, slouching down on his seat to make it anatomically possible, and closed his eyes. Ira stayed still, allowed his fiancé this freedom, because he didn’t really see a reason not to. And Angelo was warm against him, soft and soul bright.

Ira grabbed Angelo’s heavy glass and sipped the foul-tasting alcohol. It didn’t do anything for him, but he enjoyed the excuse for staying put in this position.

When the glass was empty, Ira checked his pocket watch for the time, frowning a little. Restlessness was starting to course through him and so he gently jostled his shoulder. Angelo groaned, but sat up straight. Watching the imprint of his clothes on Angelo’s cheek, Ira couldn’t stop himself from poking. Angelo hissed softly at him, batting gently at him, but allowed Ira’s poking to continue.

“Ren will be here soon,” Ira remarked some time later, after he’d gotten the poking out of his system. Angelo sat a fee centimeters away from him now, pouting into his foul drink.

“Gloria picking her up?”

“…Minion Leader, yes.”

Angelo rose an eyebrow. “You mean Gloria.”

Ira nodded. He smiled, “She’s going to paint my nails later.” He could already picture how pretty his nails would be when they were done, sparkly and shiny. He flexed his hands in anticipation, eyeing his slightly long nails. They just looked like normal human nails at the moment—in other words, boring.

Dull.

He wanted sparkles.

“Have fun, then,” Angelo grinned and then weakly kicked Ira’s foot. “Now scoot, I’ve got a meeting.”

“About the bank robbery?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact.” Angelo straightened out as Ira did as asked and scooted until he could stand and leave the booth. Angelo followed him out, dusting off his suit jacket. It sat perfectly tailored to his body, the lines clear and crisp. It made him look elegant when he stood, his slicked back, black hair only enchanting the image. The light from the overheard lamps was soft, fluttering slightly as shadows moved through it in the form of flies.

Ira took pictures, making sure the images were safely stored in his databanks. He liked this look, too. Angelo was very handsome like this.

Whatever “handsome” meant.

“Goodbye,” said Ira. He waved at Angelo, Angelo blowing him a kiss before the man left. Once he was alone (well, there were still other people in the bar so he wasn’t completely alone, but still), Ira sat back down at the booth. Mere seconds later, the waiter reappeared. “Cake, please,” Ira said, lounging casually.

“Of course, sir,” the waiter confirmed, swishing away. They were already used to him here. His finger tapped on table as he waited, and he briefly contemplated checking up on his Host. Then he decided that he didn’t care and he didn’t want to see whatever bullshit she was embroiled in. He was perfectly happy without her in his life and he was even happier to stay that way.

Yeah. He wasn’t going to check on her.

Instead, he put on a movie and settled in for long haul. It wasn’t an old favorite of his, in fact he’d rather disliked it the last time he watched it. But for some reason, he was in the mood for the cheesy romcom at the moment. And once he got his cake and sparkling soda, life was perfect.