DECLAN
Declan sheds the weight of the body with more ease than he has holding it, allowing the kid to slide into the drying pool of his own blood. Declan merely waits with icy calm - because one of them has to be calm in this. Sunjata seems to be faring well, at least, ruffled feathers perhaps smoothed by Declan's cool.
When Sunjata returns with the aforementioned items, Declan is quick to help lift the body into them. He grits his teeth with the effort but, it's done. He takes a minute to stare down at the sheets, at the face he doesn't recognize, and now it makes sense. It's becoming more and more evident that this is personal, a message meant only for Sunjata.
Keep it quiet.
Declan nods and pulls the material around the body, effectively hiding it within the blankets. They would have to look upon his face no longer. Not unless they made a point to. Declan's gaze lifted up to Sunjata's, a question in them he wasn't airing. Could he handle this?
It's one question Declan doesn't have a damn clue the answer for. Not an inkling. Information came and went, but.. knowing people and their merit, that was something he specifically avoided. There's one cold fact he was certain of; this wasn't over. Whatever this was.
"No one will miss him, then. That works in our favor," he trails off a bit, looking toward the pocket (with the letter in it) with a pointed furrow of his brows, "and whoever's done it."
At Sunjata's offer of dropping the body off in the ocean, Declan's already shaking his head before the sentence is finished. His resolve only grows when the man seems suddenly uncertain. "No, we'll clean the blood and the sand, and you'll leave the body to me." Declan says this with an eerily experienced implication, if that can be done. "Gathering information is not my only skill, brother," because if there's anything that makes you brothers, it's taking care of a body. "You can worry about the person that sent the message."
And Declan mills about toward the kitchenette, retrieving whatever cleaning supplies he can. Rags, soap, whatever works. He sets these things down and, before he will begin, he turns to Sunjata, "Ya gonna tell me what this is about?" and this isn't a demand, or a condition. He's simply wondering, which is obvious in the way he rolls his head on his neck and looks curiously toward Sunjata.
Then, without waiting too long, he tosses the other man a rag and begins cleaning up the stains that cake the wall and the floorboards.
When Sunjata returns with the aforementioned items, Declan is quick to help lift the body into them. He grits his teeth with the effort but, it's done. He takes a minute to stare down at the sheets, at the face he doesn't recognize, and now it makes sense. It's becoming more and more evident that this is personal, a message meant only for Sunjata.
Keep it quiet.
Declan nods and pulls the material around the body, effectively hiding it within the blankets. They would have to look upon his face no longer. Not unless they made a point to. Declan's gaze lifted up to Sunjata's, a question in them he wasn't airing. Could he handle this?
It's one question Declan doesn't have a damn clue the answer for. Not an inkling. Information came and went, but.. knowing people and their merit, that was something he specifically avoided. There's one cold fact he was certain of; this wasn't over. Whatever this was.
"No one will miss him, then. That works in our favor," he trails off a bit, looking toward the pocket (with the letter in it) with a pointed furrow of his brows, "and whoever's done it."
At Sunjata's offer of dropping the body off in the ocean, Declan's already shaking his head before the sentence is finished. His resolve only grows when the man seems suddenly uncertain. "No, we'll clean the blood and the sand, and you'll leave the body to me." Declan says this with an eerily experienced implication, if that can be done. "Gathering information is not my only skill, brother," because if there's anything that makes you brothers, it's taking care of a body. "You can worry about the person that sent the message."
And Declan mills about toward the kitchenette, retrieving whatever cleaning supplies he can. Rags, soap, whatever works. He sets these things down and, before he will begin, he turns to Sunjata, "Ya gonna tell me what this is about?" and this isn't a demand, or a condition. He's simply wondering, which is obvious in the way he rolls his head on his neck and looks curiously toward Sunjata.
Then, without waiting too long, he tosses the other man a rag and begins cleaning up the stains that cake the wall and the floorboards.
I'm not always good.
