DECLAN
He pulls on his cigarette, temper receding, and raises disappointed brows up to Sunjata. If that was the truth, if he really had no idea where to begin, then this was going to put a huge damper on things. Declan could already feel apprehension raising the hairs on the back of his neck. The building was probably being watched right now, so.. if they'd seen him, they'd know to target him as one of Sunjata's allies.
This is why everything's a trap. This is why Declan doesn't get involved in shit that ain't got to do with him, but, now he's made it so that it does got to do with him. What's next, then? His gaze drifts to the side, as if an idea is forming. Yet, all his mind can come up with is static, beginnings of ideas but none that are concrete or helpful. He's really not sure, and that's making this feeling of dread worse.
The proverbial ball is in Sunjata's court, but the problem is the court's empty. No shot to take.
"If y're gonna keep this quiet, y're gonna need to be real fuckin' smart from this point on. Ya need a plan," his gaze is on Sunjata, expectant, pressuring. Because the last thing he should be doing is... "fallin' apart, that can wait. Whatever this is, it's not over. You know it, I know it, and whoever they are knows it. Can't jus' take it lyin' down, Sunjata... y' need to make a move."
Declan snatches up the rag and plops it into the soapy bucket, wringing it out until the liquid runs mostly clear. The floor and the wall aren't exactly caked anymore but, blood is fucking stubborn. He gets back to it.
This is why everything's a trap. This is why Declan doesn't get involved in shit that ain't got to do with him, but, now he's made it so that it does got to do with him. What's next, then? His gaze drifts to the side, as if an idea is forming. Yet, all his mind can come up with is static, beginnings of ideas but none that are concrete or helpful. He's really not sure, and that's making this feeling of dread worse.
The proverbial ball is in Sunjata's court, but the problem is the court's empty. No shot to take.
"If y're gonna keep this quiet, y're gonna need to be real fuckin' smart from this point on. Ya need a plan," his gaze is on Sunjata, expectant, pressuring. Because the last thing he should be doing is... "fallin' apart, that can wait. Whatever this is, it's not over. You know it, I know it, and whoever they are knows it. Can't jus' take it lyin' down, Sunjata... y' need to make a move."
Declan snatches up the rag and plops it into the soapy bucket, wringing it out until the liquid runs mostly clear. The floor and the wall aren't exactly caked anymore but, blood is fucking stubborn. He gets back to it.
I'm not always good.
