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Ruckus: Ruckus is left to his own devices, if only for a short time, which means his pills are his own responsibility. That may not be the best of plans, as he tends to loose track of time, forget he's taken anything and redose when he see's fit, instead of recommended time inbetween. That said, he may be... a little on the impressionable side when Kellen gets home, laying face down the wrong way on the bed in just some snug boxers, because damnit he swears it was just hot in here a minute ago, trying to work the remote but drifting off every so often in the process. The door opening and closing prompts him to waking just enough to throw the closest thing - that being one of Leech's more adventurous shoes - and hitting the doorframe, before forgetting what alarmed him in the first place.

Kellen: Kellen has already moved to the side to dump his backpack in the usual place by the time that shoe hits the door frame, so he just turns his head to stare towards the door, not sure what made that sound, before spotting the shoe a little distance away and putting everything together. Then he turns his fuzzy head to look at the man on the bed, narrowing his thickly-lined eyes in blatant disapproval and speaking in a flat tone. "Ahh, I missed you too, cupcake." Toeing off his chucks and kicking them in the direction of his backpack, the kid makes his way to the bed, but not to sit down; he leans down to dig through the drawer on the bedside table, eventually unearthing a baggie of weed and rolling papers, after pushing past some more suggestive items that he just makes himself not see.

Ruckus: Ruckus watches the doorway for a second, as if also wondering where the hell a shoe came from, before catching sight of Kellen and losing the rigid stance from his place on the bed, foot that still contains a sock thumping against the headboard. "Mm. Doppleganger." He mutters into the bedspread, one visible eye watching Kellen's movements with the intrest of someone who would rather watch an apple brown in the sun.

Kellen: Finding the necessities, Kellen drops onto the side of the bed and starts preparing them, glancing at Ruckus briefly over a shoulder and appearing almost offensively unconcerned with having this reputedly murderous person at his back. Understandable, given Ruckus' current state. "Leech had stuff. He'll be back later."

Ruckus: The duo of prickly pairs that they are, Ruckus should be a little more concerned with Kellen being so close and knowing Leech isn't going to be coming home right away to be a thin, but useful buffer between them. But instead of leaving or making some kind of space between them, Ruckus rolls onto his side and then onto his back, trying to get comfortable but instead tossing the remote to thump Kellen in the back with it, "Make it go." He sighs, like he's asking the kid to get a car to start that he's been tinkering with all day to no avail.

Kellen: It doesn't hurt, but Kellen does straighten up, looking back again to find what he'd been thumped with. Spotting that remote, he snorts in a decidedly less friendly fashion that Leech usually does. Snatching up the remote, he pivots to lean back against the pillows and lights his joint to drag off of before deigning to reply. "Ask nice and mebbe I will." The kid gives Ruckus a shifty sideways look with his words, not as comfortably unconcerned in the guy's presence as he's trying to seem, but when he exhales that first hit a moment later, he does sink into the mattress more heavily. "What ya wanna watch, anyway? You got a cameo on COPS supposed to air or something?"

Ruckus: Ruckus stretches out, flexing what he's capable of without pain, tattoos and scars - old and new - shifting with still tan skin and seemingly unconcerned with being almost naked and that this would be an incredibley lewd sight to anyone watching. "S'il vous plait." He grunts, not even attempting the accent that should go along with it, as much of a formality as Kellen is going to get. He sinks back into the mattress after stretching, hand absently scratching over some of the stitches near his knee, "Don' commit my crimes topless an on meth..." He responds, watching upside-down as Kellen flips channels and seeming to pay half-attention once some program with dogs running aimlessly across a field comes on.

Kellen: Kellen rolls his head to the side, watching all that lewd squirming with a blatantly unimpressed expression, eventually snorting for the guy's courtesy and turning the TV on. As is his usual method, he switches channels quickly enough that none of the shows or ads have much time to make sense. "You look like shit." He'd seen Ruckus at the hospital, of course, but that was more sterile and fitting, and when they brought Ruckus back from the hospital, he was at least more clothed; this is the first time Kellen's had a chance to see the full extent of the wounds. Leech had listed them in detail, after that first night at the hospital when Duster had relieved him on watch so Kellen could drag his brother home to get some sleep, but seeing them is certainly different. Eyeing the wrapped shin that, according to Leech's account, has partially-shattered bone and lots of stitching beneath its bandaging, Kellen wrinkles his nose some at the reminder that it'll probably be some time before Ruckus is fit to go anywhere.

Ruckus: Ruckus is numb enough that he forgets the extent of his busted nature. He doesn't so much notice Kellen looking him over, taking in the damage, but eventually the eyes on him feel heavy and if he makes any sign of recognition, it's brief. Maybe it feels too much like Kellen is having feelings on him, which is about as enjoyable a thought as wearing wet denim. If he knew about Kellen's time with Duster, he'd have some humourous words for the kid, maybe taunting, as there is no chance thats going to manifest into anything. "What're you, again?"

Kellen: Done with his appraisal, Kellen goes back to smoking his joint and switching channels rapidly. He rolls his eyes for the question, thinking Ruckus probably means to demean him, but it's not working. "What am I? I'm healthy. I'm mobile - capable'a self-propelled movement, even. I'm not stitched together in twenty-seven different places. Which means I can have wild strenuous sex if I want, 'cuz I'm also really fucking cute and charming and personable. I'm almost high, 'cuz I wanna be, not 'cuz I gotta take a bunch of pills jus' to get through the day. What're you?" Finding something that looks like it might be entertaining, Kellen pauses his channel surfing for a few seconds to watch a coyote stalking an unsuspecting jack rabbit, but moves on soon enough.

Ruckus: Ruckus seems to have nodded out just a bit during that, apparently having found a comfortable position, but Kellen's tones snap him out of it about halfway through, "All that in such a little box? Impressive..." He's quiet for a moment, maybe in more lucid times he would point out that isn't it more impressive if he can live through all that stuff? But instead, he's glancing around curiously, as if Kellen is oblivious to some noise, "...'s no dogs in here, yeah?"

Kellen: "Isn't it?" Kellen sounds pretty enthusiastically pleased with himself, actually. After taking a final drag from that joint, he puts it out carefully, saving the rest for later. Momentarily thrown off by that question, he looks at Ruckus like he suspects the guy is setting him up for something. "Dogs? No. Brought the cat home but she's passed out in front of the heater vent in the kitchen. Why?"

Ruckus: Ruckus settles again, though still looks suspicous, "Dog sounds." He answers, though in reality it could have been a car parking outside, he's not really all there. Shaking his head agian, suddenlly content to go back to the previous question, he gestures vaugely with his hand, "No, no... what are ya? The smaller one? 's only half copied right?" He thinks maybe Leech has explained it to him before, that Kellen shares his dad, or something to that effect, but explinations from Leech are often confused in his head, especially now.

Kellen: After squinting suspiciously at Ruckus for another moment, he dismisses the dog thing in affront at the following questions. "I'm not the smaller one. I'm arready taller than he is." Not that it takes much to achieve that, and he's aware that isn't what Ruckus was talking about, anyway; he isn't any better pleased with the designation of 'half-copied', since it sounds so dismissive. "I'm Leech's brother. An' the one that's been holding him together while yer off playin' fucking Godfather or whatever the hell it is ya do that's so important you gotta leave him alone all the time."

Ruckus: Ruckus rolls his shoulders in a sort of shrug for that correction, doesn't really care what size they are, only that he doesn't end up paired up with the wrong one at some point. Would make for an awkward evening. He frowns at Kellen's hostility, because obviously they're just having a lovely chat, but obviously he's missed where he was out of line, "'s important." He says matter of factly, making grabbyhands at various surfaces until he turns up a cigarette, "Rape bears, trappin..."

Kellen: Squirming, Kellen slithers down the bed until his head is on the pillows, pausing in his channel-switching to look Ruckus over with marked disfavor. None of that strictly made sense, but he didn't entirely expect anything that came from this guy's mouth to make sense. "Important. An' Leech isn't?" He nearly starts in on what 'holding him together' consisted of, but decides against it, not sure Ruckus would even care particularly.

Ruckus: Kellen is eyeing him like something he'd like to kick off the bed, content to spend the rest of the night with Ruckus on the floor. Something he's not entirely opposed to, come to think of it. Ruckus probably doesn't want to hear the hold-together tactics, doesn't want to think of what Leech does when he's gone, who he sees or where he goes, and certainly doesn't want to hear it from this little bastard. "Ya don'... get things." He sighs, arms splayed out in annoyance, "'s all him."

Kellen: Still staring at Ruckus, Kellen loses his attention for channel changing, letting the remote drop onto the comforter near him. His expression changes instead, from confusion to suspicion and eventually to disgusted resignation, all of them colored with that same almost-hatred. Though he nearly speaks a few times, what eventually comes out is "Yer totally fucking with my high." So he rolls over, relighting the joint on the edge of the ashtray and taking a long drag with an air of making preparations for something, waiting until exhaling to speak again. "Arrite, explain it to me, how running away fer six months - an' only being around once a month before that anyway - amounts to it bein' 'all him'? I'm really not following."

Ruckus: Ruckus attempts to sit up, but this time he isn't stopped by strain on his multitudes of injuries, instead by disorientation alone. Waiting for the room to calm around him, he grabs a particularly fluffy pillow to prop himself up on. Kellen busies himself with the joint, Ruckus flopping a hand open on the bed next to him to use the lighter when it's free, despite the fact that it's the splinted fingers he's extending, "Did somethin', fer him, got me in some deep shit." He rolls his head to look at the ceiling, eyes drifting shut a bit, "I don' bring that shit ta him..."

Kellen: "The fuck does that mean, you did something for him? Pretty sure he'd rather ya not do a damn thing for him, an' be here, than ya do mysterious 'something' for him then disappear fer six months." He sounds almost sulky admitting that, like he doesn't accept that Leech is so attached to this guy. "An' it looks like ya brought that shit to him anyway, cuz here you are."

Ruckus: Ruckus frowns, seeming annoyed that Kellen can't follow his explanations, as they're so simple and easy, obviously. He rolls onto his side, struggling to get the remaining sock off with his other foot, but too clumsy to get it in one go. "'s got this rape bear, D told him off, first time, million years ago," he waves his hand again, as if to illustrate some kind of invisible timeline. "Got worse. Time happened, nothin, an then he's there an I'm there an then... he's not, anymore." He makes some little gun gesture with his hand, one eye squeezed shut as he stares at Kellen, as if daring him not to understand.

Kellen: Kellen listens to all of that while staring at the ceiling and smoking his joint, sure that it's going to require some deciphering, but that's actually - for Ruckus - concise and to the point. Blinking at the ceiling a couple times, he sits up suddenly and abruptly, turning to look at Ruckus with a scowl. "Leech was raped? An' you waited til now to kill the fucker? What the fuck is wrong with you!"

Ruckus: Ruckus is fairly relaxed, until Kellen startles him enough that he jumps and sort of just topples over the edge of the bed with a 'shit!', luckily landing on a discarded comforter that had been arranged before when he was attempting his old sleeping habits to no avail. He sees no reason to move now that he's down here, luckily stuffed to the gills with meds and only feeling the vague all-over ache that says he's going to feel terrible in a few hours. "No." He doesn't sound in pain, more annoyed that Kellen isn't more in the know, "Jus'... fuckin' creeper. Sneaky." He points upward for that, as if to help make his point, "an then, this." He gestures to his battered state.
Naturally, Kellen isn't the least bit concerned with Ruckus's fall from the bed; flipping over, he merely crawls to the edge of the bed to look down at the man, looking less angry and more baffled than ever. "So, some dude was all lecherous with our leecherous an' you...hunted him down, then he...shot you an' beat yer ass? Doesn't sound all that important." He watches Ruckus inquisitively, taking another hit off the joint.

Ruckus: Ruckus doesn't seem too concerned with it either, just sort of laying flat and looking up at nothing, though he does snort and chuckle rather unruckusly at the lecherous leecherous comment, easily amused at the moment, "Mm no, he's dead. 's... dead. Four guys... did this. He's in their secret club." Or the mob, whatever. "I off him, they get mad, an I wake up too busted fer D & Leech ta get pissed." At least, not right away to his face.

Kellen: Kellen can only stare for that information, and sure, he sort of assumed whatever Ruckus did while he was away was probably violent, and maybe Leech did hint at him killing someone once or twice, but the way he's so off-hand about it is still shocking enough for the kid's breathing to halt momentarily. When he can breathe again, he uses the skill to inhale harshly off the joint, killing the rest of it and setting it aside in the ashtray, rubbing at his face afterward. "...did ya happen to tell Leech that?"

Ruckus: Whatever Duster knew and had told Leech was the end of it, Ruckus hadn't been asked that he could remember, and had never brought it up on his own. The less Leech knew about his work, the better, but he's not entirely sure this counts as a business venture. Kellen is suspiciously quiet, but while he's frowning in the kid's general direction, that question comes from above, "He didn' ask, don' need ta know."

Kellen: "Ya don' think so? Pretty sure he'd want to know. Might be kinda reassuring that ya didn' fuck off fer half a year fer knocking off some bum that didn' matter to anyone." Though still unnerved by this new perspective on Ruckus, he can at least sound like it doesn't matter all that much. Since Ruckus seems okay down there on the floor, Kellen drops onto his belly on the bed, crossing his arms on the edge of it and resting his chin on them. "What'd this guy do to Leech then, if he didn' rape him?"

Ruckus: "Keep the bad from him, sometimes means the good, too." Kellen obviously doesn't understand these things, too young and not-Leech to really get the universe. "'s gonna think'a me what he thinks about me, doesn' matter." Fumbling around above him for one of the various bottles, he finally finds purchase with his fingers and pulls one down, struggling with the lid, "Came after the kid, all creeper..." The lid delt with, he swallows one down before continuing, "Dust saved him, first time, times after that were me." He still doesn't look at Kellen, not really speaking to him anyway, just talking outloud, "Leech never would'a left, not fer him. Weaselface..." He finishes on a mumble, distracted by looking at his own hand again.

Kellen: Kellen gives a derisive snort for that defense, but other than rolling his eyes, doesn't really protest it. Instead he listens intently to the rest of that, trying to make some sense of it. This takes some time, and more brainpower than his stoned mind is really capable of right now, but that last statement brings it together finally. "Ahhh, that guy. The guy who gave 'im the scar on his arm, right?" He remembers the scar, clean-healed and thin and mostly covered by tattoos, and the story that Leech told him about how it was acquired, and how the same Ivan had been mostly responsible for Leech leaving the warehouse a couple years later. Rolling onto his back, he stares at the ceiling and debates whether or not he should inform Leech of this, until another thought interferes. "So ya gunna kill the kid who stabbed him, too?"

Ruckus: Ruckus nods distractedly, remembering the delightful night full of rage and blood and stitches and crying, not one of their better evenings. Wiggling around a little more, he gropes about for a lighter again, as he's been hanging onto the same unlit cigarette for a while now and seems to be forgetting that. He growls for the reminder of the the shanking, rubbing at his face, "Prolly. Don' see why not. Pisses me off."

Kellen: "Yeh...pisses me off, too." Which is putting it pretty mildly, actually; if he hadn't already hated Ness for being a source of Leech's unhappiness by sleeping with his 'slave', the shanking would have ensured it. Unaware of Ruckus' smoking difficulties, he absently reaches over to find the pack of smokes he tossed on the bedside table and lights one. "Not sure Leech would be thrilled if ya killed him, though. He hates the guy, always has, but it is sorta his job on the line. Did he tell ya who did it?"

Ruckus: Ruckus' understanding of the details is vague at best, and while he doesn't want to know, it all still angers him, "I don' tell him everything, same goes fer him." It would help nothing, and everyone would be hurt and bitter. More than usual, anyway. Deep in warm fuzzy thoughts of revenge, Ruckus goes cloudy again, and by the time Kellen is asking about further plans, he's passed out again, lightly snoring in oblivion.

Leech/Kellen: Kellen wasn't too disappointed when Ruckus passed out; merely moving to the center of the bed, he finds some terrible horror movie on TV and smokes a bit more, nearly comatose himself by the time Leech returns from his 'stuff'. The parasite naturally comes straight to the bedroom, looking suspicious when only Kellen is apparent. "Where's Ruckus?" Kellen gestures silently at the opposite side of the bed, so Leech crawls over and peers down. "...did ya push him outta the bed?" Kellen gives a withering look and a snort. "'course not. I only do that ta people I love. He fell." Leech looks at Ruckus consideringly for a moment longer, then nods and settles back next to Kellen, starting to undo the straps on his boots.

Having lit another joint, Kellen offers it over to Leech once he's got his shoes off. "Did he tell you what he did? Why he was on the run fer so long?" Caught inhaling, Leech shakes his head but responds belatedly: "Jus' made assumptions." Kellen blinks at him lazily, questioning without opening his mouth what those assumptions were, and the parasite grins crookedly. "Murder most foul, as in the best it is. Why do ya ask?" Kellen snorts again for the quote, but shrugs. "Jus' curious, that's all."

Ruckus: Ruckus, blissfully unaware as he is and content to just hang out on the floor, decides to turn over in his sleep and land at just such a terrible angle on his still fragile shoulder, startling himself awake with the sensation of pain and a loud growl of 'fuck!'. It takes a while to figure out exactly where he is, drugs having worn off a good deal by now and leaving him with a good chunk of time unaccounted for. "Grave ain' deep enough!" He says gruffly from the floor, sandwiched between the bed and wall and indeed looking like he's about to be buried from his perspective.

Leech/Kellen: Leech might be about to respond to Kellen, but Ruckus' exclamation interrupts, and of course that requires immediate attention. Handing the pot back to Kellen, Leech rolls to the edge of the bed and drops off, absurdly graceful, to land near Ruckus, somehow fitting himself easily into the narrow space. "Then I guess ya oughta keep digging." Kellen, unconcerned, continues watching his movie.

Ruckus: His instincts to get up and right himself are quickly squashed by his own limitations, unmoving even as Leech lands like a cat at his side. Along with the usual pain of his injuries, there is a persistant headache - possibley from the lack of drugs after taking what was likely more than the recommened dosage the last time around. Instead of his own, he drag's Leech's arm across his face to block out the dim light from his eyes, "Hit bedrock."

Leech/Kellen: "Mmm." Leech allows his arm to be maneuvered, not paying much attention to it. "Ya need drugs? When's the last time ya took a dose?" Not that Leech cares much for strictly following the directions on the label. He searches visually before spotting the pill bottles on the bedside table. Somehow, he manages to reach them without moving his arm from Ruckus' eyes, but struggles with the childproof lid.

Ruckus: Ruckus mumbles in the affirmative, remaining limply in place while Leech maneuvers around him and offering nothing useful. Upon Leech settling close enough to him again, he reaches an arm around the tiny waist, pulling him to his side and bracing a hand to the side of his head to press their lips together, still blind due to arm, but apparently just feeling the need to release some sexual build up while not sedated.

Leech/Kellen: Still trying to find a way to open that bottle without moving his arm, he's a bit surprised by the sudden affection but doesn't hesitate to return it, retracting that arm to prop himself up on an elbow as he meets Ruckus' mouth, nipping quickly at his lower lip before working his tongue past it and giving an approving purr. Releasing the pill bottle, he instead curls those fingers around the side of Ruckus' neck, lightly stroking his thumb over the hinge of his jaw.

Ruckus: Everything hurts in it's own pronounced way, various levels of throbbing and ache, but the floating feeling in his head lends to a clumsy high, and in a lucid moment, he wants to make the best of it. A low moan drags from his throat like rust for the returned attention, grabbing at Leech's ass and pulling him flush against his hip, "Mm, wanna fuck?'

Leech/Kellen: Leaning away, Leech replaces his thumb with his mouth, teeth scraping over the skin momentarily then sucking gently at the spot. That question earns a deep groan of disgust from Kellen, still on the bed, which of course makes Leech laugh without detaching his mouth. After a long moment, he draws back with a final lick to the reddening skin. "Absolutely. Ya wanna take yer pills first? Er mebbe the pain is what's inspiring you?"

Ruckus: Honestly, the idea of trying to even attempt halfway decent sex right now sounds too strenuous an activity, but while his mind is willing, the body is busted and bruised. Mind is winning. There is a half smile for the continued affections, though it twists into a frown for the suggestion of pills, a quick glance up to the bed where Kellen is making disagreeing noises. "Don' trust em. Can' think." He's not sure exactly what transpired during this blackout period he can't account for, but whatever it is, he knows he doesn't want to go back to it.

Leech/Kellen: Leech narrows his eyes, curious, because Ruckus hasn't shown any reluctance to take his pills before now. Then that glance at Kellen registers, and a corner of the parasite's mouth tucks back in amusement. "Ahhh. Did my brother take advantage of yer lowered inhibitions? Unforgivable!" But he sounds more entertained than anything. Shifting away, he sits up and works the lid off the bottle, pressing two of the painkillers to the man's lips. "Don' worry, I'm here to protect ya now."

Ruckus: Some sort of subconcious hinting has made him distrustful of drugs for the first time in his life, and it is quite the unsettling feeling. If you can't trust drugs, what can be trusted in life? "Not sure. 's the problem." He eyes Kellen a second longer before laying his head back against the blanketed floor, squinting at the ceiling and looking like thoughts are a tangible hurt to have, but obediently sticks his tongue out when Leech brings pills close enough, taking them into his mouth and swallowing like a good patient.

Leech/Kellen: Kellen continues staring at the television screen as if unaware that he's being discussed, that is, until Leech speaks up again. "Good boy. I brought some beer home with me, ya want one to help wash it down?" At this, Kellen raises an arm in the air like he's volunteering to answer in class. "Fuck yes! Bring me two." Leech rolls his eyes towards the kid, but it doesn't have much effect; Kellen has yet to glance in their direction.

Ruckus: Ruckus nods, looking about as close to pitiful as he can being a huge, ripped beast of a man with a perma-scowl. With a butterfly tattoo. Leech is detatched from him enough that he sees fit to move finally, though he only gets as far as sitting up and dumping his top half over the bedspread and remaining draped halfway over the side like a sock monkey.

Leech/Kellen: Leech nods also, rising and returning to the kitchen. Kellen rolls his eyes to Ruckus when he emerges from the depths, eying him uncertainly for a moment or two before offering a hand to assist him in crawling back onto the bed. It's the least he can do, literally. Waiting for his assistance to be accepted, he tilts his head to the side in query. "So, ya gunna tell im? About the rape bear?"

Ruckus: "I am the kraken." He monotones, face down in the sheets and waggling his jazzhands, the least menacing that jazzhands have ever been waggled. For that question, he stiffens and watches Kellen with one eye, not sure whats happening but cautious of it. Accepting the hand with his able one, he grits his teeth until situated in a sort of comfortable heap, rubbing at his face as if clearing sleep. "Nah... no. I think- no."

Ruckus: Ruckus is used to Leech being gone for long periods of time now, which he admits is a complete reversal of what he's used to. Even though he has been visiting off and on for a long time now, he's used to finding ways to occupy himself, not sitting around waiting for Leech to return, and after all the time the kid apparently spends awaiting signs that Ruckus isn't a stain on someone's shirt somewhere, he may be feeling a little of why there are some bitter feelings coming his way time to time. Presently, Leech is off on a food errand, and he's stuck with the brother, who... honestly, he feels they have a better understanding between them now. Perhaps only because of the information Kellen now holds, but either way, he has no trouble sharing a couch with the kid, watching late tv and not bickering childishly. Yet.

Leech/Kellen: Over the last few days, Kellen has become accustomed to Ruckus' presence enough that it isn't a constant irritation. Just an occasional irritation. Of course, the weed helps; he's sprawled out on the opposite side of the couch from the broken man, feet up on the table in mismatched socks and finishing off a joint, only barely paying attention to whatever it is on the television. Leech had hidden the remote somewhere, so Kellen is incapable of his usual rapid channel changing tactics, but this is just as mind-numbing. Leaning forward, he snuffs the joint and rearranges himself to face Ruckus more, watching him with heavily-lidded, brooding eyes, like he's got something on his mind.

Ruckus: Ruckus has little regard for his couchmate other than a tense yet comfortable silence, not as blissed out on pills as he's been but enough to just sit through whatever is on TV and not leave the room when Kellen occupies too close a space. He does, however, notice the somewhat 'fucking notice my mood' look being cast in his direction, casually exhaling through his nose as he turns just enough to catch that challenging look and cock an eyebrow, and though he's used to seeing a similar look from Leech, that one usually is more 'I know I'm right so I don't have to listen to this' cast-offish rather than Kellen's almost taunting gaze, "Ya need somethin, Alice?"

Leech/Kellen: Kellen narrows one eye for that form of address, but he just doesn't question it; by now, he's heard plenty of the bizarre things that Ruckus calls Leech, and maybe 'Alice' is better than Ruckus pretending he doesn't remember who he is. "Mebbe." Leaning to the side again, Kellen reclaims his beer and takes a long drink, as if he's trying to make this a casual conversation. "Did Leech talk to ya about relocating to the school, next week?"

Ruckus: He may be okay with occupying the same oxygen Kellen does, but that does not mean they are friends who will share clothes and read each other's diaries outloud on lonely Friday night while sipping wine coolers. But he is tolerable. Ruckus has a lame water bottle - surely a consideration made by Leech in a random attempt at responsibily handling the situation, sipping hardly seems as cool as he mirrors the action, "Might have. I don' really pay attention ta that shit til' it happens."

Leech/Kellen: Making a noise in his throat to let Ruckus know that he heard him, Kellen stares at his beer thoughtfully for a moment, not sure he should bring up the next thing. But after another drink, he forges forward despite the obvious dangers involved. "Prolly you weren't really payin' attention anyway, but did he say anything to you 'bout someone named Tim?"

Ruckus: Kellen doesn't have the years of Ruckus handling that Leech or Ruckus have aquired, and clearly lacks the finess to deal with him in the proper way. Though, there probably isn't a proper way, truth be told. The mention of Tim makes his eyebrows do something that could be called 'sharping', as if he plans to hold then against Kellen's throat in a hostage exchange. "Not directly, he didn'. But I'm aware." He clips the words carefully, for someone on drugs, the words going through his teeth a little.

Leech/Kellen: With that reaction, even before Ruckus speaks, Kellen thinks that maybe he should have kept the question to himself. But it's out now, so he may as well continue. He nods a few times, slow, but not exactly cautious, killing the rest of the beer and setting it on the coffee table with the other few empties. "Well...Tim's at the school. And he's kinda pissed at Leech, right now, but he'll prolly get over that soon as he needs...something...from him..."

Ruckus: Ruckus does his damnedest to not seem like he gives a damn. Which, being Ruckus, means a lot of angry face and no room for argument in the way he speaks, "I can take care'a that." He says flatly, as if he dares anyone to question his ability to snap this 'Tim' person's neck in a broom closet the second they're withtin 10 feet of eachother.

Leech/Kellen: Kellen can easily translate that statement, even if he can't usually decode Ruckus-speak, and it makes him snort with a mixture of amusement and disbelief. "I'm sure ya could, but I'm not sure that's the best way to take care of it. I mean, Leech is sorta fond of the kid. It wouldn' be like you gettin' rid of some asshole who harassed him for years." Giving Ruckus a bit of a Look, he rolls off the couch to go to the kitchen and retrieve another beer.

Ruckus: Ruckus rubs at his forehead with his useful hand, as if any continued talk of this Tim thing is just doing his head in. "Arrite, so I don' kill him, an I ain' gonna fuckin be nice ta him. Fuckin' fantastic." At the look Kellen gives him over the information that hangs between them, Ruckus sneers a bit, stitched lip pulling in a sort of sickly look, "That somethin' yer gonna go around flauntin' left an right now, kiddo?"

Leech/Kellen: Having acquired his beer, and a bag of mini pretzels, Kellen returns to the main room and rolls over the back of the couch to take up his previous spot. He gives Ruckus an unimpressed glance as he snaps the lid off the beer, then downs a good swallow before responding. "Wasn't plannin' on it. But you might wanna mention it anyway, just in case I slip up or something."

Ruckus: He doesn't return much of a look when Kellen resituates himself, fiddling with a bandage on his shoulder instead and actively trying not to shake this kid like a sock monkey doll for how fucking irritating he can be. Leech was never like this when he was that age, and oh god he's an old dad. "He doesn' need to know." He says sharply, lifting those martini eyes serious as a heart attack and digging into Kellen with silent warnings.

Leech/Kellen: "Technically, no, he prolly doesn't. But you might need him to know." Obviously, Kellen isn't very good with self-preservation, since he completely ignores those silent warnings and the sharpness in Ruckus' voice, only glancing at the man again as he sits back with his pretzels. "As it stands, ya don' really offer many reasons fer Leech to throw over his other attachments for you, y'know? You take off all the time, anyway, an' this time it was for damn near half a year; knowing that you did it for him would make up for the bullshit a little."

Ruckus: As much as he doesn't want to have to be trapped in a room between Leech and his interferring miniature self, he hopes the guy gets back soon, as it would at least be something that isn't Kellen. And goddamnit Kellen's logic actually makes sense, and on that merit he almost wants to go along with it. But, fuck, this is Ruckus and that sort of easy sense just doesn't fly. "Don' care if my leg fuckin falls off, 'm never gettin high around ya again." He reaches over and steal the pretzel bag, because grabby hands, making a face that dares Kellen to take it back as he eats a few, "Why you so interested in my good standin' here, anyhow? Wouldn' figure ya like the idea'a me stayin around."

Leech/Kellen: Kellen does allow the pretzels to be stolen, only sneering at Ruckus' semi-threatening expression, and going back to his beer instead. "Not fer myself, but for Leech, yeh. If nothing else, it'd be better than him goin' back to Tim and getting fucked over again. I mean, you are a piece of shit, and way more trouble than yer worth, but at least you don' lie to him. You don' promise not to fuck other people then do it right in his fucking face. You don'-- " Kellen cuts himself off with a little growly noise, taking another long drink from his beer, and summarizing: "Yer the lesser of two evils."

Ruckus: For a moment there, Kellen actually seems like a real life human, one with logic and thoughtfulness beyond his years, and Ruckus is more fucking suspicious than ever. Ruckus sneers at the words, not for lack of agreement but more so that he still doesn't know this Tim person but he couldn't hate him more than he does now. Fucker is just all over the place pissing him off. Handing back the pretzels without looking and ganking Kellen's beer instead, he rolls his shoulders, wincing at the deep tisse soreness it pulls at. "I'll think about it," he mutters, staring intently at the TV but looking past it in reality, not sure if this is something he should be agreeing to at all.

Leech/Kellen: Kellen didn't object to the pretzel swindle, but the beer stealing does make him turn his head to scowl at Ruckus, taking a moment to decide it isn't worth it - he'd nearly finished that one, anyway. That reluctant response makes him snort doubtfully, because it doesn't seem like Ruckus ever thinks about anything, but he answers easily enough. "Yeh, do that. Else next time you come to visit, there might not be enough room in Leech's bed for ya." Speaking of Leech, where the hell is he? Why is Kellen constantly left alone with this creature?

Ruckus: The two of them seem to be like two dogs fighting over a bone neither is particularly interested in, but doesn't want the other to possess. Finishing off the end of the beer, he sets it heavily down on the coffee table, though what Kellen responds with damages his cool and without thinking, the splinted right hand flies up and collides with a loud smack to the side of Kellen's face, and though nothing in Kellen's face cracks under the weight of the hit, his fingers are certainly feeling the kickback. "Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck fuck...!" He jerks his arm back to hold it against his chest, good hand gripping tightly to his wrist and biting down furiously on an already damaged lip.

Leech/Kellen: Not that he's a battered housewife, but Kellen's definitely used to getting smacked now and then, usually thanks to speaking before thinking. That being the case, his reflexes are pretty good where hands flying at his head are concerned, and though he doesn't avoid it entirely, he does jerk back enough to avoid much damage. Then he straightens up again immediately, entirely ready to retaliate, but Ruckus' response forestalls him and instead of hitting back, he starts laughing. Just a little snicker at first, but as Ruckus continues cradling that damaged hand the laughter increases until it's almost uncontrollable and Kellen has to curl over on himself, turning his face away before he can gasp out words between bouts of laughing. "Ya look like...a kid that stuck a an electrical outlet...oh, fuck."

Ruckus: The moving back at the last minute seems to have only made it worse, with his fingers finding more purchase on Kellen's face than his palm taking the weight of the hit, and even though it fucking kills right now - seriously considering backing out of that promise to never be on pills with this kid - he really, really wants to hit him again, good and proper now for being so amused with this. "Oh shut it, twatwaffle." He talks through his teeth, tilting his head back into the couch and pissed as hell that he can't just get up and pace around for a while like a normal person trying to walk off a hurt. Pulling his hand back a little to look at the damage, he hisses a little and sneers again, starting to taste some copper in his mouth and assuming something there reopened. Fucking great. "Fuck... think I rebroke somethin' important in there..." His fingers don't bend well in splints anyhow, but their mobility seems diminished further, and goddamn does that hurt.

Leech/Kellen: Paying no mind to that creative malediction, Kellen crosses both arms over his stomach and flops against the arm rest of the couch, still laughing that loud, pervasive, usually infectious laugh, although Ruckus doesn't seem to be catching on to the amusement. "Ohhh, shit...instant karma, motherfucker..."

Naturally, it's at this juncture that Leech returns from his mission for food. The laughter that greets him even before he opens the door makes him instantly suspicious, since Kellen isn't typically jovial while around Ruckus. The scene he finds after entering only increases the suspicion, so he doesn't bother taking the food to the kitchen but sets the bags on the coffee table, knocking over an empty beer bottle, then rounding it to loom over Ruckus. "What'd you do?" Of course, the question is accompanied by a squinty accusing look thrown at Kellen, who raises his hands to protest his innocence, but can't stop laughing long enough to speak.

Ruckus: Kellen probably deserves a good smack in the mouth, even if not for this offense, but for what are surely countless others he's walking around unpunished for every day. If he's going to be a brat, he should at least get hit for it. And Ruckus is, usually, great at that. Leech coming home doesn't really register between the cackle of the obnoxious spider monkey on the couch and breathing heavily to avoid gnawing his hand off at the wrist to maybe lessen some suffering, but suddenly the parasite is standing in front of him and asking simple enough questions, and Ruckus, being that he's in a foul enough mood, almost deadpans his rapid fire response in a single breath, "Yer fuckin' brother here found out 'm laid up here 'cause I shot Ivan in the face an the family tried ta lay my ass out fer it, an 's fuckin convinced ya need ta know 'bout it so much that his mouth don' stop when it should an now 'm pretty sure I rebroke at least one finger." He blankly stares up at Leech with an eyebrow cocked, holding his hand up as straight as it allows, where the digits are clearly throbbing and have seen better days.

Leech/Kellen: If anything, that rushed reply makes Kellen laugh harder, not only because Ruckus sounds so petulant but because it means that he totally won their argument. He's sure it should be a very serious moment for them, but right now he can't seem to stop himself. Leech doesn't seem to find anything funny about it; he was reaching for Ruckus' apparently re-injured hand when that explanation comes, but freezes before actually taking the appendage, only staring at Ruckus with that blank, emotionless mask of a face that he seems so practiced at now. He certainly heard all of that, and understood it as well as anyone could before translation, but there's no clue to how he might feel about it. Eventually he gives a slight nod and straightens up again. "Do you want some ice for it?"

Ruckus: Instead of giving away any sort of anxious feelings over blurting out the secret of the fucking decade (and honestly, he doesn't even care all that much, because his hand hurts, and that is clearly a bigger deal), he just scowls, like he's just over this shit and can they please move on to more important matters now? For once, he gets his wish, and Leech is... well, this was something he'd considered could happen, along with uncontrollable sobbing and possibley getting a lamp thrown at his head, really, anything was possible when you were fucking with Leech's feelings. Keeping the eye contact, he holds back a sigh of relief, answering almost quietly, "Yes." and further ignoring Kellen.

Leech/Kellen: With another faint nod, Leech moves away to head into the kitchen, and giving Kellen a smack on the ear along the way that's somewhat more successful than Ruckus' earlier attempt. It does, at least, force Kellen to strangle his laughter back, though he doesn't seem very chastised as he returns to a sitting position, giving Ruckus a sidelong glance (because direct eye contact might make him start laughing again). "See how well that went? He's totally won over." He is fairly quiet when he says this, because one smack on the ear is enough for now.

Leech returns shortly with a bag of frozen vegetables (since his daddy taught him that they work better than actual ice cubes for injuries) and hands it off wordlessly. Really, he's not sure what to feel about this revelation, but he's pretty certain he doesn't want to be feeling it in front of Kellen and his perpetual mockery, whatever it might be. So he more or less calmly takes the place on the couch between them, hauling the bag of chinese food towards himself and starting to unpack the various boxes.

Ruckus: He is entirely unconvinced that one smack is enough, giving the kid a sharp glare and daring him to keep it up. He would say how they aren't out of the woods on this one, that Leech is nearly as emotionally unpredictable as himself these days, could very well come back in here and start screaming in Ruckus' face and beating those tiny fists into him in a rage for what he's just learned. But so far, it's calm, even if it's a tentaive calm, and he accepts the frozen veggies with a hiss for the pressure against his likely broken bones, sinking back into the couch to await relief, also not into the idea of Kellen being privy to anything else concerning him for the rest of his existance.

Leech/Kellen: Kellen is pretty impervious to awkwardness, which might be wonderful for him, but isn't doing the other two people in the room any good, so once he snatches up a container of food and a pair of chopsticks, Leech gives the kid a pointed look that isn't quite as sharp as Ruckus', but more effective. With an inarticulate, mouth-full grumble and a roll of the eyes, Kellen gets up, snatches an egg roll, and skulks off to his bedroom. Leech watches him go, shoulders relaxing a tiny amount when the door slams behind him. He also picks up an egg roll but just breaks it in half and picks at the contents distractedly, letting the silence settle for a minute before talking. "Do you needa get that seen to?"

Ruckus: Ruckus has had enough Kellen to last a lifetime during his stint here, and it's nice to see him up and leave finally, though now he's stuck with an unreadable Leech and that may be just as bad a situation. Not particularly hungry this very moment - maybe he was before all the hurt and the awkward - he watches Leech dissect his food, shrugging a little at the question, "Dunno. Might." Ruckus has spent a good chunk of his life trying to get Leech to tone down his emotions around him, and now that it's working better than ever, he thinks he may have fucked something up. "I shot Ivan in the face." He says carefully, as if he's aware Leech heard him the first time, but also that it deserved being said plainly and not in a breathless outburst of an accident report in a flare of temper.

Leech/Kellen: Leech only nods, not leaping up to get Ruckus to the doctor rightthissecond to make sure his hand isn't going to fall off, which is a pretty good indicator that he's out of sorts. The repetition gets somewhat more of a reaction this time around; the parasite twitches his shoulders, not quite a shrug, and closes his eyes for a few seconds, then sits forward to place the egg roll back on the table. Maybe this just isn't dinner conversation. "Yeh, so ya said. Why'd you do that?"

Ruckus: As much as he thinks he does probably need it looked at, he's not going to be the one to say so, and like with most medical emergancies, he'll end up forced there by someone else. Shifting the makeshift ice pack as quietly as he can to avoid the awkward rustling sound in the tense quiet, he holds in the Ruckusresponse he would spew forth any other time, about how he killed people for money all the time, might as well do one for free, or something else that maybe didn't mention his shady career so much. Instead, the answer is simple, for once, "I hated what he did ta you." And he's finding it hard not to look at Leech now, shot full of holes and beaten to hell and knowing it's because of a link to the other person on the couch, it's still feeling worth the trouble.

Leech/Kellen: Leech is surprised by that answer, surprised by the fact that he didn't answer with some bullshit, throw-away comment like usual. It doesn't clarify his own feelings, but it doesn't make him feel bad about pursuing the conversation either. "What he me. Thought he fucked you over pretty good, too." Referring to the fact that Ivan was the main cause of Leech leaving without notice, of course. Having given up on eating for the time being, instead he digs a pack of cigarettes out and lights one up, taking a drag from it before offering it to Ruckus.

Ruckus: Ruckus gives a humorless snort for that detail, "Icing on the poisoned fuckin' cake, that was." Honestly, for as much as he did hate Ivan for who he was to Ruckus, hating him for what he was to Leech had proved more powerful a driving force, having no trouble accepting both the responsibility of murder and tolerating gratutious bodily harm afterward, all because of having to remember the look on Leech's face while he held him still enough to get stitches. The cigarette gets a hardy drag, and he's not sure if he's meant to keep it, but he does for the next few inhales as well, "If yer buryin' somethin, now's the time ta unbury it." He would usually say such things with a meaningful expression, but now, it's just that low rough tone, asking as best he can for Leech to react if he wants to, because being so mellow is starting to unnerve him.

Leech/Kellen: Leech's mouth tucks back at the corner in something like a smirk, giving Ruckus a brief look of disbelief. "'cuz yer a big advocate of opening up and talkin' about yer feelings." Leaning to the side, he reclaims that cigarette, shaking his head after hitting it a couple times and running his free hand through his unstyled hair. "I dunno, Ruckus, I'm not burying anything, I'm jus' not sure what the fuck I think about it. It was so..." Trailing off, he takes another drag, collapsing back against the couch heavily. "How did ya even find him, after all this time?"

Ruckus: The thump thump of hearing his own blood in his ears fades some at Leech's response, giving the cigarette up willingly and resituating his ice pack distractedly, unable to disagree with the observation. But Leech not knowing how to feel about it? Well, it doesn't feel all that great, and this sort of thing is exactly why he didn't want to tell him. He shrugs for the question, "I was real fuckin motivated, an it wasn' hard. He's no better at low-profile than he was before, with me movin' around so much, ya hear things. Jus' that his people found me right back."

Leech/Kellen: As Ruckus explains, Leech nods and smokes, still just unnervingly quiet and thoughtful and not very encouraging. "So ya were looking. It wasn't like you jus' ran into him and took the opportunity." That isn't a question, but the idea of Ruckus actually assiduously hunting the fucker - not what Leech would have expected. He ignores the part about Ivan's 'people' finding Ruckus in return (and how the fuck does the scumbag have 'people' anyway), focusing on more important points. "What was...did you say anything to him at all? Did he even know who you were?" Not that Ruckus changed at all, but junkies don't always have great memories either.

Ruckus: He nods at that statement, keeping to himself details of the decision for a big hunt, like it was an end to a conquest that went years back, something he'd always wanted to carry out and for whatever reason, it seemed like a good time. As for the second inquiry, he turns hard liquor eyes to Leech's windex, his own clear from heavy painkillers and whatever else for the first time in a while, and while he's full of hurt for that, it makes his response that much more sharp, "He knew, who I was." It's clear that the man was well aware of not only who Ruckus was, but why he was there, and that he rightfully died afraid.

Leech/Kellen: Still silent as he takes that in, Leech offers the last of the cigarette to Ruckus and takes to chewing on the inside of his cheek instead, staring at his own hands. He doesn't typically consider himself a very moral-driven person at all, but it's true that he doesn't much approve of Ruckus' 'job' - as much for the fact that Ruckus can get seriously injured doing it, or in trouble that he can't get out of, as because he disapproves of people being killed just because someone said they should be. But this situation is obviously different. Taking a deep breath, Leech sits up straight and turns to look at Ruckus directly, probably for the first time since this conversation began. "Good." Not much praise, but it's solidly said, and Leech backs it up by leaning in and pressing a firm kiss to the corner of Ruckus' mouth.

Ruckus: The silence before Leech says anything is fucking killer, but he's thankful for the distraction of the cigarette for just a moment, watching warily as the kid turns to face him finally. The single word approval sealed with a kiss in enough for him to release tension he was winding tighter and tighter, returning the affection and wondering if Leech can taste the tinge of blood left there. "I broke my hand on your brother's fucking smartass face."

Leech/Kellen: Leech definitely notices the faint metallic tinge on those lips, leaning back some and squinting suspiciously. "'m sure he deserved it. Did he try to hit you back, or did ya damage your mouth in some other way?" Apparently relieved from the tension as well, Leech reclaims the eggroll he was previously picking at and sits back to nibble at it, more for something to occupy him than because he's hungry. "Do ya think mebbe next time you visit vengeance on our enemies, you can be a little more subtle about it? Do it so you aren' required to go into hiding?"

Ruckus: He shakes his head for the the question, looking annoyed, "Nah, think I bit down on somethin busted. Ferrety bastard..." He sinks further down into the couch, slouching deep enough to rest his hand against his chest and balance the frozen pack on top of it, freeing up the other to slide under Leech's leg to warm it back up. "Mmm don' think so, no. Why ya think they call me 'Ruckus'?" It should be obvious, but he knows what Leech is really asking, and he wishes there was a better answer to give, "An ya don' just quietly take out a mob connection, anyway."

Leech/Kellen: Leech snorts in quiet amusement for that explanation, muttering mostly to himself: "'tween the two'a you, I prolly oughta go to nursing school. Least open up a blood bank." Ruckus injures himself through violence, but Kellen more often injures himself through inattention or just bad luck; either way, Leech feels like he spends a lot of time cleaning them up. Shifting to trap that hand beneath his leg, the parasite leans to the side to gingerly rest against Ruckus' injured shoulder. "I always sorta figured they called you 'Ruckus' 'cuz you don' deal well with silence. But...why can' you take out a mob connection quietly? An' how the fuck does a twat like Ivan have mob connections in the first place?" Finishing his eggroll neatly, he refrains from going for any other food just yet, looking curiously at Ruckus.

Ruckus: Perhaps because of his size, Leech had always been catlike-lucky in his graceful movements, at least most of the time. It did seem to escape Kellen, genetics picky and choosey as they were. The warm pressure against his arm is welcome, leaning over just slightly to better accomadate and rest his forehead against Leech's scalp. "Could be that, too. 'Ya make ruckus like a dog in a metal trash can!'" He imitates, obviously the voice of someone with less than dulcet tones in the cantankerous impression. He exhales heavily against Leech's head, like that in itself wore him out enough to be tired, "Related, I think. Distant family'a some son'a a bitch er another. Doesn' matter how ya kill em, in an igloo somewhere er on live TV, somebody notices when one'a them stops comin' round."

Leech/Kellen: Likely, Leech's grace came from his mother's side anyway, so it's no wonder Kellen missed out. The kid isn't precisely clumsy, but he does somehow absent-mindedly beat himself up a lot. Leech gives a faint laugh for the imitation, just barely a breath of sound, and rubs his cheek lightly against that shoulder. "Ahh, family. Shit. If he'd been my family, I'd send ya a fuckin' fruit basket and a handmade Thank-You card for takin' him out." Squirming again, Leech tucks his feet beneath himself, turning to face Ruckus on the couch but not lifting his head, probably not wanting to meet his eyes for the next question; indeed, his behavior might be called preemptive cowering, and he speaks quietly, like he expects to get answered with a reprimand. "So...that's what you do, then? 's why you move around so much? Shootin' people in the face for the mob?"

Ruckus: Ruckus snorts humorlessly for that, adding a muttered, "Wax fruit maybe..." He lifts his head up from it's resting place as Leech shifts, hand slipping from its warming spot to avoid numbness and instead leaves it wrapped around one of the almost-jagged knees, and with their smallness and his hugeness, his fingers wrap just about all the way around it like holding a softball. They do tense and almost jerk away at the question though, hadn't been expecting this conversation to happen. Maybe, at some point, but certainly not now, and he isn't prepared for what he wants to spill. Seems he doesn't need drugs to let secrets slip so easily. "Somethin' like that, yeah." Ruckus' tone is more clipped and quick, as if stressing he wants no part of this conversation, as if it would really matter now. After a silent stretch, he seems to talk himself back to calm, as if that hand had been about to fly on it's own, "Not always the face."

Leech/Kellen: The discouraging tone is almost expected, doesn't make the parasite any more tense than he was, but the fact that Ruckus actually does answer honestly is almost shocking. Leech takes a second to recover from it and turn those terse answers over in his mind while his shoulders gradually unclasp from around his ears and lower to a more relaxed position. "Oh." The single syllable makes it clear that Leech still has questions - most of all, Why? - but he doesn't press his luck by asking any. "Well, that's...not actually very reassuring." Sure, he assumed Ruckus' job was something along those lines - probably violent, undoubtedly illegal - but actually knowing, now, that Ruckus is out killing or at least trying to kill people whenever he isn't here, it's bound to make Leech worry more when the man leaves again. At that thought, Leech unconsciously drops a hand over Ruckus' un-re-injured one, his fingers winding tightly around the others as if in restraint.

Ruckus: Leech obviously is about as enthused with this talk as he is, although for different reasons. He's never wanted to have what he does enter the bubble of the two of them, wants to leave it at the door like dirty shoes, keep the two lives seperate, but its becoming more and more difficult coming back each time and having to see signs that Leech's life is moving, too. Furniture in different places, hearing mention of names in passing he doesn't know, and of course, the things he tries to ignore the most, things like Tim and any others he's aware or ignorant of. To feel replaced and knowing he's the one making it the only option, being the way he is. "Leech, I'm- fuck," He feels his chest warming from the inside, the way it does when restless anger surfaces - so easily done - and he knows he can't get up and pace this away right now. Instead, he holds right back to that hand, though less in reassurance and intimacy and more as one would a stress ball, "I'm very good at what I do. 'm good like John Travolta suckin' dick." He's looking pointedly at Leech now, martini eyes bright as ever and intent, like he expects the kid to understand something he isn't saying.

Leech/Kellen: Leech's shoulders twitch at that abrupt curse and he leans away minutely, not in fear - not quite in fear - but plainly expecting a bigger explosion to succeed it. He drops his gaze to where their hands are clasped, running his thumb along the side of Ruckus' palm like he's trying to be soothing, though he doesn't complain about the increased grip even if it feels like he might also be nursing damaged digits soon.

It takes a long time for him to respond, and he does so carefully; there's plenty of things he'd like to say, but doubts any of them would have any effect, is certain that all of them would only make the situation more uncomfortable. So he just gives a near-silent sigh through his nose, then tilts his head and peers up at Ruckus from the corner of his eyes. "Is John Travolta very good at suckin' dick? I can't remember hearin' anything about his reputation in that department."

Ruckus: "No better'n you, 's fer damn sure." For once, Leech is submitting to his desire never to discuss things that come with feelings trailing behind them like aftershock, and for once, Ruckus almost wishes he wouldn't. It isn't about reassuring Leech he'll be physically sound, nothing he can say could convince that, and he can't guarantee it anyhow. It isn't about trying to uphold an image of sainthood, Leech knows better than that, always did, even as a naive stray, and it's never been about purity with them. But he's feeling generous in the information department, surrendering a raspy laugh that sounds like rust and patting firmly at Leech's leg as if urging a horse to go faster, "'s a bag, in the bedroom. Go take a look-see in the middle zip pocket."

Leech/Kellen: At that response, Leech's mouth tucks back in faint amusement and he straightens up a little more. "Are you good like me suckin' dick?" Undeniably a strange comparison, but he's certain of his unalloyed success rate with cock sucking, whereas Ruckus' success rate with shooting people - without getting himself hurt in the process - is somewhat up to question. He looks suspicious for that order, but after a moment he gives in to curiosity, untangling his fingers from Ruckus' and standing up. Rather than searching the bag, Leech hauls it back with him and sets it on Ruckus' lap, taking up his previous position on the couch afterwards and watching the man quizzically.

Ruckus: Ruckus, curiously, gives no answer to that right away, instead just continues to look devious, a look all the more sinister by the bloodied lip between stark black stitches. He would argue that his skills are still top notch, seeing as he's only ever beaten almost to death and never actualy dead, but he's sure that is obvious by his stubborn refusal to die and sit on Leech's couch. The bag in his lap is decidedly better, as seeing Leech's reaction is now a factor, manuvering it as well he can with one hand, holding the strap of the bag with his teeth to unzip the second to largest compartment, revealing an ostentatious amount of bills, none under the $50 denomination, and seemingly endless despite the small space they're cramped in. "Yeah, 'm probably that good." He belatedly replies.

Leech/Kellen: Leech is a decidedly unworldly person when it comes to the article of money; sure, it's nice to have around, you can get stuff with it, but it isn't something he spends time considering or lusting after. Despite that, his eyes perceptibly widen when the contents of that bag are revealed, and he gives Ruckus a swift, bewildered look, before leaning closer, reaching out to delicately paw through the cash, some of it lose, some still in neat bank-wrapped stacks, speaking absently. "Definitely can' say anyone's ever paid me for suckin' dick..." But this sparks another thought and he sits up, giving the man a look more questioning than confused, eyes narrowed. "You don' do it for money, though? I mean, they pay you - apparently well - but, what the fuck would you need money for? Especially that much money." His gaze flicks to the ludicrous amount of cash quickly, then back to Ruckus again. "Saving up fer yer own island, or something?"

Ruckus: Ruckus is decently amused by Leech's reaction - it's getting harder and harder to phase the kid as time goes on, and wearing down in his older age, he isn't always up for the task anymore. "This isn' even the tip'a the iceberg lettuce." He doesn't elaborate on how much more there is, as frankly, he doesn't even know anymore, and he doesn't feel the need to impress Leech with a number. "I don' need a fraction'a what I got. Point is, I'm in this deep," He motions absently to the pile Leech is pawing at, "really can' do much else. Ya don' jus' take out- a lot'a people an then decide ta move on with other, normal shit." He almost slips and does give a bodycount number, but that would probably only upset present company, grumbling a quiet, annoyed afterthought, "'course I could lighten it if Dust would fuckin' let me get him some shit once an a while."

Leech/Kellen: While undeniably impressed with this completely unsuspected wealth, Leech does do a decent job of not letting it show, focusing on the more important factors. "Ya don' have to do other, normal shit - fuck, from the way it sounds, you don' gotta do anything at all if you don' want to." Although he's well aware that doing nothing would drive Ruckus insane in a short period, as his forced downtime is right now, still the idea of Ruckus 'retiring' from what he does is very appealing. He disregards the comment about Duster, just shaking his head a little. "So if it isn' fer the money you don' need, why do you do it?"

Ruckus: Leech isn't wrong, Ruckus doesn't have to do what normal people do, doesn't have to even think about the possibility, but when he does, well, the insanity of even the last week or so staying inside and taking it easy is crippling, even more so than his leg. As for the question, he just cocks an eyebrow, as if asking a question he already knows the answer to, "Why do you suck cock?" It's rhetorical, obviously, and really not a valid argument, but he goes on anyway, "Jus' cause I kill people, don' mean everything involved jus' goes away, too. I can' stay in one place, can' get attached, 's a reason people hire people like me ta do it for em. This?" He holds up a neatly wrapped bundle of hundreds, "This is a big wad'a 'thanks fer doin what I'm not willin' to'." He drops it back to the top of the pile in the bag, reaching over to steal the discarded other half of Leech's eggroll.

Leech/Kellen: Leech gives Ruckus a flat look for that first question, because it's obvious the analogy has run its course. He stays silent throughout the rest of the explanation, if that's what it is, eyes once again narrowing in displeasure towards the handful of money. "That's not why I suck cock." Obviously not. He looks away thoughtfully, letting the silence spiral out for a few moments, then leans forward to light another cigarette. "You can't quit, even if you wanted to?" He tries his best to keep the hopefulness out of his tone, but doesn't entirely succeed, but luckily the twinge of hurt he feels for Ruckus saying he 'can't get attached' doesn't expose itself; Leech thinks that perhaps that wasn't directed towards him.

Ruckus: "No, it's not." He responds, matching the flat tone, "Ya do it cause thats what ya do and yer good at it. This's what I've always done. An I'm good at it." Despite being impervious to feelings like Superman to bullets, Leech's tone doesn't escape him, and the black heart in his chest can't help but feel a little pull to reassure him of anything and everything. But he can't lie to him like that, instead shrugs, relaxing back into the couch, "Suppose I did? We both know 'm not gettin any more young an agile, I gotta stop sooner or later." Sooner, he thinks, rather than later, "An I stay here, get comfy an spend my time rollin' hundreds to light yer cigarettes with. Then suppose someone finds out, an comes lookin cause I killed so-an-so. I can' do that to ya."

Leech/Kellen: "You mean, ya do it because you like doin' it." Leech keeps his voice carefully expressionless and his focus on the burning cigarette. He also shrugs as Ruckus goes on, just a little uncomfortable shoulder-twitch, dragging hard off the cigarette. The initial comments are encouraging, but as Ruckus continues, it's clear he doesn't have much enthusiasm for the idea of retiring from his day job. "But that'll happen no matter where ya are, won't it? So even if ya do stop, nothin will really change." He doesn't bother making that into a question, and it's obvious that Leech is oppressed by the fact that whether Ruckus is killing people or not, he won't be spending much time here.

Ruckus: "Like don' really seem like the right word, but yeah." Leech is obviously uncomfortable with this whole trail of conversation, but it's understandable, as it seems nothing in it is going to go the way he'd want it to. Sighing at how defeated the kid looks, Ruckus sets the ice pack on the coffee table, fingers sufficiantly numbed for now, he reaches his good arm around Leech's small shoulders, urging him closer to where he's usually found koala-bearing, even if it's been less than easy to do with everything being busted and broken. "Dunno if I ever said it, but ya know I got a thing fer lookin out for ya. That ain' gonna change, only now I gotta make bigger steps ta do it. Don' want you stuck in somethin' I did."

Leech/Kellen: Leech gives in to being herded closer, but doesn't fully relax; it would be impossible to. He sighs out smoke before leaning in, tipping to the side some to rest his forehead against Ruckus' collarbone rather than the tender shoulder. "So build some fuckin' booby traps. Take yer obscene amount of money and build an underground lair that no one can find." The words might be whimsical, but his voice is empty, utterly defeated. It's one thing to know that Ruckus can't spend a lot of time around him because of his work, but hearing that Ruckus will never be around permanently is quite a different thing.

Ruckus: Leech isn't clinging, which is understandable, given the tense situation and Ruckus' bustedness, instead he just gives him a slight squeeze and presses stiched lips to Leech's shaved hairline. "'m kinda fucked up, kid." As if that explains everything. Leech seems somewhat wrecked by this revelation, and Ruckus considers the fact that in a single hour, he has discovered that his tormentor has been vigilanted, his boyfriend-come-lately is a hired hitman, and said man also has enough hard cash to buy a theme park complete with costumed employees on a whim. That might be overwhelming. "Ya can't want me around so much that ya risk that." Plus the implication of Kellen, and Duster, and anyone else tied down here.

Leech/Kellen: Leech only makes a noncommittal noise in his throat, having known for quite some time that Ruckus is 'kinda fucked up'; sure it's never been something he minded. He leans away enough to press the cigarette filter to Ruckus' lips, perhaps a sign that he doesn't blame the man for the fucked up situation entirely, but that later comment makes him purse his lips. "Can't I?" The question is obviously rhetorical, and with great effort, he manages to shove all of this to the side for later consideration. "Speakin' of people lookin' fer you, we need to relocate to the school Monday. Not jus' to avoid whoever's huntin' you - they definitely won' think to look there - but just, this back and forth shit, it's really gettin' old. An' I've had someone else coverin' my, ahh...the shit I do besides teaching, I mean, but I can' keep doin' that indefinitely. 'sides, I'm not convinced the headmaster won't let the place fall apart completely without me there to keep 'im in line."

Ruckus: Ruckus is appreciative for the cigarette, somehow feels like a sign of good faith, despite everything. It could be the slogan of their entire fucked up lives together after all these years, 'Despite Everything'. He makes a face for the exhale, the smoke aggravating the lip wound and thinking maybe though the nose would be a wiser choice. He looks a little uneasy about the idea of moving to the school, but there isn't much he can do aside from... well, complain loudly, but there will be time for that later. "Know ya ain' the type ta accept, but ya don' have to go back ta that, if you didn' wanna. Jus' sayin." There is no motion to the backback full of cash on the floor, but its presence is as noted as ever.

Leech/Kellen: Glad that Ruckus doesn't argue against the move, Leech smirks faintly around the filter of the cigarette, pressing it back to Ruckus' mouth when he's done inhaling. "Need to wait fer Kellen to graduate, at least; otherwise his dad'll want to send him off to a military school er fuck knows what. Otherwise..." He trails off thoughtfully. The idea of leaving the school is undeniably tempting, but Leech - much like Ruckus - would surely have difficulty finding another job, and the idea of living off Ruckus' blood money, without Ruckus even around, is definitely not palatable. He resists the urge to turn the offer back on Ruckus, taking one more drag before putting the cigarette out and continuing on his previous subject. "Shouldn' be too hard to move ya, there's a back way in so you don' gotta deal with too many stairs. I don't live near the other staffmembers er the students, so ya don' gotta worry about anyone botherin' ya when I'm off workin'. Be like stayin' here, really, jus' more secure."

Ruckus: Oh isn't Kellen just the lynchpin of his grand plan to wisk Leech away to a life of hopping from place to place, fucking on hotel beds and doing drugs in every area code. Surely Kellen exists on purpose to ruin things just like this. There is a groan for the mention of stairs, his newest nemesis, and damn if that doesn't make him feel far too old for his age. "Movin' into the Lord of the Flies trainin' center."

Leech/Kellen: Leech snorts at that, not very lighthearted or amused but trying for something close to it. "'m sure you'll fit right in. Once ya can manage the stairs, mebbe you can even sub fer a few classes." Which is a terrible idea altogether, for anyone involved. Shifting farther down the couch, Leech rests his head and shoulders in Ruckus' lap, while one hand moves up to the bandage covering his shoulder. "Do we needa change this? Could prolly just take it off fer good, don't think yer gunna start spurting blood again..."

Ruckus: "Can I have a horse? Ride around the halls on one'a those, people know ya aren't fuckin around." As for subbing a class, he thinks of how he could at least teach the impressionable children how to load a gun and hold a special lecture hour entitled, 'How to Get Away With It'. Leech pawing at his shoulder distracts him from his teaching career, frowning at the edge of the bandage covering part of the spiderweb inked there, "'s prolly fine. Tattoo is jacked though."

Leech/Kellen: That mental image actually does draw a laugh from Leech, quiet as it is. "Can you even ride a horse?" He looks at Ruckus quizzically as he pushes into a partially-sitting position again to carefully start removing the tape securing the bandaging to Ruckus' body. "Ahh, 'm sure Duster can figure out some way to fix it. Use the scar fer the body of a huge fuckin' spider, or something." Bit by bit, he eases the tape off - luckily, he used actual medical tape, which doesn't pull at the skin too much -sitting up more to work on the part at the top of Ruckus' shoulderblade. "Good thing they didn' shoot ya in the back an' fuck up yer pretty butterfly."

Ruckus: "One leg on each side? Sure thing." How hard could it be? He watches with passive intrest as Leech fiddles with the bandage, the skin not so sensitive as the last time they did this, Leech having to help him shave being a lower point of his self-sufficence. "Hello Kitty would fit in real nice there. Sure he'd be psyched to do one'a those."

Leech/Kellen: "I dunno, seems like it's gotta be more difficult than that..." He sounds unsure, because like hell has Leech ever been around horses. They actually unnerve him some, being so much larger than he is. Walking sideways on his knees, he lightly presses against the small of Ruckus' back to get him to lean forward and let him get at the last of the tape. Balling up the bandage absently once it's off, he looks over Ruckus' back intently. "Actually, ya don' have any real scars back here at all...that's sorta comforting." At least no one's been sneaking up on him.

Ruckus: "If princesses that talk ta little tweeting birds can do it sittin' sideways, I can figure it out." He leans forward when prompted, wincing at the change in position and balancing himself with a hand on the coffee table, reluctant to sit back up with Leech back there looking over the mural masterpiece that is his back. "Jus' make sure not ta turn my back around anyone. Gotta have at least one part'a me intact."

Leech/Kellen: "I have complete faith in yer abilities." This could be in response to Ruckus' horse-riding, but it could also be referrencing his more salient, people-killing abilities. Smoothing a hand down the length of that spine, Leech presses a brief kiss to the top of Ruckus' shoulder before dropping down to resume his previous position in the man's lap, squirming a little to achieve optimum comfort, keeping one arm folded up to allow his hand to rest against the back of Ruckus' hip. "What the fuck are ya gunna do with all that money, if you ever do quit yer day job?"

Ruckus: Maybe he should learn to ride a horse while firing a gun. Seems like a worthwhile skill to aquire. The petting down his spine is nearly shiver worthy, even though he's had plenty of human contact lately, this is something he hasn't felt in a while, somehow less clinical. Leech inviting himself to his lap is welcomed, waiting until Leech is situated and comfy before snaking an arm around his shoulders to hold him against the kanji on his chest, "Dunno, figure it'll be there later if I think'a somethin. Maybe buy myself a Waffle House an not let anyone else in."

Leech/Kellen: Leech turns his head towards that chest, just shy of nuzzling, humming thoughtfully. "Sure that's a worthwhile plan. Wouldn' ya have to let someone in to cook, though? Can't jus' expect pancakes to make themselves." He speaks with knowledge: since Kellen moved in, Leech has cooked more pancakes than he's ever cooked anything before in his life. Shifting onto his side again, he curls his legs up close to Ruckus' form, simultaneously tightening the arm around his back. "Ya could buy a used car lot an' not sell any of em, just drive a different one every day dependin' on how ya felt." He pauses, then looks up at Ruckus uncertainly. "Can you drive?"

Ruckus: "Suppose that would have ta be parta the plan. An clear out half the place to make room for the anamatronic rat band ta be installed. And a taco bar." First things first, obviously. Moving Leech around is a considerably more difficult task in his current state, but with some careful shifting around, he repositions to lay out on the couch, groaning at the relief of having his leg elevated again, gathering Leech to him again. "Got plenty'a cars, kinda scattered though." He says it insanely passively, as if it is compeletely normal behavior, "Can I? I mean, I have. But I don't. Don' have a license anyhow."

Leech/Kellen: Ruckus' waffle house is starting to sound like a neurotic fever dream, but Leech doesn't point that out, just letting him plot. "Wasn' the address you an' Duster always gave the hospital people a Waffle House? Like when I had to go get stitched up..." He narrows his eyes momentarily in attempted remembrance, but shrugs it off mentally, lifting up some while Ruckus repositions himself and finding a comfortable position against him afterwards, resting on his side against Ruckus' chest, but well away from the injured shoulder, with his own legs curled over the more sound of Ruckus'. "Yeh, 's kinda what I meant. You have cars, though? Multiple cars?" Again, he wants to ask, Why? but he just tilts his head back to look at Ruckus in confusion.

Ruckus: Ruckus snorts, nodding for the question, "Yeah. 'm sure they got a crate somewhere there full'a unpaid hospital bills an legal threaths. Not that Waffle Houses ain' already full'a those, m' sure." He usually feels residual anger burn through his chest cavity for the mention of the stitches adventure, but now, having thought of it for the first time since killing Ivan, the rage has deadened somewhat. "Yeah, somewhere. Least... five? Somethin' like that. Occasionally they get thrown in like complimentary crab rangoon."

Leech/Kellen: Leech takes a moment to consider that - mobsters giving Ruckus random, free cars, undoubtedly of suspect provenance - but eventually, he just has to laugh, pressing his face back against Ruckus' sternum to stifle it. "'s fuckin' ridiculous." That's all he can really say about it, the situation in general. Kellen, apparently judging from the lack of raised voices and things getting thrown that it's safe to leave his room, does so, but quietly by his standards, just walking through to throw away his food trash and get another beer. Leech lifts his head enough to project his voice into the kitchen. "'ey, while yer there, put this shit away so it doesn' go bad." Kellen might grumble at this order, but since he'll likely be eating that food more than anyone else, he does as he's told, giving them both a narrow look as he collects the first batch of chinese food.

Ruckus: He gives a low rumble of a laugh for Leech's amusment at the absurdity of everything, hand stroking up his neck to tangle fingers into the short pink hair, the busted one resting at Leech's waist line though it's starting to throb again. "Ya ever fucked in a Cadillac? Outta try that." Kellen entering the room further adds to breaking the bubble of serious they've been sitting in, smirking for the kid getting ordered around like an abused maid, knowing full well he deserves it. The look from the boy is matched with a squint through impossibly pale eyes from the couch, the fingers in Leech's hair rubbing against his scalp possessively until he leaves. "Fuck, can't hold out, gotta have drugs." He admits with defeat, as if he had anything to gain by not taking them aside from control of his mouth, apparently.

Leech/Kellen: "I don' believe I have...never had much in the way'a car sex. Prolly be cosy, they got those huge backseats like couches..." He gives Kellen a grateful look when he comes back to round up the remainder of the food, and Kellen catches the look enough that his scowl fades. Leech sits up in response to those words, grunting a little with the effort, and peers over the overloaded coffee table in search of the requested drugs. Not finding them there, he eventually goes for his backpack; luckily it's close enough that he doesn't have to move from the couch, just stretching a little farther to hook it and drag it closer to rifle through its contents. "Y'know, now everytime yer gone, I'm gonna picture you livin' in stupid-expensive cars like a hobo. You jus' park one in every city an' use em like condos?"

Ruckus: Ruckus nods, as if he's decided fucking Leech in a Cadillac is something now vowed to make a reality, like his life is the strangest version of Make a Wish foundation requests he could think up. Leech has been thankfully careful in physical contact, avoiding anything sore and sensitive, but the thought of being higher than a kid out on Rumspringa has a certain appeal, he must admit. He sneers for the suggestion of car living, reaching up with his now free hand to rub over his face, "Fuck, no more 'bout all that shit. Makes it weird, thinkin 'bout it." As if having Scarface amounts of money is like an embarrassing thing he did in college and now frat buddies bring it up at parties, never letting him live it down.

Leech/Kellen: Leech snorts at that protest, still pawing through his bag. "You started it. An' it's weird either way." Beyond weird, really; he can't quite wrap his mind around Ruckus having secret funds, much less copious secret funds. He's pretty sure Ruckus has had the pants he's wearing right now as long as Leech has known him; why wouldn't he buy new ones? Eventually unearthing the correct pill bottles, he sits up to open them in sequence, handing the dose from each off to Ruckus (and perhaps stealing one or two for himself). "Ya need something to drink?"

Ruckus: Ruckus can't argue with that, as much as he wants to, but right now he's just too drained from everything else to work up the effort. "Jus' don' look at me like ya know." He asks begrugingly, like someone begging the kids in the back seat to stop fighting after hour four of driving. He shakes his head for the question, downing them dry with a hard swallow and pulling Leech back down to him, apparently content to just zonk out here and not have to make the complicated journey back to the bedroom.

Leech/Kellen: Leech isn't quite so hardcore, utilizing a bottle of water someone left on the table to swallow his stolen goodies. He doesn't object to being dragged back down, but he does place himself cautiously to avoid any of the various wounds, which makes for a sort of serpentine but nonetheless comfortable pose atop Ruckus. His head finds the uninjured shoulder easily and he presses his face against the side of Ruckus' neck, surreptitiously enjoying the man's familiar, oddly comforting scent. "Sure thing. 'least no one can accuse me of marryin' you fer yer money." He doesn't appear to mind the idea of passing out on the couch, since he fits easily just about anywhere.

Leech: It's been some time since Leech has fallen asleep easily as a matter of course, but having had Ruckus around for nearly a week now, he's starting to become accustomed to passing out without difficulty. Usually the man's presence keeps him from waking at little nothings, too, but it isn't a noise that wakes him up this time; it's the workings of his own brain. Snapping to on the couch, he feels like he's woken the split second after someone stopped screaming. It only takes a second to realize that if any screaming was going on, it's inside his head, and Leech tries to ignore it, climbing off of Ruckus cautiously and making his way quietly to the bathroom. A few moments later he returns to the living room, somewhat calmer (on the outside, at least), and instead of reclaiming a place on the couch, he moves to sit on the edge of the coffee table nearest Ruckus' head, leaning over to brace his forearms on his knees and watching the man sleep, gnawing on the inside of his lip, for some short time before reaching out, just lightly grasping a wrist in an attempt to wake him up without violence.

Ruckus: Ruckus, in turn, hasn't been sleeping next to Leech or anyone else for quite a while, doesn't have a Kellen to keep his side occupied even. Thus, the absense of Leech on his torso should wake him, but the painkillers do their job of keeping him unaware of most things, thankfully, and he doesn't stir until the touch to his arm, and even then there is an initial full-body jolt of someone snapping awake to fight-or-flight response. Luckily, he doesn't take a swing and instead blink blearily and squint at the kid now perched on the coffee table - not where he remembers leaving him. Before he says anything like 'the car stopped? Better put my shoes on', he takes note of the tense stance and wide eyes and tries to remember what this used to mean. "'ey?" Is all he gets, but it's questioning enough without asking if everything is okay, when it obviously isn't.

Leech: Reading the undertones of that question, Leech realizes that some of his inner turmoil must be showing outwardly. He takes a deep but silent breath, forces his shoulders to relax, face smoothing over - but he forgets to erase the concern from his eyes. His voice is steady, though quieter than it needs to be, since it's not as if anything will wake Kellen up. "Hey, come to bed. Passin' out on the couch prolly isn't doin yer leg any good." Since Ruckus is himself longer than the couch. Shifting his hold to Ruckus' shoulder, the uninjured one, Leech does his best to help lever the man into a sitting position and then, hopefully, onto his feet; in the meantime not noticing that the line of his back has gone tense again.

Ruckus: Ruckus has found that on this plane of existance, he is too big for most furniture. Or maybe all the furniture is just undersized and he's normal. It is strangely getting more and more habitual to lean on Leech for support all the time, but he can't do much about it than suck up the pride and accept the help, balancing with a hand cupped over the tiny shoulder and hobbling along to the bedroom, resisting the urge to just pick him up and carry him like they've so often done. Once he's close enough, he just lets himself splay out across the mattress, pretty much always dressed for bed these days with nowhere to go, carefully arranging his busted doll parts and holding back from reaching out to the little parasite to join him.

Leech: Leech moves along slowly with Ruckus' semi-limping pace, not able to stop himself flinching when the man tumbles himself onto the bed so carelessly. It doesn't seem to have done him any harm, so Leech lets him get situated, stripping off his own shirt and then sitting at the foot of the bed to get his half-unlaced boots off, not having disrobed at all after he went on the dinner errand. From Ruckus' current vantage, it's probably very obvious how knotted the muscles in Leech's shoulders are, and how stiff his spine. With both boots and socks off, Leech digs his palms into the mattress and shoves himself back to the pillows, not bothering with removing his jeans yet, just collapsing backwards with a very little sigh.

Ruckus: The stiffness from the couch is setting into his bones, although he's still slightly under the influence and it helps to take the edge off. Something tells him the rigidity of Leech's own body isn't from the nap on the sofa, and even groggy, he's trying to come up with the way this goes down usually. He's a bit out of practice these days. He has to look up at the kid from where he's laid out, unable to shake the sleepy squint from the other room, busted fingers acting on their own and making a reach for the tiny wrist, mirroring the action that roused him in the first place as the digits that can still bend encircle the appendage, "'ey, you. Lookin like it's yer unbirthday an ya hate the teaparty."

Leech: For all of the three seconds he's been lying here, Leech was staring at the ceiling, but his focus changes when that wrist is taken, lowering his eyes if not his head to look musingly at the busted fingers. "Never have liked tea..." Like he's come to a decision suddenly, Leech rolls and slithers up against Ruckus' side, tucking his face between a bicep and the comforter, while the trapped wrist reaches over Ruckus' stomach for fingers to curl around his ribcage. He manages to stifle the high-pitched, urgent whining noise that wants to come out, but his distress is still apparent, even if not as obvious as it would have been five years ago. "I don' wanna do this again." Not able to look at Ruckus (he knows he hates this shit), Leech keeps his eyes closed and face mostly hidden against that arm.

Ruckus: He is totally not lucid enough to properly deal with this. Or maybe that helps. He isn't sure. But like years before on a blanket nest in a warehouse loft, his first instinct is to gather Leech to him like someone he intends to save from a burning building, though right now it's not as physically comfortable as it usually is, not to mention Leech is a tad more built these days than the skrawny little street urchin he started as. The pull in his shoulder aches sharply at the motion but he wraps Leech in both inked arms, curling him toward his larger frame as if protecting him from an explosion, "Arrite, kid, yer right here."

Leech: Luckily, Leech hasn't completely given over to panic yet - better at warding it off now, his breathing is still fairly even. The inside of his cheek, however, is being chewed to hell. There's a quiet groan for Ruckus' words, and as he's manhandled closer, Leech still does his best to avoid tender spots - fitting his legs between Ruckus' with one wound beneath the shin that's still in tact, tucking his head cozily under the man's chin, while his arm tightens around that waist. "'m always right here, 's not the problem." Recognizing the petulance in his voice, Leech bites at his tongue viciously, managing to sound more logical and sane when he speaks again. "Only...I can see now, why ya didn' tell me before. 's bad enough when ya leave, but now I know why yer leaving. Killing...dangerous people..." Trailing off, he shakes his head slightly, pressing his forehead hard against a collarbone and focusing on inhaling and exhaling in rhythmic succession.

Ruckus: Ruckus has to backtrack a little at Leech's calmness, as usually, by now, he'd be a vibrating mess of tears and heaving breath, and while he still isn't the picture of zen, his boy has obviously learned to cope. He breathes a quiet, 'fuck' for Leech's concerns, this time unable to blame his confessions from earlier on lack of sobriety and wishing he'd held back. But, hay horses and all that. "Shouldn'a told ya. Don' want you thinkin I'm out dodgin rounds left an right while drivin a boat with topless hostages, jackrabbiting through the mob heirarchy er nothin." The attempt at amusement is weak, but he rubs carefully but firm over the curved spine, pressing his face against the fuzzy scalp.

Leech: Squinching his eyes shut harder, Leech's shoulders twitch uncomfortably at that description, but he tries to go along with the humorous twist even if his voice has no inflection. "No, I didn' ever imagine ya drivin' a boat." Enough to say that dodging rounds and the mob hierarchy probably fit into his worries somewhere. There's another quiet exhale through his nose, something almost unnoticeable on another person but quite a sigh for a Leech, and his fingers unconsciously curl, gripping at Ruckus' back. "I jus' don't like...bein' without you." He says this fairly hopelessly, knowing that it won't matter to Ruckus' plans; the guy's already made it clear that he doesn't have any change of plans in mind and that once he's healed up, everything will go back to how it was before he hunted Ivan down.

Ruckus: Well maybe some of that is true. Just not all at once. One has to have balance. The tighter clinging is noted, trailing his more compliant hand to curl at Leech's bicep and give little squeezes along the way, perhaps an effort to untense some of the tight wound nerves strung all through him. "Ain' so nice alone out there neither." It's a quiet admission, muffled a bit by his face pressed up against Leech, lipring nudging slightly with each word. "Miss sleepin on the floor with ya." He doesn't mention that he remembers Leech being smaller.

Leech: The fact that Ruckus actually admits that Leech's loneliness isn't just one-sided should probably help, and maybe later it will; for now, it only makes the parasite's throat feel tighter and he presses his face harder against the man's chest. He wants to say, So don't go, but that will not get the response he wants, so he stays silent, being something closer to his younger, clingier self. Though consideration for Timothy doesn't consciously weigh in on Leech's feelings right now, it does play a part, hovering in the background - Leech hasn't actually spoken to the kid since Dust called from the hospital, has no idea how that situation will lie, but after the past week he knows that he won't be able to promise what the kid likely wants to request: there's simply no way Leech could cut Ruckus out of his life for good. Even if Ruckus' presence is only seldom and sporadic. Realizing that he's veering dangerously close to the edge of true panic, the parasite sucks in a deep breath, loosening his vise-grip on Ruckus with effort, and mutters barely audibly: "I thought you were dead."
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