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"... And I wouldn't care so much, but that's business for you.
Something that always gets in the way of life's little pleasures."
Yeah. He's thinking about a lot of them, right now.
Bullseye keeps glancing at the wall.
It is easy to pretend it is marginally more interesting than anything else in the open-air dining room.
Whatever it's called. Patio. Mezzanine. It's regrettably well-put-together, but that's Daken for you.
Or just for him, because this is some kind of endurance test. Get a man trapped in an open room, you win something.
Maybe a medal, something three-dimensional printed and stuck right to your chest, deep enough to -
"Go on, Lester. You were so engrossed with what I was saying, just then!
I could feel it radiating off you - "
"Fuck off,"
Bullseye answers too quickly, and instantly regrets it.
Not because he didn't want to say those two words, but because he's met Daken's eyes.
There's that very bemused glint to them that says, got you.
He grinds his teeth like he ground the ice cubes in water that tastes tappish. He chews over words, too.
And he's been chewing over a lot and Daken already knows that.
"Or, at least tell me why you brought me somewhere that makes the fast-food Italian place looks appetising."
"Fast-casual. It's a charming little place, so I'm not surprised it upsets you.
Come on. You know exactly why we're here. And don't bore me by saying, 'I've killed people for less.'
Don't worry! I know."
It's one thing to really hate a man, and in the moment he hates Daken's peaceful smile more than -
Well, he's pretty practised when it comes to hate. But that's the name of the emotion, nothing else.
Thing is, he's - Bullseye always has his eyes on.
And there's always something happening.
Lots or birds flying over head, picking at each other for scraps they aren't carrying.
Siren in the distance, the kind that usually heralds something funny having happened -
Kid in the open-air booth behind them, stringy red hair, staring at them like she cares.
Giggling from time to time, because it's just two fuckers talking, kids eat that shit up.
"... I can take care of my own engagements.
And I don't recall asking for your help, and when we do it always goes so well.
Butt out."
Snot-nosed kid giggles, and he shoots her a glare. She laughs harder, and claps.
Grumbling soundlessly, Lester turns back to their stupid hexagonal open-air table.
Daken has neatly placed his hands to it, back to his usual smile.
Maybe it flickered for a bit, maybe not. But if he missed it shift, Bullseye thinks, he fuckin' hates that.
"I... Don't think I suggested otherwise, Lester. Dear.
You misread me so often, lately. It's starting to follow us around like a bad habit.
Let me spell it out for you, I'm not worried about your competency, I'm worried about you reflecting on things.
And that means - "
"Like you, for instance?"
Daken doesn't do eye-rolls, he doesn't give Bullseye the pleasure.
So all Lester gets from the exchange is a slight, 'hmn-hm' of air from Daken.
Non-committal nonsense that could mean a lot of different things.
"If that's the answer that helps you sleep at night.
When business goes bad, it doesn't matter how good a piece is.
And you're the kind of piece that lures himself into a forfeit - every, single, time.
Consider it pre-payment for some of the things you owe me."
"You, if anything, owe me."
Lester bristles, and behind him kids' parents are arguing.
Father looks like he's having a stroke in real-time.
It's so damn loud, every breath he's panting out sounds like a male-order (heh) pipe-organ.
Not that the woman's much better.
Kid's still laughing, so at least one of them has a good sense of humour.
"... And I'm just telling you, the Pierside King is a real threat, Gloria!
WOMEN and CHILDREN have been KILLED! Hah... Hah, that's so terrible!"
Daken glances dismissively over Lester's shoulder. Normally, Lester'd raise his up a bit -
Go for blocking the view. But he relents and eases it down so Daken can get a clear look.
The two are losing it, actually losing it. Bullseye knows he's smiling, and really wants to say something.
"Usually, this is a much nicer venue, Lester. I hate it when this happens."
"Yeah, uh-huh, whatever.
We going to listen to the chronicles of how the Pearshaped King killed a bunch of kids, or get going?
I'll take a to-go bag, but I'm faulting your taste. Pretty rare to see you slip-up."
That gets right under Daken's skin, and makes it all worth it.
But, Bullseye takes note of the little frown, to, and grits his teeth over the remnants of ice, and stops fucking around.
Okay, fine, so it might actually be something notable.
He motions to the nervous attendant who just whimsically wandered up, and who leaves just as fast.
"Daken. You actually worried about something? How about, you stop fucking around and - "
Angry howling sounds are vibrating from within the wife's throat.
Maybe she's a mistress, actually. Maybe none of them are related at all.
It strikes him as being moderately funny, until she just keeps expectorating complaints.
Coughing them up one after another, talking about danger in the streets, danger on the net...
Danger in the skies, danger goddamn everywhere.
"You know, Lester, I can hardly hear myself think. You, we're leaving."
Now, when Daken implies that, the restaurant-crony materialises out of the sunlight.
Smile plastered to his face, like Bullseye imagines a lost toy might wear if it spotted an old owner.
Daken pays quickly, but doesn't tip.
Bullseye keeps laughing to himself all the way out -
Right until they've left the open-air patio, as if it were nothing more than a loud memory.
"Kid was gone."
"I have been waiting for you to speak instead of just stare around so wildly, and you say that.
Explain, Lester?"
He doesn't feel like explaining, but it's actually annoying.
So he chews the words until they're a fine paste, tapping his finger against his side because he should've taken something.
Like a momento, yeah, the kind of thing that said 'shitty restaurant, but I lived through it.'
"Just, those two were so loud, and yet they did not seem to notice for a second, their damn brat wandered off.
I guess it just rubbed me the wrong way."
Bullseye shrugs, matter over, but Lester knows the moment he spoke - Daken is smiling. Like a goddamn clawed beast.
"Oh, did it. Well, that's interesting, and it relates to what I was talking to you about.
You were listening, weren't you?"
"Nnhg."
Weather's hot, feels like something stupid ate the sun and turned it into something worse.
A good part of him imagines the sun as some kind of enemy, therefore something that can be killed.
He pantomimes his fingers in a gun to the heavens, but doesn't waste even a rock on the effort.
It's just too damn hot, and Daken is still talking.
"... But now that we're out of earshot, do you get how childish you're being?"
"Try saying that again. I was just starting to get in a good mood.
Now you ruined it - wait. Wait, wait, wait."
Fortunately, if there's any redeeming factor about the man, it's that Daken's killing instinct is a clean thing.
Calling it beautiful wouldn't fit the mood he's in. Bullseye finds it respectable when he feels like giving respect.
Lester is just glad he doesn't have to waste too much time on effort on the obvious.
"Hhn... Hhn..."
Some guy, barely fit to be a thug for a middling turf-warrior, is melting from sweat under the summer sun.
Full costume, shitty mask he made himself, doesn't convey much besides desperation.
And he's got a knife, and it's one of those mall-knives that Lester regrets having purchased but can't regret owning.
He's holding it like a man who once stabbed a dying rat, and thought he'd seen the eye of god.
"I'm, Pi - "
Schunk. Suddenly, guy is blooming a shaving of rebar from his throat.
Bright red and dark red bloom together, crawling out along the rusted metal.
Daken smiles warmly at him, at Bullseye, that is.
"Oh, a flower, you shouldn't have. Where were we?"
"You were still trying to convince me that there was some kind of poor decision I'd been making.
Reckless, which actually suits your M.O. more, or maybe you just got angry at something I don't care to understand."
Neither of them pay much attention to the gurgling sound which goes silent quickly enough.
But Daken's eyes narrow the moment they hear the other sound, from behind the pier.
... Lester recognises it instantly. No way.
Kid is huddled in the corner, either having wandered in at a bad time, or just having been snatched.
Daken is already knelt down, coat from over his shoulder, looking as if he's been just fine.
He's no stranger to the heat, of course, and probably wouldn't try to pick a fight with the sun.
Bullseye snorts, but Lester can't help but remind himself that Daken doesn't care what happens next.
Pushing past the crouching Daken, who is already going through the motions, Lester stares into the kid's wide eyes.
"Good thing we got here quickly, huh? Was that funny or what."
And the kid bursts into laughter. Maybe she thinks it's all a magic trick, maybe she likes his head in the summer heat.
Maybe she has a great sense of humour, and will grow up to be a fine member of society.
Daken is staring into his back, but Lester shrugs.
"Just roll with it. I don't want to waste any more time."
He does and they do, leading the doe-eyed kid all the way back.
She stops to stare at him a few times, but Bullseye has already given his one, curt, mandated nod.
The heat awaits them, and the city looming over as if to say - you only escape this when one of you relents.
"Oh, Lester. I never knew you had a way with children, too."
"Isn't that, it'd just follow us around like a lost dog, otherwise.
Besides, you were going to go through the laundry list of things you're supposed to say -
Check on this, check if that happened, and if the kid makes too much noise, cut it's throat."
Daken doesn't quite laugh, but he might be smiling. Bullseye pretends to stare up at the sky, again.
"You know all about that, don't you?
I'm still - "
"And you're STILL hung up on Tac, yeah, I know. Jealousy is too obvious for you, right now. Daken.
What, precisely, are you beating around the bush for.
Because right now, it is too hot for me to even think about killing you.
That is the sole reason..."
Sometimes, he feels like he's watching a different Lester through cracked glass.
Like his own smaller body, don't think like that, is being re-modelled by the heat.
Daken is frowning, and the miniscule tug downward mark it as genuine.
Bullseye tugs at his own throat, and would cut right into it if it weren't so hot.
Mercifully, thankfully, Daken sighs, and stares up at him, half-smiling.
"If you'd just listened from the beginning, I was concerned.
That's the long and the short of it. When bad things happen to people like us, I make a note of it.
One of the few things that I genuinely believe keeps you from being interesting is when you...
Let's call it tunnel-visioning? When you do that.
Maybe I shouldn't have been playing around with you so much.
Even if it is fun... It's too hot for that, today. Isn't it."
He bites his lip. He bites his lip 'til blood comes out and he hates losing, so much so that he wants to scream.
But he doesn't, which makes it his win. Lester's win.
"Yeah. Let's go grab something."
Daken doesn't answer with words, but looks victorious as Lester tells himself he feels.
Eventually, the sun'll go down. Eventually, the win will be his.
And he hates that he can't tell if he doubts a single word Daken said.