Carlos faintly remembers when his mother loved. He remembers when their minds weren't corrupted and haunted by all the gruesome images they've seen through their line of work. He remembers when her face was all wrinkly because of how much she smiled. Now her mouths always twisted into a scowl or into a straight line. But it's hard for him not to love her. He remembers when he was young and he'd twist his ankle, she'd come running like a bullet. Now it's patch it up and keep moving. And he gets that. He truly does. But she's demanding now, a bit abusive, more physically then verbally. But she says it's to toughen him up.
And he believes her.
So he's a bit astonished when he walks into their petite motel without the hide of his catch and she doesn't slap him.
He carefully closes the door behind him, making sure it doesn't slam. He drags his feet to the kitchen. Its counter is piled with dirty dishes that Carlos will undoubtedly have to clean. He sighs and unzips his pack open. He pulls out his gun and gently places it into the drawers. He then pulls out his bottle of moonshine and place it in the cupboards. He later grabs out his weapons made of sliver and hides them under his pillow. He slides the empty pack under his bed when the door to his mother's room clicks. He freezes.
"Carlos," Her voice is low and filled with expectance. "did you get that werewolves hide I had asked for yesterday?"
"No ma'am" He says. She sighs heavily in disappointment and Carlos's heart chips a bit.
Just a bit.
"Carlos it's just a simple werewolves fur! I shouldn't be that hard to get!" She growls, she's grabbing at her hair and pacing the room. It makes Carlos anxious.
"I know, it's just.. They're advanced and fast. And it's the big city so it's not likely for them to be here. And it's in to mornings and they hate the mornings and." His mother shushes him with a growl.
"Well, common sense says you obviously go in the night, Carlos."
Carlos swallows." But.. by myself?"
"Yes by yourself, don't be a wuss they're not even that bad."
"Yea but," He snorts; grabbing back the backpack and his needed weaponry. It's heavy and nearly brings him to his knees when he slings it across his shoulders. "that's like.. suicide,"
He assumes she doesn't care about his well-being when she snorts and heads back to her room.
"Get me my damn coat or you ain't getting shit for dinner,"
He sighs heavily and readjusts the bag on his shoulder He's out the door in the blink of an eye.