"I thought I told you to kill him."

"You did," Eliot Spencer said evenly, looking him straight in the eye. "I'm refusing to."

Damien Moreau poured a small amount of bourbon into a glass and shook his head. "The man is a menace."

"Flores is a good man who hasn't done anything to you."

"He bothers Ribera." Moreau swallowed half of the dark liquid and gestured with his glass. "That's good enough reason."

"Then kill Ribera," Eliot replied with a shrug. "He actually deserves it."

Moreau walked around the table, keeping his eyes on Eliot. "I don't understand why this is bothering you so much. You've killed innocent people before, a lot of them on my orders."

Eliot frowned and ducked his head. "I've been doing a lot of thinking, and…"

"I don't pay you to think," Moreau snarled. He flung his glass against the floor and watched it shatter, the bourbon spraying across their feet. "You are here to follow orders, my orders, and don't think for a second that I'll tolerate insubordination!"

"Damien." Eliot's voice was sharp but quiet, and his control cut straight through Moreau's anger.

Moreau sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "What do you want? Is it more money? Women? New challenges? Name it, and I can get it for you."

Eliot shook his head. "I don't think I can do this anymore."

"Maybe I'm not going to give you a choice about it. I can always demote you and make Chapman second-in-command."

"Or, I can always kill you right here and just leave," Eliot said with a smirk.

Moreau blinked and laughed. "You wouldn't do that."

"And you aren't really going to make me stay."

"No." Moreau collapsed into a chair. "I know you better than that to think I can force you to stay."

"What are you going to tell the others when I leave?" Eliot sat down across from him and grabbed a glass, splashing some bourbon into it.

Moreau waved a hand through the air. "That you decided to leave. That you're interested in doing something different."

"You aren't worried they'll see you as weak?"

"Of course not. I would be more worried if you stayed and continued to not follow orders."

"True." Eliot took a sip of his drink.

"So, where will you go? Back home to the farm to marry your high school sweetheart?"

Eliot's eyes darkened, and he looked down at his glass, his fingers clenching around it. "No. She married someone else, and I don't belong there anymore."

"But you don't belong here either." Moreau smiled in amusement. "I don't understand you, Spencer."

"I like you, Damian." Eliot smiled ruefully. "I just need to find something else to do with my life. Maybe help people instead of hurt them."

"You're going soft, Spencer."

"And that's a bad thing?"

"If you're going to be in this business, yes." Moreau sighed and leaned forward. "Take care of yourself, Spencer."

Eliot swallowed the last of his bourbon and placed the glass in front of Moreau. "Don't worry about me."

He got up and left the room. Moreau ran a hand through his hair and considered the glass in front of him. He shrugged his shoulders and poured some bourbon into it, settling back into his chair as he drank it down.