"What the hell are you wearing, kid?"
They had been getting dressed. They'd woken up to see that it was 3 in the morning. Nate was wearing the "neat" hat he had found at the marketplace a few days ago, and bought it along with an extra large, thick, fuzzy brown sweater. Sully would've asked why Nate would've bothered with buying a sweater in the heat of a summer in the Yucatan Peninsula, but he figured out awhile ago, it's best not to question those types of things.
"It's called a fedora. It's cool." He had been looking into the mirror, his back turned to Sully. His voice didn't crack, or even sound scratchy, or a little bit quieter. Nope, the kid was a great actor. It didn't matter though, he was a fine with a laid script in mind, but he still could work on is method acting. Sully of course, had seen his eyes when Quint and Strike were killed. Sully's only known him for a few months. He knew he wasn't used to everything yet.
If he could set a time for when the kid should watch a man murder six people in front of him, and when he should watch him murder 15, he would. But he can't. And Nate seems to think he doesn't need any set. And he probably doesn't truly need it.
But it'd save him a hell of a lot more sleep.
"Right." Sully let his sarcasm wade through the room before getting up and going to the door of the restroom.
Leon Quint was dead, and now so was Rich Strike. And with their bodies in said bathroom, surrounded by pools of blood (that've probably dried a bit by now) Sully wondered exactly how they would execute his plan. It wasn't a good plan. It wasn't a solid plan. But they didn't have many other options, really.
"Are you gonna open it or just stand there?"
Sully's eyes flicked up at Nate. Nate flashed a thin smile.
"I mean. I'll be honest, I've been holding it for hours now and," he turned from Sully and finished packing his backpack.
"I still haven't completely gathered the courage to pee in front of two corpses yet."
Sully pulled his gloved hand to the knob.
"I'm gonna try to remove their finger pads. Then you can take care of your problem." Sully closed the door, and slowly turned to the scene before him.
He was glad that Nate hadn't come in. The smell was awful, of course, and the tile had strings of deep red stains near the door that trailed to the bodies that lean against the bathtub ledge.
He slowly knelt down next to Strike's body and began working with his knife, slightly pushing through the skin, like peeling an apple.
"Just like peeling an apple."
He repeated with Quint and then laid them in the bathtub.
He opened the door and walked to put his gloves away.
Nate was looking through his notebook.
"So those are…"
"Finger pads."
"Where'd you learn to... do that?"
"...I have a very particular set of skills…" Nate rolled his eyes and grabbed his things, putting on his backpack.
"That movie was awful."
"I liked it." Sully finished packing. Before they walked to the door.
"Wait aren't you going to go?"
"Nah I found a bottle."
"Where?"
"I saved one. I told you to always get the fridge drinks, you never listen."
They made their way out the door.
"The glasses taste better."
"No, they don't."
"They have ice."
"So ice makes everything better? As soon as it melts you get watered down syrup."
"So you gotta be fast." They went down the stairs.
"Exactly. And you gotta finish right then and there. Glasses aren't portable."
"Yeah they are, Nate." He gave the lady at the front desk some cash.
"You know what I mean."
Sully smiled as they exited the hotel.
Nate said quietly,
"We looked natural as hell, don't worry."
"Yeah, well, as soon as we get to the next hotel, make sure you board it up with something, alright?"
"Jeez. We're fighting men in suits you know? Not zombies, Sully."
He gave a dry laugh.
"Ah well...Ya never know, kid…"
"That wasn't in the job description."
"What? You don't like surprises?"
"Hell no."