"What am I to you?" Wes inquires suddenly.
"The kid who needs to get his ass off my desk. I didn't scrounge for that just for you to get sand all over it." a gruff voice barks from behind a newspaper. Well, mostly behind. No amount of paper could ever hope to conceal his boss' massive form.
"You certainly didn't mind it before." he teases, an all-too-familiar sly smile eeking its way towards his ears, as he shifts his weight on its surface for emphasis, "and it was much worse than sand, then."
Gonzap shuffles his paper dismissively, masking his discomfort with a cough.
"Nothing is worse to clean than sand. But, seriously, kid. I thought we agreed you weren't going to make a big deal of this. It distracts from your work."
"I lied." the boy muses.
"Shouldn't lie to your boss. Now move."
"I'll move when you answer me."
Gonzap sighs with exasperation.
"Well, you're our best snagger, a damn good lockpick," he chuckles before continuing, "a good distraction."
"And...?" Wes continues to probe, clearly dissatisfied with this answer.
"And stubborn as a mule." Gonzap quips, his voice laced with irritation.
The snagger adjusts his position once again, as his posture drops. He isn't sure what answer he was expecting, and berates himself for even thinking the older man would be forthcoming with him. After all, the man was old enough to be his father, and they both knew it. Of course he would keep his distance.
Of course it was all business, with only the faintest undertones of making do with what they had.
In any other situation, Wes would have had his choice of anyone. There was no disputing this fact. But as it was, he was surrounded only by men, and lowlife thugs at that. The burly Snagem head was no saint by any measure, but he was the only one he could trust. For all his faults, Gonzap cared for his men, the young snagger especially. Indeed, the mere act of tolerating Wes' spontaneous visits was the closest anyone in this position could come to coddling.
Certainly, he was the only one Wes would offer himself to, though why was a mystery even to himself. Trust only explained so much of their unusual relationship. Perhaps that was why he was so probing, seeking answers he couldn't find himself.
"Where would we be if I wasn't, though?" Wes returns.
His question is met with a bitter chuckle.
"Very, very poor."
"So it'd be no different, essentially?" the boy jokes.
"Well I wouldn't have this fancy desk."
"This fancy, unspeakably filthy desk."