He was exhausted from it all. Honestly, the unending strain, the pressure of having to continue like this, day after day, in a fashion akin to conformity… it was all so droll. So… boring. And Anakin acknowledges that yeah, maybe it's because I don't have any friends, because I think people are stupid, and I don't understand them but… it's still frustrating. It's all so frustrating in the most stereotypical way and there doesn't seem to be a means of avoiding it at all.

So it's no surprise that the framer's found himself walking out of the local tattoo joint at sometime between eight and midnight, his eyes too bloodshot to focus well, head hazy and all but spinning as he tried to focus on the surroundings. It'd come to a point where the lights started to blend together, the buildings, even the faces of the townspeople that he couldn't place on a normal day, let alone when his head was… spinning.

But the pride of a new tat- a lovely, tribal pattern marring the patch of skin on the side of his upper right thigh- is more than enough to shove away the momentary stress of it all. He just isn't accustomed yet… in awhile, right? Not too much longer. Everything was just… just so goddamn hazy, like static in front of his vision, and all the man really managed to think was a am I drugged? before he was being shoved up against a brick wall, his back hitting concrete hard as he attempted to stare at the figure pinning him.

"Who the fuck are you?" He barely chokes out, half horrified and so near to screaming, before realizing it may not be the best of phrases. His hand tries to reach up, push against the other's chest with a soft, "Yeah. Whatever, man… fuck. Okay, you know what? I'm gonna leave now. Thanks."

"Nah, mafiaman," a rough voice snickers, too deep for anyone not to be able to belong to anyone but Inigo. A toothy smile broke out on his face, forcing the young boy to stare back up at him. He looked so cute like this, trying to look tough and unaffected by this, but is betrayed by the fear lurking in his light coloured eyes. Inigo almost wished he had a camera. "You're gonna play a game with me, little buddy."

Forcing the boy down to his knees, face pointing away from him, he roughly yanked the man's straight red hair back so that his neck was completely exposed and forced to stare up at him. Anakin- he was sure that his name was this.. it had to be- looked so young like this, childish features appearing so prominently. He'd be attractive if he wasn't a traitorous piece of shit. "Mmhm, what lovely tats you got, Anakin.. that's your name isn't it? Pretty unique name- easy for the medium and the morgue worker to remember when they have to lower you six feet under."

It's a rough, pained curse that forces him to remember where he was. They weren't somewhere private yet.. people could be watching. Random townie and the likes could easily confused this situation for something other than an execution for a murderer- and Inigo couldn't have that.

"Up on your feet, Anakin.. let's go somewhere nicer.. you like the secluded areas, yeah? Spend a lot of time by yourself at least.. what? Too special to spend your early adult years with your other piece of shit mafia chums?" He chuckled, watching the boy wiggle in distress, trying to figure out how to escape. It was a useless try.. he had a gun hidden under his coat that he was willing to remove the second that he tried to run or overpower him. He refused to let anyone run from him. "...no matter I guess. They'll be joining you in hell shortly. Should enjoy the silence while you can, Ana. Eternity is a mighty long time."

"Please." It's not a 'please' that's made in a begging manner, more the sort the framer thinks someone would roll their eyes to. "I'd rather you not lump me in the same category as them, thanks. It might make you think worse of me…" he trailed off, feeling a hand gripping his side, gun pressing against the small of his back enough to cause a rather intense discomfort as he shifted slightly. A cold shiver ran down his spine, hands sweaty as he slid them into the pockets of his pants.

"That being said though…" he starts, when he feels the man (vigilante? Had to be) pushing him along, until they can make their way over to a rather discarded alley, the other peering in just for precautions, he presumed. Anakin tilted his head to the side, shrugging. "Congratulations. I mean, you just caught the most useless mafia member. You seem to know already that they won't miss me. Do me a favor and just put the bullet in my head, kay?"

He's being serious. Anakin doesn't know if the man's taken his words into consideration at all, if he's even listening, with the way he suddenly drags him off the street and flips him around so he can stare him in the face. The twenty-nine year old lets his eyes widen, slightly, before attempting to conceal the look with a muted frown, turning his head away. "You've got a couple nice piercings yourself. Not as good as mine though… let those be my last words. Just do it. It's not like I can really do anything…"

"Mmhm, well.. no. You said about five more sentences afterwards so. Tough break, kid. 'It's not like I can really do anything' is your last words. Sucks. I'll tell them to add 'Just do it' too, if it makes you feel better." It's a weird, out of character joke, something the thirty something year old man has always struggle to do well with. Oh well.. the unfortunate audience that gets to hear his attempts at being funny typically die soon after so who really gives a shit? They're all filthy murderers anyhow.

"Take off your clothes," he said simply, rolling his eyes at the disbelief leaking from the boy's eyes. They always looked cute when they were like this.. he couldn't lie. "I don't like forcing our poor sheriff or doctor to have to take it off during the autopsy. So, you get to. 'sides, you're not even worth the linen you're wearing, be happy I'm being nice and letting you strip yourself."

He wasn't even sure he had words for that. It all seemed so… unreal, somehow. Aside from the rather fierce aura of hatred that was practically emanating from the vigilante's body, eyes appraising as he taps fingers against his arm, waiting. There's tingling under his skin, his eyes wide as he lets fingers tangle with the hem of his shirt, frantically wanting to hyperventilate, sink a knife into the man's body… "Uh-huh. Yeah." Anakin states simply, without a shred of inflection, turning around to shrug off the unbuttoned overshirt, before pulling the thin black wifebeater over his head and letting his fingers fall to the button on his jeans. "Not so sure that's your reason though. Maybe I'm overthinking things… doesn't matter, really. It's like you said. I'm dead in a few minutes, so regardless- it doesn't matter."

Letting his thin, pale hands undo his jeans shakily, he let them slide down his inked thighs until he could step back, pull away from the pile of clothes on the ground, and turn to face the man. Inigo? Was that his name? He thinks he's heard it before- at some point. Isn't sure who from, but the framer had never been one for idle gossip. "Alright." He breathes, simply, crossing his arms over his chest. "Have fun."

Inigo turned around briefly, tossing the clothes inside a dumpster and raise an eye at the near naked man. He was doing so well too.. he just forgot one important garment. They all usually do.. no one ever seems to want to completely do as he tells that. Selfish bitches wanting to die with dignity. "Panties."

He doesn't know why that's what finally makes his hands shake, trying to control his breathing. Because, yeah, maybe he should've figured that out in the first place, but- fuck, he didn't want to be completely exposed to a fucking townie again. Let alone when he was about to get a bullet in his brain. Still, Anakin sighs, wrapping fingers under the waistband of his underwear and pulling them off, tossing them onto the ground as well. "Yeah. Fine." He sighs, watching the older man do away with everything he was previously wearing, before standing back and pulling himself up to his full height. "You gonna shoot me now?"

"Soon… patience, my dear murderer," he tsked, tongue clicking off of the roof of his mouth. "You almost sound like you want to die. Don't you want to have some last minute entertainment before I force this lovely steel into your mouth and you're reunited with.. god, space, other ghosts, I don't fucking know? But if you insist.. I can make this go a lot faster."

There's a flinch. Just slightly, gone the second it was there, but.. he saw it. He actually saw Anakin flinch.. and it was beautiful.

"You just got a new tattoo, huh?" he asked, an uneasy smile going on his face. "Why don't you show me? Story time with Anakin!"

He stood up, fumbling with the glock. "Go ahead, man. Criss cross style, sit on your ass. Show me all your pretty little ink stained patches of skin. I'll show you my piercings if you behave like a good little boy."

"Wow. Sounds peachy." Anakin stated blankly, staring at the man with an almost vacant expression. He was… really fucking annoying. Like, really. Loudmouthed, confident, almost egocentric in the aura he was giving off. Kind of like Jaina and Vita, who were in all likelihood, his two least favorite people in the world. Inigo could give them a run for their money. Anakin raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue, cut off when he just gestured for him to sit down.

"I'd rather be shot, thanks," he said, looking away from the older man with a half-scowl plastered to his face, Shutting his eyes. "Unless you're into some weird, kinky shit… but I'd rather you used my corpse for that."

Inigo's face fell, scowling at the smaller man. Well, wasn't he just a peach? He considered putting a bullet in him now.. a warning one at least. The shit needed to learn to have some goddamn respect. "That's revolting," he muttered, digging into his pocket to reveal a small pocket knife. He held it out to the young boy, watching the man stare back at him wearily. Rolling his eyes, he dropping it into the man's lap.

"If you're not gonna play fairly, Anakin.. sacrifices must be made. You ever given yourself a piercing before? It's not too bad, is it? Nah. You got quite a set of them already.. ears, eyebrows.. Missin' lip, navel, cock, and uvula. Which one do you want? I'd gladly help you, Anakin. Would be a shame not to do whatever you want just moments before you're forced to eat a bullet."

"So that's it," Anakin aimed a glare at the man, gripping the handle of the pocket knife experimentally until he could hold the blade closer to his face, look at the reflection of moonlight glinting off the cold metal. Honestly, he'd done his ears like that… but anywhere else? Fuck, couldn't it kill him? He wasn't a particularly big fan of pain, despite what everyone seemed to think.

Raising his head to stare at Inigo, he barely managed to force out a "Fuck… fuckin' hell, man." The framer sucked in a breath, glancing back down to the pocket knife, dragging his finger over the tip of it. He almost- almost- wanted to cry. Not that he would, of course- this was basically a death sentence. "You do it," he said finally. "I'll let you choose- wherever you want. Just… fuck, I don't know."

Inigo chuckled underneath his breath. He really didn't think that the boy would go through with it- no one ever seems to. Typically they try and use the knife on him the second he gave them it, oh well. There was a first time for everything he guessed. At least he'd have some fun watching the boy give himself his own piercing. "Mmhm.. nipple? Those are always sexy as fuck. What do you say, Skywalker? Up for being a good boy and doing this?"

The framer was close to rolling his eyes at the other's antics. Was this normal behavior for townies? It was unsettling. Nonetheless, his fingers danced over the blade of the knife, pulling it up to his chest with a half-quirk of his lips. He really wasn't sure what possessed him to do it- excitement? Fear of dying? No- he wasn't sure. Didn't have a clue, really.

"Wow. Like I haven't gotten those jokes before," Anakin finally commented, angling the tip of the blade under his nipple. "Needle would've been better. Still, whatever gets your rocks off, I guess. You're lucky I'm open to it."

Inigo reached an arm out, scratching the top of the boy's head affectionately. It was so cute that the boy was so open to just sitting in front of him ass naked, half hard, with a dull pocketknife pressing downwards on a pink nipple. Almost humorous, really. Anakin was considered to be one of the weaker mafia members, a baby in regards to the large amount of thirty and forty year olds running around. It'd be a shame to have to kill him. No matter, there were a shit ton of other younger residents.

"What a lovely tattoo, Anakin," he said simply, flicking his pierced tongue at him without even acknowledging the quiet yelp the boy gave. He bent down, hand moving down to run against the tribal tattoo. "Is it new?"

It felt… wrong. Having the vigilante so close, hand running over his exposed thigh, tracing the pattern of the tattoo almost teasingly. Anakin shouldn't have shivered- it gave away too much, how the other's touch affected him, made him want to curse. The knife nicked the side of his nipple, a small amount of blood rolling over his chest as he shut his eyes. And then there was a hand on his back and he was trembling, arching away from the touch instinctively, eyes going wide. "What are you…? Fuck- don't… don't touch me like that. It's... "

Inigo smacked the side of his face, a scowl appearing quickly as he hissed out a nasty, "Don't you ever dare tell me what the fuck to do, you worthless piece of shit. You're not in any position to be giving anyone orders."

And with that, he grabbed a fistful of the man's hair and pulled back, ignoring the pained groan the man gave, kicking the front of his stomach hard until Anakin arched forward, curses escaping his thin lips. He… he didn't like being told what to do. Didn't like people in positions even attempting to tell him what to do.. it just didn't feel right, felt unnatural. No one was allowed to. Especially not some ginger haired bitch like this.

"You.. ever tell me what to do.. speak to me like that.. and I'll blow your fucking knee caps open and leave you to die. Understand?" He smiled widely.

Anakin barely had the strength to give a light nod, putting his weight on his hands as he tried to pull himself up from the ground. It fucking burned- the pain in his side, the smack to his cheek… fuck. He didn't want this- to be completely at the mercy of a man he neither knew nor understood.

"Forgive me… I wasn't thinking." Anakin coughed out, looking up at Inigo, not meeting eyes with him. As far as he could tell, the man had an ego. Aggression. It was… different than most people he'd been near lately. Did he want…?

"Please… continue. Do what you want. I can't- I can't deny you now. Fuck- just…"

In a whimsical voice, Inigo mused, "Have you ever wondered what would happen when you die, Anakin? How'd you feel.. how others would feel about your gruesome and long death..? I think about it a lot, if I have to be honest with you, buddy. Doubt there's anyone in the whole wide world that thinks about it more than lil ol' me. Got no family, no real friends.. guess no one would come to your funeral to shed some tears."

He laughed. Loudly. It seemed almost sadistic to say it, honestly.. but he'd prefer to be honest the most he could in life. The man was going to die, why sugar-coat it? "Me? Well, I'm married, have two kids, and a shit ton of chums. I'll die with kids to carry on my legacy. You, on the other hand.. hope you're not forgotten too quickly."

He raised the gun to his forehead, amused by the slight flinch the man gives him. Shame he had to die- he was a good listener. Not too many left. "Anythin' you wanna say? Wished you got laid more, had a better hand at life?"

He almost laughed- there was a crack in his voice, a barely audible chuckle escaping the framer's pursed lips, looking up to the older man with a fixed frown, expression firm and callous. Should he say anything? Anakin never knew what to say… what to say other than made up emotions, or how to figure out another's personality.

He finally let a smile pass over his face. "Believe it or not, I never wanted to join the mafia. But nobody else would've taken me, Inigo. Don't you see?" he barely acknowledged it. It wasn't entirely true- but maybe if he could play the pity card… "You seem to know a lot about me. You should know I don't have friends, don't talk to people… don't have sex. Does any of it matter now? I didn't really care before… didn't expect to die so soon. But… I suppose that's what happens, isn't it? To people who are unwanted."

The younger man paused, licking his lips without much of another look at the man's face. Giving a muted sigh, he barely reached up to the vigilante's leg, letting fingers tangle in the fabric. "There are other things you could do… before you kill me. Other uses I have…"

Inigo raised a brow, amused at the almost desperate look on how face. Kid didn't want to die.. wanted to prolong his life. He really couldn't blame him.. really didn't want to blame him, but… still. The kid should've realized he was going to die. Acting like this was just plain annoying. He had things to do before the sun came up.. Elodie and Rosie were going to be up and realize what their precious father was doing.

"Yeah? And what's that kid?"

Before he could say anything, Anakin's hands were wrapped firmly on his pants buckle, snapping it apart so he could press a light kiss against the soft bulge trapped behind white cotton.

Oh.

That's what he wanted.

"And how do I know you won't just bite it off so you can escape, kid?"

"If I wanted to hurt you, I would've tried already." Anakin barely acknowledged, tilting his head to the side, hands gripping the man's flat hips, just enough to pinch but not hurt. He gave a short glance to Inigo's face, flicking his pierced tongue out as an almost taunt. "I mean, if you're worried, you could just turn me over, fuck me yourself… no teeth. You know… whatever floats your boat, man."

Inigo smiled, widely. "I have something better… something more arousing for the both of us."

He pushed the man back down on his back. The ginger looked scared for a moment, staring up at him wide eyed. It looked attractive on the man.. he almost wished that he had more time to stare back at him. Oh well. "Well? Start fucking yourself, sweetheart. A nice jack off session before your death."

So he was still going to shoot him. Anakin's breath was shaky, unable to keep himself from quivering at the feeling of his back hitting the ground. Inigo's words… they were just… he didn't. He couldn't do that… not like this.

The framer's hands gripped his shirt, attempting feebly to push him away the best he could. His movements were quickly stopped as a fist caught him in the jaw, a hand forcing his head back. He wasn't even sure what was going on, but…

Slowly, the younger man let his hand slide between his thighs, glancing up to Inigo for some sort of signal. "What… what do you want me to do?"

"Fuck yourself." He said, simply. A playful smirk appeared on his face, caressing his soft jawline. Anakin still looked so scared.. like a child trying not to be punished. It was too amusing for him not to let out a sharp snort. "You're a big boy, aren't you? Surely you've done this.. would it help if I got you something like a hose?"

"How the fuck do you know about that?" the framer hissed, eyes suddenly narrowed into a piercing glare, hand pressed against the man's shoulder as an attempt to keep space between them. "What, have you been stalking me or something? Wow. I wonder if that's a new low." Glancing away, Anakin gave a tiny glance to the discarded knife, head tilted to the side completely as he tried to focus on anything but the vigilante.

"Fine. You win. Do you want me to jerk off or finger myself?"

"Mmhmm.. all you have to do is type your name into the Internet and it's the first thing that comes up for you, sweetheart. Not too hard to do when I'm trying to find out about scum fuck mafia members like you."

He leaned forward against bopping his nose with his fingers. This was certainty turning out to be entertaining.. he had even tried to escape once yet. A new record for him. "Finger, jerk, suck yourself.. I don't really give a shit, kid. Whatever you want. Your funeral. Though.." he chuckled. "I'd prefer it if your mouth wasn't covered."

Anakin furrowed his brow, slightly confused. Did he expect him to… make a lot of noise? He probably wanted it. Probably gets off to it, he thought to himself, refusing to look at the man. No- this wasn't supposed to happen. Not like this… he shouldn't… fuck, the mafia was going to be so annoyed.

He shut his eyes for the briefest of moments, fingers sliding around the tip of his length, giving an experimental tug before letting his eyes flit up to Inigo. He was almost smirking, seemed too amused with the whole thing… it was almost laughable. He hadn't expected the beloved vigilante to be such a deviant.

Skirting his hand lower, Anakin pushed a finger against his entrance, eyes focused on Inigo to gage his reaction. Sliding it in rather abruptly, he couldn't keep his hips from bucking up, almost letting a moan slip loose, if only because he wanted to see the other's reaction. Should I indulge him? He had to question, letting another finger push in to settle beside the first.

"What are you thinking?" the framer asked, blankly, devoid of feeling. "Tell me. Do you like my supposed 'weakness'? So desperate to live that I'd actually want to fuck some sorry filth like you? It's perfect, isn't it? Being m-manipulative. It's why the mafia wanted… wanted me."

Inigo's face fell briefly. Did he really think that this was sexy..? The be honest.. it was anything but it really.. sure, he could easily be turned on by his obvious trying, but it sounded like a fourteen year old girl trying to turn on her much older drunk boyfriend.. someone needed to teac- no, on second thought.. he'll be dead in the next few minutes, might as well go along with it.

"Mmhm.. very sexy, lovely yes.. look at me, Anakin.. Yes, look at me," he forced the boy to look up at him. "Didn't you say no one wanted you? Did you lie to me, Anakin..? I think you did.."

He didn't ignore the confused squeak the boy gives him, tapping the man's cheek. This was going to be fun. "Apologize. I want to hear the sincerity in your voice."

He couldn't do it. For what it was worth, Anakin barely knew how to apologize- it always seemed like empty words. And they were clearly wasted on Inigo- there was nothing to say to him. He was… disgusting, frankly. Maybe it was wrong of him to think, but there was really no way around it. He didn't have anything to say to him.

"Nah, man." the framer said, simply, barely acknowledging the look of annoyance on his face. Pressing himself forward until his hips were against the other man's, breath hitting his face, he pressed his mouth to his ear. "Not unless you beg me to apologize. I'm not sorry. Never am."

Inigo glared harshly at him again, his knee going up until it connected with the boy's dick and balls. There was a loud groan from Anakin at this, forced into his knees with tears staining down his face. "Listen here, sweetheart- already said I didn't take orders. Not from you. Not from nobody. So, what makes you think that it'll work this time, huh?"

His gun is repositioned so it was pointed squarely at his mouth, hand shaking almost. He needed to learn respect.. "Open your mouth, kid. Suck on what's going to end you.. take it inside your filthy little whore mouth."

"Mmhm," the younger man practically purred, fingers tangling in the vigilante's hair, letting his lips part to take in the cold metal pressed against them, feeling the harshness of the object as it slipped into his mouth. Curling a leg around the back of Inigo's thighs in an attempt to bring him closer, he offered the man a muted laugh around the barrel. Shoot me. Shoot me. Go on.

Inigo scowled, did this piece of shit think he had any real power here? No. He was just a useless soon-to-be corpse.. him trying to fuck with him would no way in hell ever fuck him up.

"Nice try, kid," the vigilante flicked his tongue at him, almost growling. "Gotta say.. if you were anyone else, anywhere but here, I'd say you have balls.. but you don't. Not enough. Say goodnight kiddo."

Before he could pull the trigger back, a searing pain began crawling up his thighs. He cursed, loudly, dropping the gun and turning away to nurse the wound. "Motherfucker-"

"Clearly you missed something. Got ahead of yourself, man... shame, too. I liked the sound of your voice... the mindless rambling was almost endearing."

Anakin tried to catch his breath, throat aching and closing up almost instantly as he struggled to pull himself up from the ground. He spared a glance to Inigo, watching the vigilante try to nurse his wound, keep the bleeding from spreading. "Oh, yeah. Sorry for stabbing you. Just for the record."

Inigo struggled to grab the gun again, barely able to look up and start firing in random directions in hopes that he'd be able to hit something. It seemed useless, he doubted he managed to hit anything.. fuck, he worried about it ricocheting and hitting him. He didn't want to end up getting killed in the name of justice..

His head felt heavy, spots obscuring his vision as he sunk back against the wall. Time to pass slowly, his breath slowly down profusely as blood poured from the wound and in between his fingers.. the man wondered if it was a lost cause or not to keep holding on to it. It didn't hurt as much as it did, though Inigo suspected it's probably endorphin or some shit like that. Didn't really know- he typically slept through those classes.

He briefly closed his eyes, trying to calm himself down enough to hear the faint sound of someone talking in the distance- their voice quiet but filled with worry. It made all the bells go off in his head, weakly screeching out for help. Fuck.. was there a chance that he was talking to Anakin? No, no, no.. fuck. He couldn't. He needed to fucking die. He couldn't live.

Anakin couldn't.

It didn't seem like he was aware of anything, slumped against a wall and clutching his side. It was enough that they couldn't really do much more than force him to lie on his back, hand on his chest, telling him to breathe. His voice was shallow, cracking as he struggled to keep talking. It was too much- too much for them to take in, all at once, as they tried to lift the larger man into their arms, struggling to carry him.

"Shh, Inigo. I'm going to get you back to the clinic- okay? Don't- don't speak. Save your energy. Just... please. Focus on breathing, okay?" Their voice was soft, so much they weren't sure if he could hear them.

It takes awhile for them to stumble up to the door of the clinic, opening it quickly and practically forcing the older man down onto a thin cot, hand on his forehead. "Slight fever. I need to get the bullet out. Don't move."

His vision was completely a bright white, slowly coming to normal when he finally noticed a lone figure standing over his body, speaking to himself. At least.. he thought it was a man. Looked sorta feminine, but the shoulders made him come to the conclusion that he was a man. His body tingled, though felt overall numb and pleasant. He wondered if he was drugged.. felt like it, really.

"Where.. fuck- my head," he tried to sit up, confused at the sight of bright red staining a large bandage over his thigh. Fuck- the knife. Anakin. "Wh-where the fuck is he? T-the murderer?"

"What murderer? Did you run into a serial killer?" The doctor asked softly, before turning around only to see the vigilante trying to bring himself to his feet. Quickly pressing a hand to his chest, they steadied themselves so they could look down at him, watch the anger flicker in and out of his eyes as he tried to push them away. "Sit down. Do you want the swelling to get worse? Don't make me give you more anesthetic. It was hard enough to stitch up while you were asleep."

They looked toward the window, where sunlight was barely visible behind the white curtains, barely noticeable as it rose above the town. It had been another long night for them, Reza thought. Too long, really- would've been considerably longer if not for the visit of a friend… but that was a memory to be saved for another time. Right now they had a vigilante to focus on.

The irate man seemed to have listened to them, though- lying on his back, not moving, leg rigid as he blinked. "Now. Can you tell me who did this to you?" The doctor asked, sitting gingerly in the chair beside the bed, grabbing for a small cup of water from the table. "Maybe this will help. I gave you some percocet for the swelling yesterday- knocked you out for a bit, but you looked like you could use the rest. It's Inigo, right?"

"Yeah.. fuck-" he nodded, stretching his body out more. Hearing him speak made his head even hurt worse. Inigo felt like shit.. too much so for the thirty six year old man to handle. "Fuck.. it hurts so fucking much. H-how long was I out for? M-my.. fuck. My kids?"

He cradled his face with his hands, groaning loudly against the pillow. His eyes burned from the harsh lights and the warm stare the man was giving him. Fuck.. how did he know his name? He didn't like keeping IDs or anything like that on hand.. would've revealed who he was. "Inigo, yeah.. y'know.. like the guy that said, "You killed my father. Prepare to die!" Inigo guy?"

He didn't know if the joke made sense to anyone but him, but he still laughed, groaning at the dull aching feeling he got in his leg from it. "Anakin.. fuck. H-he stabbed me, the piece of shit."

"Yeah, I've heard your name before. Think it was from the jailor- said something about you working to protect the law in one way or another." The doctor looked up at him, pausing when he saw Inigo squirming against the sheets, pressing two fingers to his head. "Lie down. Stay still. Do you want some sunglasses? I know the lights are a little bright, especially if you've been out for a couple days."

Reza didn't wait for a response, grabbing a pair from the side table and sliding them onto the man's face, poking his forehead with a finger, before relaxing their hand on it. "No fever now. That's good. I think you'll be fine- just need to wait for it to heal up." They gave a tiny smile, before turning over what the man had said in their mind. "Anakin... that's tattoos, right? Got them all over the place? Red hair?" They paused when the other man nodded. "So, what happened, then? Mafia? We can talk to the mayor, if you want- once you're feeling better and are decently rested."