Tap…tap…tap. tap. taptaptap….Murphy's heel bounced up and down against the cheap carpet of that two-bed motel room that he and his brother were to be staying in for a while to come. He wasn't exactly impatient in the sense that he was waiting and expecting something—he knew Connor shouldn't be home for another few hours at least. What was getting to him was the heat. It was too damn hot for mid-Spring. Even with the air conditioning going full-blast he felt sticky with sweat and grumpy with fatigue.

Then add to that another discomfort. He was so hungry he was seriously considering devouring a part of his own arm for some sort of relief. Would Connor bring back food, or would Murphy have to go out in that horrible, hot weather to scrounge something up for himself? He hated doing things for himself. It took the fun out of getting it. He found it much more amusing bugging Connor for something than just getting up and getting it himself.

Murphy held a gun to keep his hands busy. There wasn't much else that they carried with them that he could "play" with to occupy him. Last time his hands had been so unused, he'd made his own scalp bleed by scratching it too much. Connor'd given him hell for that. Murphy smirk at the memory until a low rumble shook his belly. He was so hungry!!

He hadn't eaten since the day before, he was sure of it. And now, because of that, his stomach made angry noises that translated as "Fuck you, Murphy! Stop being a fucking anorexic." Of course, his stomach has as bad of language as he does, it only makes perfect sense.


Once they were past the train tracks and walking down Cajon Blvd. Connor was quite proud of himself that he'd managed to keep his young friend smiling—even though it was that dreadfully fake smile, it seemed to be the only one she knew, so he lived with it. The only reason he had stopped walking was because he felt Malise suddenly tug his arm. Her stride had halted so he came to a sudden stop beside her. The look on her face was startling in the least. The abrupt adoption of a troubled frown had Connor's heart in his throat. It felt so strange for him to be afraid of her, but that's how it was. She just switched so easily that is made him truly believe that her laughing and smiling was all a façade; a play.

Once he'd gotten past her sudden fearful gaze, he followed it with his own until he saw what he was sure she saw. The diner she'd been speaking of called The Mug stood in all of its quaint, small glory on the side of the road with a wreath of bustling, excited crows around it. It was apparently these people that made her so intimidated that she couldn't move to take another step.

"What's wrong?" he asked dumbly. He felt drastically left out on some information vital to understanding the situation, and he was an info-junkie. He needed to know what was happening: when, where, why and how. That's just the way he was brought up.

"Nothing…" It was obviously a lie, and I very much doubt I had to tell my reader that. "On second thought, maybe we should get take out. Chinese sound good?"

"Sure, I gotta get somethin' fer Murph anyway…Who…?"

"Some cousins of mine that I seriously don't want to deal with right now." She tightened her grip slightly on his arm for just a moment and Connor could almost swear that it was because one of these particularly frightening people looked over at the two of them. She took in a deep breath before tugging him back towards the train tacks. "Where do you live? I'll try to think of a place near there."


Un-fucking-believable! Murphy's foot had just completed its seven hundred and twenty-fourth tap when his stomach made its loudest, most alarming groan yet. "I'm gonna keel over an' die real quick," he muttered, putting his hand over his angry belly. To distract himself, he put his hand in his pocket and proceeded to fish around for something divine to chase away the annoyance and utter boredom in his head.

How the fuck long had he been sitting there? He checked his wrist that he then realized didn't not have a watch. With a slight chuckle at his own stupidity, he remembered the few beers he'd had that morning—completely forgetting that "noon rule" that Da had tried to enforce once. Few…no wait…it was more like the entire six-pack. Oh damn…it was the entire six-pack and Connor was not going to have anything nice to say about that.

While Murphy was laughing at himself, he leaned over the back of his chair—he was currently sitting backwards. He reached across the table for the holster that held his gun and as he was pulling it towards him, something black rolled from underneath it. Murphy picked up the little black bottle that said Nail Polish and thought for a moment. Then he looked down at his overly-grown toenails on his bare feet and thought a bit longer…Well, why the hell not?

After thirty or so—if not more—minutes of awkward bending and blowing cool air on the paint to let it dry, Murphy sat back in his seat with his feet propped up on the table, staring proudly at the stubby little digits that were now decorated with a shade of black… Yeah, he was bored and when he was bored he did things that might be on the border of batfuck nuts. He put his hand behind his head and puffed on his cigarette. (If you're wondering when he had time to light a cigarette in the midst of painting his toenails for the first time in his life, your guess is as good as mine.)


The sounds of University Pkwy's traffic faded into almost nonexistence when Connor and Malise were finally wandering through the hall of the motel. Ever since The Mug Diner, Connor had yet to make her smile again. He held two Styrofoam containers of Chinese food that, after much bickering over the bill, Malise had paid for.

"So I get to meet your brother?" she stated awkwardly as Connor worked at balancing the boxes on one hand while fishing through his pockets for his key with the other. "Is he as fun as you?"

"Ya think I'm fun? Well, that's a relief. I was beginnin' ta think ya thought I was an idiot. An' if ya want fun, me brother's the one ta see." For some reason, he couldn't find his key, so he tried his coat pocket—the coat which he now wore on one arm. After a moment, he almost lost the food as it teetered dangerously.

"Do you want some help?"

"Nah, I'll get it. Don' hurt me pride." He laughed ironically and then suddenly gave and "AHA!" while taking a little, silver key out and putting it in the knob. "See? Tol ya I'd get it."

Malise made a half-hearted laugh as the door swung open inward. As soon as the two of them were inside, they were almost in pain with how cold it was in there. Out of nowhere, a man ran up to Connor and almost knocked him over.

"Yer an angel among insects!" Murphy exclaimed, taking a container from his brother. It smelled like Chinese food—thank his hunger-heightened sense of smell. As soon as he noticed Malise, he grabbed his brother's chin and kissed him on the cheek while he then discreetly took Connor's coat.

As Malise stared, a bit off-guard because of this display of affection, Connor noticed the guns sitting on the table. To distract her further, he made a show of reaching around her and shutting the door while Murphy tossed the coat on the table—over the weapons. "Who's this, Conn?" Play it cool.

For a moment, Connor found himself as distracted as Malise, except his focus was on something else entirely. "This is…uh…" He stared at Murphy's feet. "Malise, what's that black stuff on yer feet?" Abruptly, both Murphy and Malise looked at her shoes curiously. Connor shook his head sharply. "No, her name is Malise. Murphy, what the fuck's wrong with yer toes?"

As Murphy sat down with the food, he straightened his knee to lift his foot for all the world to see. "I got bored…did ya know ya got Nail Polish?"

Connor shook his head and set down the container. "Murphy, ye an' me are gonna have ta share that."

With a sudden sour expression, Murphy slid the Styrofoam box closer to himself. "Murphy…" Connor had a warning tone. "Don' ya act like that. This is fer Malise, so we have ta share."

A pink tint rose on her cheeks. "No, you don't…I don't need it. I'll eat something when I get home."

"See?" Murphy opened the box and immediately took out the fork. "I like her. She knows what a man needs when he's been starvin' all night an' day."

"Like it'll hurt ya ta skip a few meals."

"An' just what the fuck's that s'posed ta mean?"

Connor shoved his shoulder playfully and smirked. "Malise, ye paid fer it, go ahead an' eat it. I'll eat later." He went deeper into the room and turned on a light that Murphy had kept off for sake of coolness. One look in the mini-fridge made him grunt in annoyance. "Where's the beer?"

"Well, ye heard him, Malise," Murphy stated, motioning towards the other chair at the table. He smiled when she sat down stiffly. He ignored Connor's beer-problem and shoved a bite of rice noodles in his mouth.

"Murph, seriously. If I don' have a beer I'm gonna pass out."

"Ya shoulda thought o' that b'fore ya left me home alone fer hours on end."


Nicholas: I would like to dedicate this to my aching fingers because they put up so much strain today while writing up a fanfiction for a book I just finished reading. And then, they still held up enough to write this chapter. Thank God that they healed in the time it took Becki to get on line and I can type an author's note. Applaud for my enduring fingers!!