When Mick catches up, Ethan pauses to turn back to him. "Anything in particular you want, or you trust my judgment?" Thoughtful, surprisingly. "Figured we'd eat up top. I'll get it from the ground and bring it back up so you don't have to...slowly...make the trip." He grins like the smug idiot he is, keeping the phone near his face as he waits for his answer. Restaurant noise can be heard in the background, and a very familiar woman is yelling. It's pretty easy to guess exactly who that might be, given all that was experienced there last time.

"Slowly? Please," he says it like he's offended but he can't help but smirk back at him. This asshole over here was gonna be the death of him.

Ethan had a point though. Mick wasn't exactly the fastest when it came to anything. Except sniping, of course. That was his fucking forte. He prided himself on that.

"Fuck it. Get me a few of those dumplings we 'ad last time, if they give you some on the side. So long as you don't get me anythin' that'll kill me I'm fine with whatever you get us," it's true, worked out last time Ethan ordered for them.

"Right. Và một số bánh bao. Rất nhiều bánh bao." He finishes the order into the phone and hangs up before pointing up to the roof. "Half hour, tops. Want to heat on up?" Without waiting to hear if protest is given he heads straight for the fire escape, leaping up with ease to snag onto the platform's edge and draw himself up. He lowers the bottom ladder for Mick and waits for the sniper to follow before he draws it back up to avoid suspicion. He follows to the roof and takes a look around, figuring they'd better scout it out somewhat. There's only one direction a car could come from, though, which makes it somewhat easier.

"City doesn't look half bad from up here at night." Krieg glances out across the sea of lights before looking back to Mick. "You'd almost think it still had some life in it."

There was always something special about the view from a roof, Mick always thought. Nearly dumping his gear on the floor and barely caring for once, he took in a deep breath of fresh air before sighing as he dug around his bag for his remaining cigarettes, frowning at the sigh of a brown smear on the edge of the carton.

But it was forgotten when he looked out over at tops of buildings as lights started to glitter out and act like grounded stars.

"S'why I sometimes love my job. Not only do you get a view, but sometimes you can actually feel like you'll cleaning it up with every corrupt politician and wanker you take off the street and keepin' it pretty," he shrugged. "Or at least it's 'ow I like to think of it."

"I like it up here, too. Lots of my training I do up here 'cause nobody bothers me. I like to take it in, rest. Sometimes I actually fall asleep on my roof, but that's another story." That explains where he might disappear to, some nights. "So...this life, what comes with it. You ever wonder what it might have been like if you took some other path?" Really, he's thinking about his brother again. It's been on his mind a lot recently. No need to dredge that up, though. He glances to Mick, now standing beside the man with arms crossed as he examines the city he's come to call home.

"Sometimes I wonder what it would be like, like...being an average Joe. Just some citizen working a normal job."

"Not really. When my mum and dad died I spent a long time doing nothing and realized it was absolutely boring. Grandad was in the army and I was encouraged when my nan could care for my sister without needing me. My whole life was centered around bein' a soldier and criminology. It's what I'm good at."

Didn't mean he didn't think a lot about being a civ, hell, his sister was already engaged and moving on to England with her fiance'. Bless Jenna, she was ignorant to what he did and that was something that kept him solid. That little piece of family was all he had left.

"But it never hurts to dream about it, I suppose. Can't help but wonder, specially with what we are, eh?"

"Yeah..." Ethan trails off, deciding that since Mick was so open he owes the same. It isn't something he talks about much, though. He glances somewhat nervously to the other man, then back out across Detroit. "I, uh...well, with a surname like Krieg, you have to wonder what my family was up to. It isn't one I chose for myself. I was born with it. My dad was a hitman, too. So was my grandfather. My great-grandfather. My great-great grandfather, my great aunt...in this family, you kill or you attempt a normal life and die young. That's just how it is...how it was. Just me now, though. So that's ok, I guess. But...I knew early on what I'd be. So I trained and I got there. I just...made some mistakes along the way, I guess."
Mistakes that got him cut open for most of the day for months on end while the cybernetic surgeries were completed. But Mick has no reason to know that, yet.

"We all make mistakes, mate. You're only human."

Human, that's what keeps Mick moving. He's prone to making mistakes and fucking up. That's how he is, a depressed, PTSD suffering human. And it makes him comfortable knowing that. He'd do what he does, grow old, remember the good old days, or get caught during a hit and killed. Its a fact of life he's accepted. Mortality is comfort.

Stretching out tired muscles he keeled down, legs sore from being on them all day as he rested out and leaned back on his hands, eyes never leaving the view. "Ridiculous, innit? Spewing my stuff like that," he adjusted to sit cross-legged. "We've all got out baggage though. Do what you can though, right?"

There's a bit of a bitter laugh from Ethan, but he gives a nod despite it, gaze falling as a huff of air from the nose is the final noise he makes in answer before speaking. "Right. Human. Completely, totally human. Flesh and blood and bone." He takes his queue and sits beside Mick, legs somewhat messily sprawled before him. Shortly after, he draws them in to sit cross-legged, but it looks like it takes some effort. Maybe an old injury gets stuff in this position. Someone like him has to have those, right?

"Yeah. That's all we can do." His gaze moves over to scan Mick's face for a moment and his lips part as if he were about to ask a question or make a statement. He can't quite figure out what he wants to say, though. Instead, he finds himself looking at the sniper for more than a moment longer than he meant to, something bubbling up from his chest in wordless fashion, an urge to make itself known never the less.

"Hey, Mick?..."

"Yeah? You alright?"

He blinked, watching Ethan both with interest and confusion. Generally, people didn't ramble on when someone called them human. He cleared his throat, ticking his head to the side and waited for Ethan to finish what he started to say. The way he was looking at him made him nervous. He started tapping his figures on the roof to distract himself.

Oh, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Shit. Goddamn it all. Don't do it. Don't you fucking do it. Don't you-

He does it.

His movement is sure and without further hesitation, almost like none had existed to begin with. The gap between them is closed as Ethan abruptly leans over until he's inches from Mick, a gentle inhale all that stands between him and what he's about to do. It's over in an instant, his eyes drifting closed, and it transforms into a kiss as his lips move to press softly against those of the man before him.

It's a gentle thing, hesitant only in concern for the reaction it might receive. His lips are soft, his breath warm, the sensation of stubble faint against the skin. A moment's pause to breathe, now mere centimeters from each other once more. His eyes open slowly once more, searching for a reaction and hoping the limb he chose is not about to break. There's no smile on his lips, only a faint neutral line of wonder as he waits and watches.

Well then, that was unexpected. Also the first time he'd been kissed since Prophet died.

Brown eyes are wide and Mick swallows, processing what just happened like an old computer. He's confused, maybe a bit scared, as he tried to figure out what to do. The last time someone even tried he panicked, Prophet's death still too raw and open and in the end he was reminded that he was alone.

"I-," He honestly doesn't know what to say to that. But he does know that, while spontaneous things generally freaked him out, the entire thing wasn't necessarily unpleasant. "Wot was that for?"

It's all he can stutter out.

Ethan's lips twitch into a quaint little smile, eyes narrowed happily to match. A hand raises, his fingers gently moving to thread through Mick's hair. "Do you ever really need a reason?" He has a point. Unless there's severe resistance, he draws Mick closer and presses his lips against those of the man in a sort of breathless passion. Has he fallen for Mick, or is this something else entirely? It's anyone's guess, but only the two of them can figure that out.
It's a sensual, slow thing, the contact only breaking faintly as he goes for more. As intensity builds his fingers tightem against Mick's head and his teeth gently catch the other's lower lip between them for a memt and a brief, gentle pull, inviting more exploration.
His lips part now, hoping Mick's will do the same. His free hand moves from supporting him to sneaking over to intertwine fingers with those of the other man...

Until a car horn honks from below and he pulls back, startled.
"GET A ROOM! AFTER YOU PAY FOR FOOD!" The delicery boy holds up the bag, smirking.
Ethan clears his throat and pulls away.
"We'll, uh...we'll continue that. In a moment." He stands and drops off the edge, grabbing the fire escape's railing and descending completely to leave a likely breathless Mick where he sits.

"Huh."

It's really all he can think when Ethan leaves. It was sudden and he still hadn't figured out how to react. It felt like parts of his brain just shut down and literally nothing was making sense for a moment. He licked his lips, unsure why as he just had Ethan slobbering on him but it seemed to help him think.

What the fuck just happened?

Running his hands over his face to try and snap himself out of it, the idea of food seemed to be enough to get his mind going. Just...he'd have to talk to Ethan later. Figure something out, maybe. More with himself.

"Did you get my dumplings?" he shouted over the edge, making sure the important things are addressed first.

"Yup!" Ethan calls back up with no hesitation, checking the bag as he answers. He passes over cash and a generous tip before he slides the bag's handles over his wrist and lightly jogs back over to climb back up the way he came as if it were no harder than walking up a ramp. His acrobatics are as lively as ever, although very smooth and controlled tonight for the sake of the food. He arrives and sits again as if nothing unusual had happened moments before, setting the bag between them.

"Extra dumplings. Fork in case chopsticks aren't your thing."

"Beautiful mate," Mick smirked, the sight of the food bag easily perking him back up. Rather ridiculous, but then again, he was allowed to have very minor confused freak outs. At least food kept him calm. And he was free to indulge himself. And why not, when he had the metabolism?

"So ah, impromptu make outs your thing then?" He asks, more out of curiosity than concern, peeling open the dumplings container before popping one in his mouth. "Not that I'm complaining, really, but would've liked a little 'eads up. It's just ah, it's just been a long time, y'know."

What isn't ridiculous about this situation, really? In all honesty, what's one thing about it that isn't? Maybe that's exactly why Ethan saw fit to take a chance in the first place. When Mick brings up the question, he's glad that the problem doesn't come up that he just made a move on a straight guy. It's happened before, so he's relieved that isn't the issue. He lets out a quiet laugh before reaching straight for a box of noodles and settling in to eat.

"Yeah, they kind of are. But...fair enough." He gives a faint little smile and takes a bite, studying Mick in silence for a moment. There's definitely a lot going on he doesn't know about, and it might not be his place to question it at all. "I mean...more than happy to do that again. If you're up for it." He takes a bite, not knowing what the answer is going to be.

Mick shrugged. "I wouldn't care. If you're up for it. Might be rusty," the joke is half hearted, but maybe it's time to let go. Jon died what, three years ago now? Still, even if Ethan has initiated it, he felt damn guilty. But he couldn't help it. "I just lost someone a few years ago and it makes this sort of thing a little uncomfortable. But yeah, wouldn't mind going at it again."

Frowning as he picked at the rest of his food, Mick sighed. "You know, this 'as been a lousy stake out. We've barely been paying attention. Might ah, piss off our very large and unfriendly new friend, eh?"

"I'd notice if a car was approaching, I promise. Besides, it's gonna be a while, I bet. We're fine." He reassures Mick and settles back with his legs crossed before him, eating in comfortable silence before he asks a question that might be over the line. "What was their name? If you want to tell me, that is." There's always going to be that hanging in the way if it remains unsaid. Maybe it's time it is spoken of.

"His name was Jon, but we all called 'em Prophet. Man was damned good, 'e was incarcerated for a few years for killing a child molester. Which, naturally, perked my interest," Mick let out a bitter laugh. "You'd think it'd be easy to hide, right? Relationships within your teams are usually frowned upon. My boss at the time was a good man, close friend of mine. When 'e found out he turned the other way. Thankfully, I might add, 'cause my job was the only thing keepin' me here legally at the time. But inner corruption mixed up with bad intel and Coop getting himself done in. New boss ordered Prophet's transfer, because God forbid they lose the only man who could take down a unsub from a mile away. Didn't find out the man 'e killed's brother got to 'em until months later."

A frustrated huff paired with the realization that he'd been stabbing his dumplings as he spoke made him sigh. "Sorry, I don't talk about it much and when I do I spew it. Fucking ridiculous, all of it."

Ethan listens in steady silence before he gives a nod and speaks up again. "No, no, it's good to talk about shit like that. Listen, when shit like that happens? It doesn't matter how much of a badass you are. It's gonna stay with you. And that doesn't make you any weaker, man. It just hurts, and it reminds you that you're alive and you're alone even if you don't want either of those things to be true." He gives a faintly reassuring smile before reaching over to pat Mick's hand.

"And you never forget people like that in your life. Ever." He retracts his hand and finishes off his noodles with a satisfied sigh before snickering and barely containing his laughter into the back of his hand. With a sly little grin, he glances to Mick. "Hey, normally I'd be worried about the food and the spices for something like this, but...normally you only get half of the usual Asian spice, you know? But you've got a chance at what should be roughly 90% of it now."
oh my fucking god ethan.

The comment makes him snort, and makes him glad Ethan's got a sense of humor. Not that Mick wasn't shy of one, but after getting all that off his chest he could use the laugh. Even if the joke was damned horrible.

"You're somethin' else, E. Guess that's a good thing, eh?"

Finally grabbing the last mutilated dough roll, he smirked before finishing it off. He wasn't the biggest fan of ethnic foods but it was starting to grow on him. And well, if he planned on staying around for a while, he should get used to something. At least the dumplings were good.

"You know it." He finishes off his noodles and sets down the carton in the bag with a pleased sigh before he reaches for one of two fortune cookies. How could anything be complete without them, actually authentic or not? He peels the wrapper open and takes the cookie out, cracking it open. He eats it before reading, backwards from what many people seem to do. When he does read it, it's with his mouth full.

"Your smile is a curve that can set many things..." He snorts. "Straight." In bed? No, in his case, that tends to be the opposite of the truth. "Well then."

Why not indulge with Ethan, despite the fact that he rarely cared for what fortune cookies had to offer he couldn't help but want to participate. Hell he was having fun, and how long had it been really since he could say that?

"'A good way to keep healthy is to eat more Chinese food'. Well that's be 'elpfull if we were eating Chinese food, no?"

He doesn't bother with the cookie, just offers it to Ethan. He's not a fan of even slightly sweet things either, for a man who claimed to love food he was damned picky. The odd thing was, he didn't seemed to be bothered all that much.

If only all jobs could be like this, honestly.

Ethan accepts the cookie with a grin and eats it without hesitation. The man's not exactly concerned about gaining weight, after all. He glances at his watch, then out across the visible roads and the city again. "I think it could be a few hours until anything happens. Looks like we're stuck up here for now, although dinner was good." There's a moment of pause as he gathers up all the trash in the bag and makes it easy to dispose of later, shoving it out of the way and letting out a satisfied sigh. Silence for the moment, a faintly curious glance over to Mick. Whatever it's about is up to the Welshman to figure out. With Ethan being damn hard to read to those not extremely familiar with all of his different "settings," he's still got a ways to go until he knows it all.

"We do have some bit of time. S'gonna be a long night," he agreed, looking over at Ethan with a slightly curious brown gaze. As somewhat awkward as it was, he was surprised that he didn't feel obnoxiously nervous as he usually would. Hell, he hadn't even bothered to light that cigarette he pulled out earlier. Strange, he wasn't a chain smoker by any means but by now he's be craving nicotine like a bastard. Now? He was just comfortable.

"We could probably do something to pass the time. Though I forgot my board games and rifle's packed away so I guess there's 'onestly not much we could really do that's super fun."

He hoped that was enough to point Ethan in some kind of direction.

"Well..." Ethan pauses for a moment, a gentle little smirk settling across his face again. "What do people normally do on rooftops? I mean...we could tell stories, invent some game to play on rooftop stakeouts, ask Siri random shit, make out, make fun of our third wheel, wherever he went..." He's...definitely a unique individual, that's for sure. He's giving Mick as many options as he can think of, the coy little expression remaining on his face.

"Well we were interrupted, weren't we? Never fun when it's interrupted. Not gonna lie though, that uh, fourth option seemed like somethin' I'd be open to. Unless you wanna see my gun," he smirked. "It's a nice one, too. Big, long, nice trigger 'n' everythin'."

He snorted. "Barrel's 'bout six in diameter. Very lovely, if I do say so my self."

"Less you just wanna fuck it and make out."

Very blunt. Too the point. Very Mick Rawson.

Ethan grins, closing the gap between them again so he's close to the other once more. "On the first date? You're straightforward. I like that." Whether it's an innuendo or he really means the weapon, Ethan grins like an idiot and bites his lower lip softly as he studies the other. "We have to start somewhere. We've got time to do more, I'm sure." The tease that he is, Ethan has no problem playing along with the game. He leans closer and exhales ever so faintly, lips gently parted until they press against those of the Welshman before him once more. He's not turning that down.

Fuck it.

He kissed him back, slender fingers moving to gently touch the side of Ethan's face. He stopped caring the second Ethan made contact and honestly he didn't try and fight for his control back. At least Ethan was a good kisser, less could be said for a few others he's met.

Not exactly sure what to really do he tried to signal to Ethan for him to lead. More or less out of some kind of nervousness. Not that he didn't have confidence in his ability, bot he was just more or less lost on how to go about it. Strange, when you have almost o physical contact with another person for almost four years.

Ethan is happy to do exactly that, figuring it will become more natural after a moment or two. He starts slowly, the touch becoming passionate the longer it holds. His fingers move to thread through Mick's hair again, his position shifting so that he's balanced on his free arm and twisted somewhat sideways beside Mick. His warm breath is deep and steady, his kisses long and soft. There's no need to rush anything. His nose slides to the left of Mick's as he remains ever so close, the faint noise of traffic in the distance and the rumble of jets above all there is to be heard beyond insects on the crisp night air.

His skin is surprisingly soft, his pulse rising ever so faintly just at the thrill of excitement at what he's stumbled into. Eventually, his fingers grip a bit tighter and things pick up as his lips part, a little bit of tongue going into the mix.

Oh, tongue.

There was never anything wrong with tongue.

Mick's lost interest in anything that wasn't Ethan's lips, which, well, could you blame him? Oh, soft hair, that's a bonus, gave him incentive to move his hand from Ethan's cheek to slide his fingers back through the other man's hair, thumb lightly stroking what skin it could touch. Mick felt himself relax, following Ethan's movements, oblivious to the world outside.

Snipers, specifically ones in his profession, never could really give themselves something to indulge in. There was always never enough time, never really a reason when all you were going to do was leave and move on to another job. And maybe it wasn't so bad for once, just ignoring everything and giving in to the way Ethan touched him. Fuck it, wasn't like anyone was going to storm up there and stop them, was there?

Hopefully not, because of all the people that could, their current third wheel would be literally the worst person to show up. If Mick's already somewhat lost to Ethan now, he'd better guard himself carefully when they're in a completely private place. Ethan shifts his position to take strain off his arm, now more or less hovering over Mick like he were about to push the other onto a bed but hardly doing that. His balance is impeccable, even in this situation.

He's lost track of time, really, but all he knows is that he's enjoying this, and he hopes it isn't problematic for the future. It's a slow move, but a hand moves to gently rest on Mick's thigh as he draws in for a very light bite to the man's lower lip, a sort of teasing thing indicating he's definitely the sort to add a bit of spice on top of day to day activities.

Mick lost himself. For once not drunk and actually enjoying himself for the first time in a very long time. Though it did bring up questions. Questions he quieted with a simple answer: friends with benefits. He just hoped Ethan would think the same. The entire idea he panicked about it for five seconds made him smirk against the other man's lips.

Then there were no more thoughts. Until Ethan's bite brought him back to reality and he remembered for a second where the hell he was.

Until he gently nudged Ethan back with his nose, catching his breath for a few seconds before licking his lips and clearing his throat.

"Have you been watching the floor?" Damn, his voice sounded dry.

Good question, it's certainly darker than it was and despite his good eye site, Mick can't exactly see down the building from his position. And any time now someone could have snuck in to find the bodies.

"Kind of." Ethan speaks breathlessly, pulling back with a faint grin on his lips. His expression makes it clear he has the same question, but the solution that came to mind for Mick is exactly what he's hoping to hear. He's not saying no to those benefits, though. He never would. Hell, he'd do just about anything to get to that point. Thankfully, it came without any major push on his part. Maybe it's something they both need at this point.

Ethan moves away after a moment longer to glance down, lips pursing. "No vehicle's approached. I don't see...wait...wait, one sec." Ethan reaches for his pocket, pulling out a case for contacts. That's...a little strange. He sure seemed to have fantastic vision. He hunches over and removes them before he blinks a few times as the dry sensation fades.

His eyes are impossibly bright green, and something about them is just...wrong. What the hell is going on with that? He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his sight once more, settling down to peer off into the night.

"Four approaching on foot. A fifth in a car. Maybe more."

"Wait a minute now what's with those?"

Mick's heard of impossibly green eyes but never like this. He squinted, it was too damn dark for eyes to shine like that. As pretty as they were, he had to admit it's a little fucked up. And not normal at all.

Whatever, it's not really important. if Ethan wanted to tell him, he could. Mick's focus was on the ground now.

"How you wanna play this?" the frustration that their little session had to be interrupted by his stupid Welsh mouth is plan in the way he grumbles out his words. "Wait it out, storm the tower, or call in our big man? These might be someone's lieutenants, which means they might be trouble."

"Or I can shoot all of them," did that sound eager? That sounded a little eager.

"I'll tell you later." Ethan makes the promise as he lowers the scope to glance back at Mick. "I promise. But for now let's deal with this shit." Lots to discuss between them, without a doubt. Ethan keeps his scope in hand and turns to Mick completely now. "Max will be here when we need him. I have no doubt. I was expecting one guy, not all of these. It's possible they're Torres' men, looking to see that we finished the job. I can't tell their ethnicities from up here, but things are very segregated here. If they aren't Latin or Hispanic, they're not his. I'm the exception, obviously. Nobody knows what to do with me so they let me float around like I want to." He taps his fingers against the device in his hand.

"I need to find out who they are. I'll go down and chat. Just be ready to take them out, or at least some of them. I'll get my left if you cover whoever's on my right. That work?"

"Right. Either signal me or shoot a text. No one else would text me, so I'll know it's you. Or just come up with something, point or whatever. I wont be able to just focus on you so be creative."

Now on to Mick's favorite part of the day that doesn't involve food, assembling his rifle.

Out of habit he mentally times himself as he nearly tears open the nylon case and puts it all together, mostly to be sure he's still as fast as he was years ago. He knows his SDV from front to back, and damned if he was ever slow in putting her together.

"I'll keep them on my focus. Great thing is it'll be silent so if trouble does start we can finish them off quick before they call for back up.

"Floor is yours, E. Try not to piss them off first thing, yeah?"

Ethan watches Mick puts the rifle together, clearly impressed. His gaze flicks from it back to his partner in crime and he nods, flashing a thumbs-up for reassurance. He stands and moves towards the building's edge that they came up in the first place before replying verbally.

"Will do. Stay safe. See you soon. I still need a better look at your gun, anyway. You did promise me a tour." Two can play this game. Ethan quite simply drops off the edge, his landing remarkably light on the balls of his feet. He tucks over one shoulder into a neat sideways roll before he straightens again and walks forward to greet those there.

It takes him all of two seconds to realize who he's seeing, and by then it's already too late. These are Torres' men, alright, but he knows without a doubt this is the lieutenant that's partnered with this organization. The faces are unfamiliar in the crowd, making him think they may be hired guns and outsiders instead of actual muscle from within the organization. Operating off the books without honest help? That's a very dangerous thing to do in a town like this when your loyalties are what keep you alive and grounded.

"Ethan? What are you doing here at this time of night? Didn't Torres send you to collect money or something?" The man studies him with scrutiny, but he's at least trying to make it sound like he's jesting and is glad to see the hitman. Ethan laughs and does so with perfect embarrassment.

"Yeah...the guy only had a thousand on him. I knew he had a storage facility around here somewhere, but I've got no clue where the self-storage units are. I figured I'd just...look around."

Mick gets a text- an emoji, none the less. It's an angry frowning face.

Peering through his scope, Mick smirked as he felt his phone vibrate and with practiced ease he quickly flicked down to his phone, reading the text before flipping it closed and shoving it back in his pocket.

He hoped that meant everyone. If it didn't well, too bad.

Bang. No, not a bang. Sounded more like a oew. A more fun sound.

It's like whackamole, hit the ones who stay still and spend a second or two chasing the other ones who panic. Thankfully, he's able to hit the sweet spots, all heads and spinal cords and through the hearts, he wasn't the best in his field for nothing of course, and there's something satisfying in watching body after body topple. Especially when you didn't have to refil your magazine. Just for show, he hits the man Ethan was talking to before a second time.

It takes him a moment before he pulls the rifle back and texts Ethan with a hope you wanted all of them bc I was killing them all anyway :), and flipped his phone back closed before reloading in case more showed up. Nothing he couldn't handle, really. Having fun down there?

As the bodies begin to fall, Ethan freezes in instinctive panic. When the man closest to him gets double-tapped for good measure, he flinches back and realizes his fists are clenched so tightly he's very nearly drawn blood. He exhales shakily and turns to glance up at Mick before he pulls his phone out and responds, hands somewhat shaky as he texts.

u almost made me piss my pants :((
that was impressive and kinda hot ;))

Of course he would say that. He pockets his phone and gets to work, searching the leader and then two of the others for ID information. He pops Mick another text when he finds some of what he's after.

these guys r hired muscle
goons not gang
torres dont know. we tell him n we expose the wole thing
nobody else involved maybe? :))

The first set of texts makes him almost laugh out loud.

You're welcome.

Folding back the stand on his SVD so he could stand for a bit, seeing as how Ethan's jumped down for a while he can finally light that smoke. He waited a few moments for any sign that others may be coming until he felt his phone vibrate again.

This is ridiculous you text like a 5 yo.
and that sucks no more kills :(
get us a bit of face at least.
you think they'll let the white guy call some shots? :P

HEY

Shut up i know dont rub it in :(((

U can kill som3on3 im sur3

LOL mayB idk rn

His texts are definitely in sharp contrast to the rest of him. Figures. Ethan holds the phone up to his ear and makes a quick call, standing in and midst the fallen bodies as if they were no more than trash on the sidewalk. Maybe to him that's exactly what they're like. The conversation is brief and soon he has who he wants to talk to on the line.

"Torress. Ran into a roadblock taking your man down. Got some of the cash, not all of it. Yeah, roadblock is deceased now. I'm on the hunt for the rest of it, ok? I need a little more time. I've only got about 200. Yeah, yeah, I know! I know, bro, listen. If this works out I'll be able to double what you're missing, guaranteed. Yeah. Thanks." The phone moves from his ear and he hits the end call button before texting Mick again.

Nothing l2ft for us h3r3

W3 should go b3for3 max g3ts back

Idk what 3lse 2 do 2night

Good. Five down and a celebrity doesn't do it for me ;)

Hell, he's a sniper. You can't blame him when generally the only things he gets to shoot are what he's told to shoot. There's a bit of a thrill in having the power to take any life you want. But of course, he had to control himself a little bit. Especially after that one case he had where it came down between him and another sniper. Damn bloody, it was.

We could head back to the safe-house apartment.
rather not have the big guy know where we're squatting for now
plus I need a refill on cigs and could use some sleep.

Ok good id3a i could go for som3 sl33p
Or not d3p3nding on how wir3d i am...LOL ;))

Whatever that means. Ethan pockets his phone and glances to the mess around him. Should they just leave it for Max? Probably. The big guy seems more than capable of handling it himself, after all. If he's connected enough to get dental records there's no reason he couldn't make this happen, too. Ethan decides that's how it will go before he glances back to Mick's location and checks to see if they're good to go back home, at least for the moment.
They're playing a dangerous game, and the only loyalty they know for sure is their own shared one. Max is a wildcard even thougj he seems sincere. Torres is a gang leader, and while he provides work he's one of the ultimate targets and could turn on them at any second. Whatever corrupt Feds caused this in the first place, too, currently have no face and are the ultimate enemy. Ethan might want something of his own out of the situation as well when all is said and done.

Disassembling his rifle and gathering what all he brought with him, Mick grunted as he maneuvered himself down the fire escape, already feeling that tendinitis creep into his left knee. Great. Just what he needed. A limp.

Thar's what he gets for being stationary and never walking anywhere, he supposed, but the stairs and ladder climbing did little to relieve the stress he put on the joint. Made him wonder if Ethan ever sprained anything climbing up buildings like he did. Wouldn't surprise him, really.

Finally reaching the bottom of the fire escape ladder, Mick dropped down and adjusted his rifle case before making his way to Ethan.

"Shall we then? The longer we dally the less time we have to rest before we get called out again by either Torres or Payne, yeah?"

Ethan's had a lot of injuries in his lifetime, and he still owes Mick the explanation he promised. To push his point, though, he needs to be somewhere he can show those scars, and that requires losing a bit of clothing, as ironic as it is.

"Yeah. Let's get out of here. Torres at least won't find us, but I wouldn't put it past Payne to somehow pull it off." He has a valid point. The man seems to run on surprises. Ethan leads the way back since Mick is probably fairly disoriented, and since they're on foot he knows all the best possible shortcuts. It will take a while longer since they aren't going to pick up a safe ride at this time of night. Walking side by side, the blocks pass and soon they've covered at least a mile and a half. There's about that much left to go.

"So...the eyes. They don't...freak you out? Like, completely?"

"Your eyes? Nah. They're weird as fuck, but 'onestly I've seen a lot weirder this year," It's true, he's had a demon crush half his body and once had a vampire throw a rat at him, very flattering, that part. He's also dealt with the weird and freaky side if humanity as well, though that didn't mean certain things still didn't scare or confuse him. Especially when it triggered his PTSD, now then that was a freak out. But he liked to think he's chilled out over the last few months.

"But yeah, no, they don't freak me out. Why? Do they freak out others? You wear those contacts over them, obviously not a lot of people get to really see them, eh?"

"Yeah, they tend to." He admits it with a quiet little laugh. "That's part of the reason I hide them. The other reason is I'd...rather see myself like I used to be, you know? Before." Before WHAT? He's not being very descriptive. His posture changes as he talks about it, though, and it's obvious in that moment that something very, very bad happened to this man at some point of his life to make him how he is.

"I promised I'd explain to you. I...if you know, you might head for the hills. A few have. I...think you won't, though. But...it's up to you whether you want to learn or not." He glances to Mick, rather pensive.

"You can tell me in your own time, mate. But I don't run out on a job, and I don't run on friends. 'Onestly I don't 'ave enough to. And I certainly can't judge. So whatever skeletons you've got, I can 'andle it."
Hell, if he could handle Jon being a murderer and hang out with some green woman who was a little bit overly anti-social and a bit of a misanthropist, he could handle what Ethan had to tell him, right? He certainally thought so. Mick was a man with the theory that every human had their issues, whatever Ethan's were, he could take it.

"Uh...ok. Well. I'll, ah...show you when we're home. But, just...listen, I guess. Some years ago when I was young and stupid...although you can argue I'm still one of those...I got cocky. And when you get prideful and you get an ego, well...ego is the enemy of parkour. At least, that's what I was always taught and told. I made a mistake. I got shot inches from my heart. I woke up to the sound of some FBI team approaching for the capture or kill and I got up, and I ran as hard and fast as I could, which wasn't very much of either. I made it about a quarter of a mile before I went down and passed out. I was sure I was dead." He pauses, inhaling deeply.

"I woke up on my stomach on an operating table. I assumed they were saving my life, although I wish they had let me die. But then it dawned on me the exit wound was on the front of my chest, because it went in through my back and punctured through. They should be working from the front to get the shrapnel out, as well as if they had to break my ribs open to get in there. Then I realized I couldn't move. I blacked in and out a lot. Lost track of time. It felt like it had been a few hours, maybe 24. Maybe 48. I don't know. Eventually I came to and there was no more surgery. I was just strapped down alone. I assumed it was to keep me from waking violently and hurting myself, or because I'd been arrested, but..." He pauses then, clearly wincing.

"I, ah...they let me up. Unhooked me from all the unpleasant shit. I wasn't really paying attention to what they were saying. And all I knew is I felt so...heavy. My limbs were just...stiff, sore, and heavy. I figured it was drugs. Until I stood up and saw a reflection of my back in metal and realized they'd cut me open and..."
He pauses, breaking off.

"I'm a cyborg, ok?...A very, very outdated cyborg."

Mick listens, somewhat confused but also incredibly interested. A cyborg explained a lot, honestly, from how he's able to move so fast and how he can do all those jumps without hurting himself, and why Ethan was so bitter about that human comment the Welshman made earlier. It's a better reveal than finding out a man who shared your face was also a demon, which, in Mick's opinion, was a better thing anyway. Less scary to him, at least.

"I'm sorry. That must 'ave been rough to adjust to," Mick's sincerity is true, that sounds damned painful, Defiantly something he would never want himself involved in. It's still weird as all hell, and well, maybe a normal guy like he was wasn't supposed to really understand it. "That's some burden to have to carry, E. I can understand, shit, I can't understand what you went through. But fuck, I know what it's like to have something traumatic like that 'appen to you."

"Burden...heh...hahah..." Suddenly finding that the most hilarious comment that could possibly have been made, Ethan is doubled over in laughter and looks like he's about to piss himself for a moment until he gets it under control. "Tell me about it. I weigh, like...two of me, basically. I'm 247, about. Me. 5'10" me is almost 250 pounds. Seriously, not joking. Try to pick me up sometime and you'll learn the hard way." He grins faintly, but it falls fairly fast. "That's also why you're never going to see me sleeping any way but my back, unless I'm not alone. I can't rest as well that way, so I tend to want that most of the time, but not all of it. That way the weight is actually off my muscles. I can relax, you know?"

Distance is passing, and the smells and sounds of the market are on the air.

"I wanted to die. I tried killing myself once but they kept me on tight lockdown after that and I didn't get the chance again."

"So that's why the bed dipped, eh?"

The bad joke is his attempt to lighten the mood ends with him clearing his throat as he listened to the last bit of what Ethan had to say. Suicide, the first time Mick was released from his first tour in the British Army, maybe it didn't lead to suicide, but self harm was defiantly something he was familiar with. It was why he smoked, focused him on something besides drugs or doing something far worse to deal with his problems. And well, keep his mental health in check.

"I guess we all 'ave our problems, eh?" It's all he can really say about it.

"Yeah." He gives a faint but sincere smile before his gaze lowers again and he falls back to his normal comfortable silence. The distance closes in, and soon they're back. Ethan takes the stairwell like a normal person for once, happy to enter and let out a sigh of relief when he ends up home. It's definitely time for a shower, or at least a partway clean-up. He kicks off his shoes by the door and hesitates, then turns his back to Mick. Might as well show him. He tugs his shift off and the reason is clear. Not only are there two bullet wounds (one from a different, more recent injury), the thin white lines go across his shoulders and down both arms, even to his palms. They're faded in his hands and hidden by callouses, however.

"Got it down my legs and across my hips, too. So if you wondered, if you noticed, that's why."

Mick's just glad to be back, he's dying for a shower and had been internally debating on shaving for the past few days. Could do with leaving the beard behind.

But the second Ethan shows him the scars and he couldn't help but notice them. Jesus, he's never seen something like that before. Lots of scars in his time, both physical and mental but nothing like that.

"Damn," well, what else is he supposed to say? "Vicious, those are."

He felt awkward for staring, he cleared his throat and turned away. "You want the first shower? I need a smoke and need to get my gear into place. Plus, once it gets around to my time I'll be a while. Probably gettin' rid of the fuzz for a bit."

Ethan doesn't mind the stares. He gets them a lot, after all, and he knows they're hard not to look at. "Sure. Thanks, bro." He grins and steps towards the bathroom, although he definitely drops his pants a bit early. Whether that was supposed to be flirting or teasing or not is completely up to Mick's interpretation. The damn cheeky bastard. The bathroom door closes halfway and he turns on the water before settling in to clean off, leaving Mick alone for the moment.

Mick looks, sturgeon facing before nodding slightly and considered what he's seen before moving on to separate his rifle from the nylon case back to it's home in a slightly beat up but far more protective rifle case. He has his standards of course.

Sniffing his shoulder and realizing that he hadn't bothered to shower or change in the past few days. That's gross. He usually never went that far. Ug, disgusting, how did Ethan not point out the stink?

Maybe it wasn't as bad as he thought. Oh well. Abandoning the cigarettes and just rummaging through his duffle, angry that he had absolutely no organization for anything but he rifle, he finally fished out a wrinkled shirt and what he guessed and hoped were a pair of sweatpants. Maybe Ethan was into naked Tuesdays? Certainly make his lazy bastard of a life a bit easier, and he waited for Ethan to finish up.

Ethan has one change of clothes, but that's it. He packs light and is ready to throw things away and move at any moment. For this reason, nowhere he lives really feels like...home. He showers quickly and emerges with a towel about his waist and absolutely nothing else. It's also worthwhile to note he's just holding it. It isn't fastened or tucked or anything. That could slip fast.

"All yours." He brushes past Mick to the bedroom to throw on boxers, definitely dropping the towel earlier than he needed to and simply stepping over it and continuing on his way.

Show off.

Well, at least Ethan left him some hot water.

The shower was a much welcome sensation in his life and he spent what else of the warmth that was left before the heat slowly faded to an chill he didn't notice for a solid five minutes. Too busy thinking. His mind was on the job but of course there were...other distractions that seemed to keep him torn between focusing on one of the other.

Shutting off the water and letting out a sigh, Mick wiped the condensation from the mirror before tapping his fingers on the sink. Lots to think about, lots to decide. Fuck it.

Shaving off that mass off his face seemed to take forever. He just felt the need to be rid of it for a while. Felt good, honestly, feeling skin instead of course hair against his jaw. Honestly, he thought the beard was just ridiculous.

Changing into the clean clothes he'd set out for himself. Mick sighed at the good sensation of just being clean. "E?" he called out when he finally emerged from the bathroom. "What you up to mate?"

"Lost the beard? You'd better not expect me to shave. This stays. I look ridiculous without it." He motions to the facial hair and stubble, grinning. He's laying on the bed with a book in his hands in nothing but boxers, still faintly wet and apparently not caring. He's above the covers though, thankfully. The tattered copy of Heart of Darkness is clearly well-loved.

"I don't know. I've got nothing for the night." He sets the book down and sighs pleasantly. "Finally time to relax, I guess."

"Agreed, though I have a few things I need to check into for myself before getting some R and R," he sighed, moving his way over to rummage through his bags and yank out his laptop, moving towards the opposite side of Ethan, sitting cross-legged and powering the old thing on. "Gina 'asn't called for updates and I've been needing to check and see if I've been paid on the Devito job. I still owe you for it, even if we aren't paid. And knowing my employer well, he doesn't exactly like to pay his employees well."

"Devito Job", fucking ridiculous. Still, even if he didn't get paid for it, it was still a hilarious story they'd have to tell anyone. "Hi, I met this one asshole once, we killed Danny Devito together. Found out by 'is fucking watch. ridiculous, innit?".

"What you readin' there anyway?" he asked as his computer finally loaded up his E-mail. Gonna have to try and steal better wifi at some point. But he's not really curious, just wants conversation. The rest of the apartment is, well, uncomfortable. Even though he feels like he's at a damn sleepover, he can't help but crave to have a chat.

"Heart of Darkness. Joseph Conrad. It's my favorite book. You heard of it?" Ethan asks in curiosity before he not-so secretly moves to peer over Mick's shoulder and creep on his emails. "I'm not worried about money. It's all yours, really. Just give me fifty to live on for a while and I'm golden. So long as YOU hang around a while." He's sincere about that. He reaches for the book and opens back to where he was before reading a passage with clear fondness. The rhythm and pacing of his tone suggests he might have part of it memorized, or has at least read it out loud more than once before.

"The volume of tone he emitted without effort, almost without the trouble of moving his lips, amazed me. A voice! a voice! It was grave, profound, vibrating, while the man did not seem capable of a whisper." He closes it reverently and sets it on the nightstand. It's a worn copy, but clearly well-loved.

Mick thought for a moment. "Never heard of it. I don't get much time to just sit around and read. Generally I'm either checking e-mails, sleeping, or traveling for jobs. This is 'onestly the longest I've ever stayed in one place for so long," he said, frowning when there was nothing but new job contacts listed from his inbox. Letting out a huff he shut the computer and slid himself down, feeling his tension leave the second he adjusts himself on the pillow.

"And you want me to 'ang around? Really?" He couldn't help but smile at that. "We are partners, ain't we? Generally those do tend to stick together."

He's got a point.

"You...want to? Thank God. I was worried you weren't gonna...but then I hoped after the roof you might...yeah." He smiles in relief and lets out a quiet little laugh before he settles back, somewhat against the man beside him. "So, uh...about that. We can't just ignore that, so...I was gonna say...I mean, probably more comfortable in a "with benefits" situation, you know? I mean, I'm polyamorous and all, but..." He throws it out there, praying to whoever's listening Mick agrees.

Partially because he doesn't want to look like an idiot, get called selfish, or let that be a one-off thing that never happens again.

"With benefits would be lovely. I'm...not exactly...," he waved his hand in the air, thinking of a word. "Ready, for a relationship still, you know? S'like, I just just can't bring myself to it. Fuck I don't know. But something to relieve the stress? Yeah, I'd like that."

He dug his palms against his eyes, stretching out and groaning as something popped. "I 'ope you understand that, though. I mean, it sounds silly really, still 'ung up after all these years, but there's some things you just can't let go of."

He rolled over, tired, narrow eyes peering up at Ethan. "You down with that, E?"

Ethan stays on his back for the moment, glancing over at Mick with somewhat bleary. The question gets a nod before it gets a response, and then a yawn stifled in one hand that breaks into his words. Graceful.

"Yeah. Good by me. Just wanted to make sure we were on the same page. I just want to let you know, though, I do have other partners. If that bothers you, I understand. Bothers most people." He gets poked at a lot for that. He just learned it's best to make it open so nobody gets butthurt and claims he didn't say a thing about it even though it shouldn't need to come up at all.

"I'm about to pass out. I can feel it."

"I 'onestly don't care who you sleep with or have a relationship with, man. Or 'ow many. I just care that you don't fuck me over on it. I don't put my trust in a lot of people. S'not like you're my boyfriend and I 'ave to be possessive anyway. Sure you have a few who'd skin me alive if they found out what we did on that roof, right?"

He really doesn't have anyone to trust anyway, snipers are generally loner types but what few friends Mick has had are either dead and buried or ended up leaving him behind later. Hell, his Nan still barely spoke to him, the only family member who cared enough to reach out was his sister. Then again, Jenna was all the real family he had anymore anyway.

"'M not worried about it though. I trust you," and with that he rolled over, letting out a sigh before trying to force himself asleep. Apathetic, not necessarily completely uncaring, but he's learned that some things should have restrictions on them.

"Hah...yeah. I'll keep him off your back, though, promise." And in the process end up with him on his own instead. Not that he's complaining. "I trust you, too." Just for reassurance. It can't hurt to say those words, right? Ethan shifts, and then has second thoughts. Does he want to...? No, he can do that another night. For now he's content to remain where he is and worm his way beneath the sheets to get some rest. Something tells him the next stage of this wonderful series of issues is going to be the biggest one yet.

Not that he's complaining or anything.

There something shitty in never dreaming when you slept. Mick didn't have nightmares, one of the few things he was actually incredibly grateful for. No dreams about war, no gun shots in his head, nothing that stuck on his past and made him relive it day in and day out.

Which was odd for a veteran, he heard. But no, he never had nightmares. And some nights he never dreamed. It made sleep long and unbearable, made him agitated when he didn't get his coffee in the morning. He could hear himself snoring, not a bad sound but it was enough to keep him awake until he drifted a bit. Obnoxious, all of it.

It took maybe another two hours to fall asleep, actually fall asleep. when he moved he felt Ethan next to him but ignored it, trying to just completely black out and wait for that dreaded morning to come. Oh well, he'd had worse nights. He just hoped he wasn't a burden to the man beside him. Not much he could do about it, really.

Burying his face in the pillow and just trying to keep himself asleep, Mick could feel the hours creep by before morning crept up. But he was going to attempt to sleep as long as he could.When Mick catches up, Ethan pauses to turn back to him. "Anything in particular you want, or you trust my judgment?" Thoughtful, surprisingly. "Figured we'd eat up top. I'll get it from the ground and bring it back up so you don't have to...slowly...make the trip." He grins like the smug idiot he is, keeping the phone near his face as he waits for his answer. Restaurant noise can be heard in the background, and a very familiar woman is yelling. It's pretty easy to guess exactly who that might be, given all that was experienced there last time.

"Slowly? Please," he says it like he's offended but he can't help but smirk back at him. This asshole over here was gonna be the death of him.

Ethan had a point though. Mick wasn't exactly the fastest when it came to anything. Except sniping, of course. That was his fucking forte. He prided himself on that.

"Fuck it. Get me a few of those dumplings we 'ad last time, if they give you some on the side. So long as you don't get me anythin' that'll kill me I'm fine with whatever you get us," it's true, worked out last time Ethan ordered for them.

"Right. Và một số bánh bao. Rất nhiều bánh bao." He finishes the order into the phone and hangs up before pointing up to the roof. "Half hour, tops. Want to heat on up?" Without waiting to hear if protest is given he heads straight for the fire escape, leaping up with ease to snag onto the platform's edge and draw himself up. He lowers the bottom ladder for Mick and waits for the sniper to follow before he draws it back up to avoid suspicion. He follows to the roof and takes a look around, figuring they'd better scout it out somewhat. There's only one direction a car could come from, though, which makes it somewhat easier.

"City doesn't look half bad from up here at night." Krieg glances out across the sea of lights before looking back to Mick. "You'd almost think it still had some life in it."

There was always something special about the view from a roof, Mick always thought. Nearly dumping his gear on the floor and barely caring for once, he took in a deep breath of fresh air before sighing as he dug around his bag for his remaining cigarettes, frowning at the sigh of a brown smear on the edge of the carton.

But it was forgotten when he looked out over at tops of buildings as lights started to glitter out and act like grounded stars.

"S'why I sometimes love my job. Not only do you get a view, but sometimes you can actually feel like you'll cleaning it up with every corrupt politician and wanker you take off the street and keepin' it pretty," he shrugged. "Or at least it's 'ow I like to think of it."

"I like it up here, too. Lots of my training I do up here 'cause nobody bothers me. I like to take it in, rest. Sometimes I actually fall asleep on my roof, but that's another story." That explains where he might disappear to, some nights. "So...this life, what comes with it. You ever wonder what it might have been like if you took some other path?" Really, he's thinking about his brother again. It's been on his mind a lot recently. No need to dredge that up, though. He glances to Mick, now standing beside the man with arms crossed as he examines the city he's come to call home.

"Sometimes I wonder what it would be like, like...being an average Joe. Just some citizen working a normal job."

"Not really. When my mum and dad died I spent a long time doing nothing and realized it was absolutely boring. Grandad was in the army and I was encouraged when my nan could care for my sister without needing me. My whole life was centered around bein' a soldier and criminology. It's what I'm good at."

Didn't mean he didn't think a lot about being a civ, hell, his sister was already engaged and moving on to England with her fiance'. Bless Jenna, she was ignorant to what he did and that was something that kept him solid. That little piece of family was all he had left.

"But it never hurts to dream about it, I suppose. Can't help but wonder, specially with what we are, eh?"

"Yeah..." Ethan trails off, deciding that since Mick was so open he owes the same. It isn't something he talks about much, though. He glances somewhat nervously to the other man, then back out across Detroit. "I, uh...well, with a surname like Krieg, you have to wonder what my family was up to. It isn't one I chose for myself. I was born with it. My dad was a hitman, too. So was my grandfather. My great-grandfather. My great-great grandfather, my great aunt...in this family, you kill or you attempt a normal life and die young. That's just how it is...how it was. Just me now, though. So that's ok, I guess. But...I knew early on what I'd be. So I trained and I got there. I just...made some mistakes along the way, I guess."
Mistakes that got him cut open for most of the day for months on end while the cybernetic surgeries were completed. But Mick has no reason to know that, yet.

"We all make mistakes, mate. You're only human."

Human, that's what keeps Mick moving. He's prone to making mistakes and fucking up. That's how he is, a depressed, PTSD suffering human. And it makes him comfortable knowing that. He'd do what he does, grow old, remember the good old days, or get caught during a hit and killed. Its a fact of life he's accepted. Mortality is comfort.

Stretching out tired muscles he keeled down, legs sore from being on them all day as he rested out and leaned back on his hands, eyes never leaving the view. "Ridiculous, innit? Spewing my stuff like that," he adjusted to sit cross-legged. "We've all got out baggage though. Do what you can though, right?"

There's a bit of a bitter laugh from Ethan, but he gives a nod despite it, gaze falling as a huff of air from the nose is the final noise he makes in answer before speaking. "Right. Human. Completely, totally human. Flesh and blood and bone." He takes his queue and sits beside Mick, legs somewhat messily sprawled before him. Shortly after, he draws them in to sit cross-legged, but it looks like it takes some effort. Maybe an old injury gets stuff in this position. Someone like him has to have those, right?

"Yeah. That's all we can do." His gaze moves over to scan Mick's face for a moment and his lips part as if he were about to ask a question or make a statement. He can't quite figure out what he wants to say, though. Instead, he finds himself looking at the sniper for more than a moment longer than he meant to, something bubbling up from his chest in wordless fashion, an urge to make itself known never the less.

"Hey, Mick?..."

"Yeah? You alright?"

He blinked, watching Ethan both with interest and confusion. Generally, people didn't ramble on when someone called them human. He cleared his throat, ticking his head to the side and waited for Ethan to finish what he started to say. The way he was looking at him made him nervous. He started tapping his figures on the roof to distract himself.

Oh, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Shit. Goddamn it all. Don't do it. Don't you fucking do it. Don't you-

He does it.

His movement is sure and without further hesitation, almost like none had existed to begin with. The gap between them is closed as Ethan abruptly leans over until he's inches from Mick, a gentle inhale all that stands between him and what he's about to do. It's over in an instant, his eyes drifting closed, and it transforms into a kiss as his lips move to press softly against those of the man before him.

It's a gentle thing, hesitant only in concern for the reaction it might receive. His lips are soft, his breath warm, the sensation of stubble faint against the skin. A moment's pause to breathe, now mere centimeters from each other once more. His eyes open slowly once more, searching for a reaction and hoping the limb he chose is not about to break. There's no smile on his lips, only a faint neutral line of wonder as he waits and watches.

Well then, that was unexpected. Also the first time he'd been kissed since Prophet died.

Brown eyes are wide and Mick swallows, processing what just happened like an old computer. He's confused, maybe a bit scared, as he tried to figure out what to do. The last time someone even tried he panicked, Prophet's death still too raw and open and in the end he was reminded that he was alone.

"I-," He honestly doesn't know what to say to that. But he does know that, while spontaneous things generally freaked him out, the entire thing wasn't necessarily unpleasant. "Wot was that for?"

It's all he can stutter out.

Ethan's lips twitch into a quaint little smile, eyes narrowed happily to match. A hand raises, his fingers gently moving to thread through Mick's hair. "Do you ever really need a reason?" He has a point. Unless there's severe resistance, he draws Mick closer and presses his lips against those of the man in a sort of breathless passion. Has he fallen for Mick, or is this something else entirely? It's anyone's guess, but only the two of them can figure that out.
It's a sensual, slow thing, the contact only breaking faintly as he goes for more. As intensity builds his fingers tightem against Mick's head and his teeth gently catch the other's lower lip between them for a memt and a brief, gentle pull, inviting more exploration.
His lips part now, hoping Mick's will do the same. His free hand moves from supporting him to sneaking over to intertwine fingers with those of the other man...

Until a car horn honks from below and he pulls back, startled.
"GET A ROOM! AFTER YOU PAY FOR FOOD!" The delicery boy holds up the bag, smirking.
Ethan clears his throat and pulls away.
"We'll, uh...we'll continue that. In a moment." He stands and drops off the edge, grabbing the fire escape's railing and descending completely to leave a likely breathless Mick where he sits.

"Huh."

It's really all he can think when Ethan leaves. It was sudden and he still hadn't figured out how to react. It felt like parts of his brain just shut down and literally nothing was making sense for a moment. He licked his lips, unsure why as he just had Ethan slobbering on him but it seemed to help him think.

What the fuck just happened?

Running his hands over his face to try and snap himself out of it, the idea of food seemed to be enough to get his mind going. Just...he'd have to talk to Ethan later. Figure something out, maybe. More with himself.

"Did you get my dumplings?" he shouted over the edge, making sure the important things are addressed first.

"Yup!" Ethan calls back up with no hesitation, checking the bag as he answers. He passes over cash and a generous tip before he slides the bag's handles over his wrist and lightly jogs back over to climb back up the way he came as if it were no harder than walking up a ramp. His acrobatics are as lively as ever, although very smooth and controlled tonight for the sake of the food. He arrives and sits again as if nothing unusual had happened moments before, setting the bag between them.

"Extra dumplings. Fork in case chopsticks aren't your thing."

"Beautiful mate," Mick smirked, the sight of the food bag easily perking him back up. Rather ridiculous, but then again, he was allowed to have very minor confused freak outs. At least food kept him calm. And he was free to indulge himself. And why not, when he had the metabolism?

"So ah, impromptu make outs your thing then?" He asks, more out of curiosity than concern, peeling open the dumplings container before popping one in his mouth. "Not that I'm complaining, really, but would've liked a little 'eads up. It's just ah, it's just been a long time, y'know."

What isn't ridiculous about this situation, really? In all honesty, what's one thing about it that isn't? Maybe that's exactly why Ethan saw fit to take a chance in the first place. When Mick brings up the question, he's glad that the problem doesn't come up that he just made a move on a straight guy. It's happened before, so he's relieved that isn't the issue. He lets out a quiet laugh before reaching straight for a box of noodles and settling in to eat.

"Yeah, they kind of are. But...fair enough." He gives a faint little smile and takes a bite, studying Mick in silence for a moment. There's definitely a lot going on he doesn't know about, and it might not be his place to question it at all. "I mean...more than happy to do that again. If you're up for it." He takes a bite, not knowing what the answer is going to be.

Mick shrugged. "I wouldn't care. If you're up for it. Might be rusty," the joke is half hearted, but maybe it's time to let go. Jon died what, three years ago now? Still, even if Ethan has initiated it, he felt damn guilty. But he couldn't help it. "I just lost someone a few years ago and it makes this sort of thing a little uncomfortable. But yeah, wouldn't mind going at it again."

Frowning as he picked at the rest of his food, Mick sighed. "You know, this 'as been a lousy stake out. We've barely been paying attention. Might ah, piss off our very large and unfriendly new friend, eh?"

"I'd notice if a car was approaching, I promise. Besides, it's gonna be a while, I bet. We're fine." He reassures Mick and settles back with his legs crossed before him, eating in comfortable silence before he asks a question that might be over the line. "What was their name? If you want to tell me, that is." There's always going to be that hanging in the way if it remains unsaid. Maybe it's time it is spoken of.

"His name was Jon, but we all called 'em Prophet. Man was damned good, 'e was incarcerated for a few years for killing a child molester. Which, naturally, perked my interest," Mick let out a bitter laugh. "You'd think it'd be easy to hide, right? Relationships within your teams are usually frowned upon. My boss at the time was a good man, close friend of mine. When 'e found out he turned the other way. Thankfully, I might add, 'cause my job was the only thing keepin' me here legally at the time. But inner corruption mixed up with bad intel and Coop getting himself done in. New boss ordered Prophet's transfer, because God forbid they lose the only man who could take down a unsub from a mile away. Didn't find out the man 'e killed's brother got to 'em until months later."

A frustrated huff paired with the realization that he'd been stabbing his dumplings as he spoke made him sigh. "Sorry, I don't talk about it much and when I do I spew it. Fucking ridiculous, all of it."

Ethan listens in steady silence before he gives a nod and speaks up again. "No, no, it's good to talk about shit like that. Listen, when shit like that happens? It doesn't matter how much of a badass you are. It's gonna stay with you. And that doesn't make you any weaker, man. It just hurts, and it reminds you that you're alive and you're alone even if you don't want either of those things to be true." He gives a faintly reassuring smile before reaching over to pat Mick's hand.

"And you never forget people like that in your life. Ever." He retracts his hand and finishes off his noodles with a satisfied sigh before snickering and barely containing his laughter into the back of his hand. With a sly little grin, he glances to Mick. "Hey, normally I'd be worried about the food and the spices for something like this, but...normally you only get half of the usual Asian spice, you know? But you've got a chance at what should be roughly 90% of it now."
oh my fucking god ethan.

The comment makes him snort, and makes him glad Ethan's got a sense of humor. Not that Mick wasn't shy of one, but after getting all that off his chest he could use the laugh. Even if the joke was damned horrible.

"You're somethin' else, E. Guess that's a good thing, eh?"

Finally grabbing the last mutilated dough roll, he smirked before finishing it off. He wasn't the biggest fan of ethnic foods but it was starting to grow on him. And well, if he planned on staying around for a while, he should get used to something. At least the dumplings were good.

"You know it." He finishes off his noodles and sets down the carton in the bag with a pleased sigh before he reaches for one of two fortune cookies. How could anything be complete without them, actually authentic or not? He peels the wrapper open and takes the cookie out, cracking it open. He eats it before reading, backwards from what many people seem to do. When he does read it, it's with his mouth full.

"Your smile is a curve that can set many things..." He snorts. "Straight." In bed? No, in his case, that tends to be the opposite of the truth. "Well then."

Why not indulge with Ethan, despite the fact that he rarely cared for what fortune cookies had to offer he couldn't help but want to participate. Hell he was having fun, and how long had it been really since he could say that?

"'A good way to keep healthy is to eat more Chinese food'. Well that's be 'elpfull if we were eating Chinese food, no?"

He doesn't bother with the cookie, just offers it to Ethan. He's not a fan of even slightly sweet things either, for a man who claimed to love food he was damned picky. The odd thing was, he didn't seemed to be bothered all that much.

If only all jobs could be like this, honestly.

Ethan accepts the cookie with a grin and eats it without hesitation. The man's not exactly concerned about gaining weight, after all. He glances at his watch, then out across the visible roads and the city again. "I think it could be a few hours until anything happens. Looks like we're stuck up here for now, although dinner was good." There's a moment of pause as he gathers up all the trash in the bag and makes it easy to dispose of later, shoving it out of the way and letting out a satisfied sigh. Silence for the moment, a faintly curious glance over to Mick. Whatever it's about is up to the Welshman to figure out. With Ethan being damn hard to read to those not extremely familiar with all of his different "settings," he's still got a ways to go until he knows it all.

"We do have some bit of time. S'gonna be a long night," he agreed, looking over at Ethan with a slightly curious brown gaze. As somewhat awkward as it was, he was surprised that he didn't feel obnoxiously nervous as he usually would. Hell, he hadn't even bothered to light that cigarette he pulled out earlier. Strange, he wasn't a chain smoker by any means but by now he's be craving nicotine like a bastard. Now? He was just comfortable.

"We could probably do something to pass the time. Though I forgot my board games and rifle's packed away so I guess there's 'onestly not much we could really do that's super fun."

He hoped that was enough to point Ethan in some kind of direction.

"Well..." Ethan pauses for a moment, a gentle little smirk settling across his face again. "What do people normally do on rooftops? I mean...we could tell stories, invent some game to play on rooftop stakeouts, ask Siri random shit, make out, make fun of our third wheel, wherever he went..." He's...definitely a unique individual, that's for sure. He's giving Mick as many options as he can think of, the coy little expression remaining on his face.

"Well we were interrupted, weren't we? Never fun when it's interrupted. Not gonna lie though, that uh, fourth option seemed like somethin' I'd be open to. Unless you wanna see my gun," he smirked. "It's a nice one, too. Big, long, nice trigger 'n' everythin'."

He snorted. "Barrel's 'bout six in diameter. Very lovely, if I do say so my self."

"Less you just wanna fuck it and make out."

Very blunt. Too the point. Very Mick Rawson.

Ethan grins, closing the gap between them again so he's close to the other once more. "On the first date? You're straightforward. I like that." Whether it's an innuendo or he really means the weapon, Ethan grins like an idiot and bites his lower lip softly as he studies the other. "We have to start somewhere. We've got time to do more, I'm sure." The tease that he is, Ethan has no problem playing along with the game. He leans closer and exhales ever so faintly, lips gently parted until they press against those of the Welshman before him once more. He's not turning that down.

Fuck it.

He kissed him back, slender fingers moving to gently touch the side of Ethan's face. He stopped caring the second Ethan made contact and honestly he didn't try and fight for his control back. At least Ethan was a good kisser, less could be said for a few others he's met.

Not exactly sure what to really do he tried to signal to Ethan for him to lead. More or less out of some kind of nervousness. Not that he didn't have confidence in his ability, bot he was just more or less lost on how to go about it. Strange, when you have almost o physical contact with another person for almost four years.

Ethan is happy to do exactly that, figuring it will become more natural after a moment or two. He starts slowly, the touch becoming passionate the longer it holds. His fingers move to thread through Mick's hair again, his position shifting so that he's balanced on his free arm and twisted somewhat sideways beside Mick. His warm breath is deep and steady, his kisses long and soft. There's no need to rush anything. His nose slides to the left of Mick's as he remains ever so close, the faint noise of traffic in the distance and the rumble of jets above all there is to be heard beyond insects on the crisp night air.

His skin is surprisingly soft, his pulse rising ever so faintly just at the thrill of excitement at what he's stumbled into. Eventually, his fingers grip a bit tighter and things pick up as his lips part, a little bit of tongue going into the mix.

Oh, tongue.

There was never anything wrong with tongue.

Mick's lost interest in anything that wasn't Ethan's lips, which, well, could you blame him? Oh, soft hair, that's a bonus, gave him incentive to move his hand from Ethan's cheek to slide his fingers back through the other man's hair, thumb lightly stroking what skin it could touch. Mick felt himself relax, following Ethan's movements, oblivious to the world outside.

Snipers, specifically ones in his profession, never could really give themselves something to indulge in. There was always never enough time, never really a reason when all you were going to do was leave and move on to another job. And maybe it wasn't so bad for once, just ignoring everything and giving in to the way Ethan touched him. Fuck it, wasn't like anyone was going to storm up there and stop them, was there?

Hopefully not, because of all the people that could, their current third wheel would be literally the worst person to show up. If Mick's already somewhat lost to Ethan now, he'd better guard himself carefully when they're in a completely private place. Ethan shifts his position to take strain off his arm, now more or less hovering over Mick like he were about to push the other onto a bed but hardly doing that. His balance is impeccable, even in this situation.

He's lost track of time, really, but all he knows is that he's enjoying this, and he hopes it isn't problematic for the future. It's a slow move, but a hand moves to gently rest on Mick's thigh as he draws in for a very light bite to the man's lower lip, a sort of teasing thing indicating he's definitely the sort to add a bit of spice on top of day to day activities.

Mick lost himself. For once not drunk and actually enjoying himself for the first time in a very long time. Though it did bring up questions. Questions he quieted with a simple answer: friends with benefits. He just hoped Ethan would think the same. The entire idea he panicked about it for five seconds made him smirk against the other man's lips.

Then there were no more thoughts. Until Ethan's bite brought him back to reality and he remembered for a second where the hell he was.

Until he gently nudged Ethan back with his nose, catching his breath for a few seconds before licking his lips and clearing his throat.

"Have you been watching the floor?" Damn, his voice sounded dry.

Good question, it's certainly darker than it was and despite his good eye site, Mick can't exactly see down the building from his position. And any time now someone could have snuck in to find the bodies.

"Kind of." Ethan speaks breathlessly, pulling back with a faint grin on his lips. His expression makes it clear he has the same question, but the solution that came to mind for Mick is exactly what he's hoping to hear. He's not saying no to those benefits, though. He never would. Hell, he'd do just about anything to get to that point. Thankfully, it came without any major push on his part. Maybe it's something they both need at this point.

Ethan moves away after a moment longer to glance down, lips pursing. "No vehicle's approached. I don't see...wait...wait, one sec." Ethan reaches for his pocket, pulling out a case for contacts. That's...a little strange. He sure seemed to have fantastic vision. He hunches over and removes them before he blinks a few times as the dry sensation fades.

His eyes are impossibly bright green, and something about them is just...wrong. What the hell is going on with that? He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his sight once more, settling down to peer off into the night.

"Four approaching on foot. A fifth in a car. Maybe more."

"Wait a minute now what's with those?"

Mick's heard of impossibly green eyes but never like this. He squinted, it was too damn dark for eyes to shine like that. As pretty as they were, he had to admit it's a little fucked up. And not normal at all.

Whatever, it's not really important. if Ethan wanted to tell him, he could. Mick's focus was on the ground now.

"How you wanna play this?" the frustration that their little session had to be interrupted by his stupid Welsh mouth is plan in the way he grumbles out his words. "Wait it out, storm the tower, or call in our big man? These might be someone's lieutenants, which means they might be trouble."

"Or I can shoot all of them," did that sound eager? That sounded a little eager.

"I'll tell you later." Ethan makes the promise as he lowers the scope to glance back at Mick. "I promise. But for now let's deal with this shit." Lots to discuss between them, without a doubt. Ethan keeps his scope in hand and turns to Mick completely now. "Max will be here when we need him. I have no doubt. I was expecting one guy, not all of these. It's possible they're Torres' men, looking to see that we finished the job. I can't tell their ethnicities from up here, but things are very segregated here. If they aren't Latin or Hispanic, they're not his. I'm the exception, obviously. Nobody knows what to do with me so they let me float around like I want to." He taps his fingers against the device in his hand.

"I need to find out who they are. I'll go down and chat. Just be ready to take them out, or at least some of them. I'll get my left if you cover whoever's on my right. That work?"

"Right. Either signal me or shoot a text. No one else would text me, so I'll know it's you. Or just come up with something, point or whatever. I wont be able to just focus on you so be creative."

Now on to Mick's favorite part of the day that doesn't involve food, assembling his rifle.

Out of habit he mentally times himself as he nearly tears open the nylon case and puts it all together, mostly to be sure he's still as fast as he was years ago. He knows his SDV from front to back, and damned if he was ever slow in putting her together.

"I'll keep them on my focus. Great thing is it'll be silent so if trouble does start we can finish them off quick before they call for back up.

"Floor is yours, E. Try not to piss them off first thing, yeah?"

Ethan watches Mick puts the rifle together, clearly impressed. His gaze flicks from it back to his partner in crime and he nods, flashing a thumbs-up for reassurance. He stands and moves towards the building's edge that they came up in the first place before replying verbally.

"Will do. Stay safe. See you soon. I still need a better look at your gun, anyway. You did promise me a tour." Two can play this game. Ethan quite simply drops off the edge, his landing remarkably light on the balls of his feet. He tucks over one shoulder into a neat sideways roll before he straightens again and walks forward to greet those there.

It takes him all of two seconds to realize who he's seeing, and by then it's already too late. These are Torres' men, alright, but he knows without a doubt this is the lieutenant that's partnered with this organization. The faces are unfamiliar in the crowd, making him think they may be hired guns and outsiders instead of actual muscle from within the organization. Operating off the books without honest help? That's a very dangerous thing to do in a town like this when your loyalties are what keep you alive and grounded.

"Ethan? What are you doing here at this time of night? Didn't Torres send you to collect money or something?" The man studies him with scrutiny, but he's at least trying to make it sound like he's jesting and is glad to see the hitman. Ethan laughs and does so with perfect embarrassment.

"Yeah...the guy only had a thousand on him. I knew he had a storage facility around here somewhere, but I've got no clue where the self-storage units are. I figured I'd just...look around."

Mick gets a text- an emoji, none the less. It's an angry frowning face.

Peering through his scope, Mick smirked as he felt his phone vibrate and with practiced ease he quickly flicked down to his phone, reading the text before flipping it closed and shoving it back in his pocket.

He hoped that meant everyone. If it didn't well, too bad.

Bang. No, not a bang. Sounded more like a oew. A more fun sound.

It's like whackamole, hit the ones who stay still and spend a second or two chasing the other ones who panic. Thankfully, he's able to hit the sweet spots, all heads and spinal cords and through the hearts, he wasn't the best in his field for nothing of course, and there's something satisfying in watching body after body topple. Especially when you didn't have to refil your magazine. Just for show, he hits the man Ethan was talking to before a second time.

It takes him a moment before he pulls the rifle back and texts Ethan with a hope you wanted all of them bc I was killing them all anyway :), and flipped his phone back closed before reloading in case more showed up. Nothing he couldn't handle, really. Having fun down there?

As the bodies begin to fall, Ethan freezes in instinctive panic. When the man closest to him gets double-tapped for good measure, he flinches back and realizes his fists are clenched so tightly he's very nearly drawn blood. He exhales shakily and turns to glance up at Mick before he pulls his phone out and responds, hands somewhat shaky as he texts.

u almost made me piss my pants :((
that was impressive and kinda hot ;))

Of course he would say that. He pockets his phone and gets to work, searching the leader and then two of the others for ID information. He pops Mick another text when he finds some of what he's after.

these guys r hired muscle
goons not gang
torres dont know. we tell him n we expose the wole thing
nobody else involved maybe? :))

The first set of texts makes him almost laugh out loud.

You're welcome.

Folding back the stand on his SVD so he could stand for a bit, seeing as how Ethan's jumped down for a while he can finally light that smoke. He waited a few moments for any sign that others may be coming until he felt his phone vibrate again.

This is ridiculous you text like a 5 yo.
and that sucks no more kills :(
get us a bit of face at least.
you think they'll let the white guy call some shots? :P

HEY

Shut up i know dont rub it in :(((

U can kill som3on3 im sur3

LOL mayB idk rn

His texts are definitely in sharp contrast to the rest of him. Figures. Ethan holds the phone up to his ear and makes a quick call, standing in and midst the fallen bodies as if they were no more than trash on the sidewalk. Maybe to him that's exactly what they're like. The conversation is brief and soon he has who he wants to talk to on the line.

"Torress. Ran into a roadblock taking your man down. Got some of the cash, not all of it. Yeah, roadblock is deceased now. I'm on the hunt for the rest of it, ok? I need a little more time. I've only got about 200. Yeah, yeah, I know! I know, bro, listen. If this works out I'll be able to double what you're missing, guaranteed. Yeah. Thanks." The phone moves from his ear and he hits the end call button before texting Mick again.

Nothing l2ft for us h3r3

W3 should go b3for3 max g3ts back

Idk what 3lse 2 do 2night

Good. Five down and a celebrity doesn't do it for me ;)

Hell, he's a sniper. You can't blame him when generally the only things he gets to shoot are what he's told to shoot. There's a bit of a thrill in having the power to take any life you want. But of course, he had to control himself a little bit. Especially after that one case he had where it came down between him and another sniper. Damn bloody, it was.

We could head back to the safe-house apartment.
rather not have the big guy know where we're squatting for now
plus I need a refill on cigs and could use some sleep.

Ok good id3a i could go for som3 sl33p
Or not d3p3nding on how wir3d i am...LOL ;))

Whatever that means. Ethan pockets his phone and glances to the mess around him. Should they just leave it for Max? Probably. The big guy seems more than capable of handling it himself, after all. If he's connected enough to get dental records there's no reason he couldn't make this happen, too. Ethan decides that's how it will go before he glances back to Mick's location and checks to see if they're good to go back home, at least for the moment.
They're playing a dangerous game, and the only loyalty they know for sure is their own shared one. Max is a wildcard even thougj he seems sincere. Torres is a gang leader, and while he provides work he's one of the ultimate targets and could turn on them at any second. Whatever corrupt Feds caused this in the first place, too, currently have no face and are the ultimate enemy. Ethan might want something of his own out of the situation as well when all is said and done.

Disassembling his rifle and gathering what all he brought with him, Mick grunted as he maneuvered himself down the fire escape, already feeling that tendinitis creep into his left knee. Great. Just what he needed. A limp.

Thar's what he gets for being stationary and never walking anywhere, he supposed, but the stairs and ladder climbing did little to relieve the stress he put on the joint. Made him wonder if Ethan ever sprained anything climbing up buildings like he did. Wouldn't surprise him, really.

Finally reaching the bottom of the fire escape ladder, Mick dropped down and adjusted his rifle case before making his way to Ethan.

"Shall we then? The longer we dally the less time we have to rest before we get called out again by either Torres or Payne, yeah?"

Ethan's had a lot of injuries in his lifetime, and he still owes Mick the explanation he promised. To push his point, though, he needs to be somewhere he can show those scars, and that requires losing a bit of clothing, as ironic as it is.

"Yeah. Let's get out of here. Torres at least won't find us, but I wouldn't put it past Payne to somehow pull it off." He has a valid point. The man seems to run on surprises. Ethan leads the way back since Mick is probably fairly disoriented, and since they're on foot he knows all the best possible shortcuts. It will take a while longer since they aren't going to pick up a safe ride at this time of night. Walking side by side, the blocks pass and soon they've covered at least a mile and a half. There's about that much left to go.

"So...the eyes. They don't...freak you out? Like, completely?"

"Your eyes? Nah. They're weird as fuck, but 'onestly I've seen a lot weirder this year," It's true, he's had a demon crush half his body and once had a vampire throw a rat at him, very flattering, that part. He's also dealt with the weird and freaky side if humanity as well, though that didn't mean certain things still didn't scare or confuse him. Especially when it triggered his PTSD, now then that was a freak out. But he liked to think he's chilled out over the last few months.

"But yeah, no, they don't freak me out. Why? Do they freak out others? You wear those contacts over them, obviously not a lot of people get to really see them, eh?"

"Yeah, they tend to." He admits it with a quiet little laugh. "That's part of the reason I hide them. The other reason is I'd...rather see myself like I used to be, you know? Before." Before WHAT? He's not being very descriptive. His posture changes as he talks about it, though, and it's obvious in that moment that something very, very bad happened to this man at some point of his life to make him how he is.

"I promised I'd explain to you. I...if you know, you might head for the hills. A few have. I...think you won't, though. But...it's up to you whether you want to learn or not." He glances to Mick, rather pensive.

"You can tell me in your own time, mate. But I don't run out on a job, and I don't run on friends. 'Onestly I don't 'ave enough to. And I certainly can't judge. So whatever skeletons you've got, I can 'andle it."
Hell, if he could handle Jon being a murderer and hang out with some green woman who was a little bit overly anti-social and a bit of a misanthropist, he could handle what Ethan had to tell him, right? He certainally thought so. Mick was a man with the theory that every human had their issues, whatever Ethan's were, he could take it.

"Uh...ok. Well. I'll, ah...show you when we're home. But, just...listen, I guess. Some years ago when I was young and stupid...although you can argue I'm still one of those...I got cocky. And when you get prideful and you get an ego, well...ego is the enemy of parkour. At least, that's what I was always taught and told. I made a mistake. I got shot inches from my heart. I woke up to the sound of some FBI team approaching for the capture or kill and I got up, and I ran as hard and fast as I could, which wasn't very much of either. I made it about a quarter of a mile before I went down and passed out. I was sure I was dead." He pauses, inhaling deeply.

"I woke up on my stomach on an operating table. I assumed they were saving my life, although I wish they had let me die. But then it dawned on me the exit wound was on the front of my chest, because it went in through my back and punctured through. They should be working from the front to get the shrapnel out, as well as if they had to break my ribs open to get in there. Then I realized I couldn't move. I blacked in and out a lot. Lost track of time. It felt like it had been a few hours, maybe 24. Maybe 48. I don't know. Eventually I came to and there was no more surgery. I was just strapped down alone. I assumed it was to keep me from waking violently and hurting myself, or because I'd been arrested, but..." He pauses then, clearly wincing.

"I, ah...they let me up. Unhooked me from all the unpleasant shit. I wasn't really paying attention to what they were saying. And all I knew is I felt so...heavy. My limbs were just...stiff, sore, and heavy. I figured it was drugs. Until I stood up and saw a reflection of my back in metal and realized they'd cut me open and..."
He pauses, breaking off.

"I'm a cyborg, ok?...A very, very outdated cyborg."

Mick listens, somewhat confused but also incredibly interested. A cyborg explained a lot, honestly, from how he's able to move so fast and how he can do all those jumps without hurting himself, and why Ethan was so bitter about that human comment the Welshman made earlier. It's a better reveal than finding out a man who shared your face was also a demon, which, in Mick's opinion, was a better thing anyway. Less scary to him, at least.

"I'm sorry. That must 'ave been rough to adjust to," Mick's sincerity is true, that sounds damned painful, Defiantly something he would never want himself involved in. It's still weird as all hell, and well, maybe a normal guy like he was wasn't supposed to really understand it. "That's some burden to have to carry, E. I can understand, shit, I can't understand what you went through. But fuck, I know what it's like to have something traumatic like that 'appen to you."

"Burden...heh...hahah..." Suddenly finding that the most hilarious comment that could possibly have been made, Ethan is doubled over in laughter and looks like he's about to piss himself for a moment until he gets it under control. "Tell me about it. I weigh, like...two of me, basically. I'm 247, about. Me. 5'10" me is almost 250 pounds. Seriously, not joking. Try to pick me up sometime and you'll learn the hard way." He grins faintly, but it falls fairly fast. "That's also why you're never going to see me sleeping any way but my back, unless I'm not alone. I can't rest as well that way, so I tend to want that most of the time, but not all of it. That way the weight is actually off my muscles. I can relax, you know?"

Distance is passing, and the smells and sounds of the market are on the air.

"I wanted to die. I tried killing myself once but they kept me on tight lockdown after that and I didn't get the chance again."

"So that's why the bed dipped, eh?"

The bad joke is his attempt to lighten the mood ends with him clearing his throat as he listened to the last bit of what Ethan had to say. Suicide, the first time Mick was released from his first tour in the British Army, maybe it didn't lead to suicide, but self harm was defiantly something he was familiar with. It was why he smoked, focused him on something besides drugs or doing something far worse to deal with his problems. And well, keep his mental health in check.

"I guess we all 'ave our problems, eh?" It's all he can really say about it.

"Yeah." He gives a faint but sincere smile before his gaze lowers again and he falls back to his normal comfortable silence. The distance closes in, and soon they're back. Ethan takes the stairwell like a normal person for once, happy to enter and let out a sigh of relief when he ends up home. It's definitely time for a shower, or at least a partway clean-up. He kicks off his shoes by the door and hesitates, then turns his back to Mick. Might as well show him. He tugs his shift off and the reason is clear. Not only are there two bullet wounds (one from a different, more recent injury), the thin white lines go across his shoulders and down both arms, even to his palms. They're faded in his hands and hidden by callouses, however.

"Got it down my legs and across my hips, too. So if you wondered, if you noticed, that's why."

Mick's just glad to be back, he's dying for a shower and had been internally debating on shaving for the past few days. Could do with leaving the beard behind.

But the second Ethan shows him the scars and he couldn't help but notice them. Jesus, he's never seen something like that before. Lots of scars in his time, both physical and mental but nothing like that.

"Damn," well, what else is he supposed to say? "Vicious, those are."

He felt awkward for staring, he cleared his throat and turned away. "You want the first shower? I need a smoke and need to get my gear into place. Plus, once it gets around to my time I'll be a while. Probably gettin' rid of the fuzz for a bit."

Ethan doesn't mind the stares. He gets them a lot, after all, and he knows they're hard not to look at. "Sure. Thanks, bro." He grins and steps towards the bathroom, although he definitely drops his pants a bit early. Whether that was supposed to be flirting or teasing or not is completely up to Mick's interpretation. The damn cheeky bastard. The bathroom door closes halfway and he turns on the water before settling in to clean off, leaving Mick alone for the moment.

Mick looks, sturgeon facing before nodding slightly and considered what he's seen before moving on to separate his rifle from the nylon case back to it's home in a slightly beat up but far more protective rifle case. He has his standards of course.

Sniffing his shoulder and realizing that he hadn't bothered to shower or change in the past few days. That's gross. He usually never went that far. Ug, disgusting, how did Ethan not point out the stink?

Maybe it wasn't as bad as he thought. Oh well. Abandoning the cigarettes and just rummaging through his duffle, angry that he had absolutely no organization for anything but he rifle, he finally fished out a wrinkled shirt and what he guessed and hoped were a pair of sweatpants. Maybe Ethan was into naked Tuesdays? Certainly make his lazy bastard of a life a bit easier, and he waited for Ethan to finish up.

Ethan has one change of clothes, but that's it. He packs light and is ready to throw things away and move at any moment. For this reason, nowhere he lives really feels like...home. He showers quickly and emerges with a towel about his waist and absolutely nothing else. It's also worthwhile to note he's just holding it. It isn't fastened or tucked or anything. That could slip fast.

"All yours." He brushes past Mick to the bedroom to throw on boxers, definitely dropping the towel earlier than he needed to and simply stepping over it and continuing on his way.

Show off.

Well, at least Ethan left him some hot water.

The shower was a much welcome sensation in his life and he spent what else of the warmth that was left before the heat slowly faded to an chill he didn't notice for a solid five minutes. Too busy thinking. His mind was on the job but of course there were...other distractions that seemed to keep him torn between focusing on one of the other.

Shutting off the water and letting out a sigh, Mick wiped the condensation from the mirror before tapping his fingers on the sink. Lots to think about, lots to decide. Fuck it.

Shaving off that mass off his face seemed to take forever. He just felt the need to be rid of it for a while. Felt good, honestly, feeling skin instead of course hair against his jaw. Honestly, he thought the beard was just ridiculous.

Changing into the clean clothes he'd set out for himself. Mick sighed at the good sensation of just being clean. "E?" he called out when he finally emerged from the bathroom. "What you up to mate?"

"Lost the beard? You'd better not expect me to shave. This stays. I look ridiculous without it." He motions to the facial hair and stubble, grinning. He's laying on the bed with a book in his hands in nothing but boxers, still faintly wet and apparently not caring. He's above the covers though, thankfully. The tattered copy of Heart of Darkness is clearly well-loved.

"I don't know. I've got nothing for the night." He sets the book down and sighs pleasantly. "Finally time to relax, I guess."

"Agreed, though I have a few things I need to check into for myself before getting some R and R," he sighed, moving his way over to rummage through his bags and yank out his laptop, moving towards the opposite side of Ethan, sitting cross-legged and powering the old thing on. "Gina 'asn't called for updates and I've been needing to check and see if I've been paid on the Devito job. I still owe you for it, even if we aren't paid. And knowing my employer well, he doesn't exactly like to pay his employees well."

"Devito Job", fucking ridiculous. Still, even if he didn't get paid for it, it was still a hilarious story they'd have to tell anyone. "Hi, I met this one asshole once, we killed Danny Devito together. Found out by 'is fucking watch. ridiculous, innit?".

"What you readin' there anyway?" he asked as his computer finally loaded up his E-mail. Gonna have to try and steal better wifi at some point. But he's not really curious, just wants conversation. The rest of the apartment is, well, uncomfortable. Even though he feels like he's at a damn sleepover, he can't help but crave to have a chat.

"Heart of Darkness. Joseph Conrad. It's my favorite book. You heard of it?" Ethan asks in curiosity before he not-so secretly moves to peer over Mick's shoulder and creep on his emails. "I'm not worried about money. It's all yours, really. Just give me fifty to live on for a while and I'm golden. So long as YOU hang around a while." He's sincere about that. He reaches for the book and opens back to where he was before reading a passage with clear fondness. The rhythm and pacing of his tone suggests he might have part of it memorized, or has at least read it out loud more than once before.

"The volume of tone he emitted without effort, almost without the trouble of moving his lips, amazed me. A voice! a voice! It was grave, profound, vibrating, while the man did not seem capable of a whisper." He closes it reverently and sets it on the nightstand. It's a worn copy, but clearly well-loved.

Mick thought for a moment. "Never heard of it. I don't get much time to just sit around and read. Generally I'm either checking e-mails, sleeping, or traveling for jobs. This is 'onestly the longest I've ever stayed in one place for so long," he said, frowning when there was nothing but new job contacts listed from his inbox. Letting out a huff he shut the computer and slid himself down, feeling his tension leave the second he adjusts himself on the pillow.

"And you want me to 'ang around? Really?" He couldn't help but smile at that. "We are partners, ain't we? Generally those do tend to stick together."

He's got a point.

"You...want to? Thank God. I was worried you weren't gonna...but then I hoped after the roof you might...yeah." He smiles in relief and lets out a quiet little laugh before he settles back, somewhat against the man beside him. "So, uh...about that. We can't just ignore that, so...I was gonna say...I mean, probably more comfortable in a "with benefits" situation, you know? I mean, I'm polyamorous and all, but..." He throws it out there, praying to whoever's listening Mick agrees.

Partially because he doesn't want to look like an idiot, get called selfish, or let that be a one-off thing that never happens again.

"With benefits would be lovely. I'm...not exactly...," he waved his hand in the air, thinking of a word. "Ready, for a relationship still, you know? S'like, I just just can't bring myself to it. Fuck I don't know. But something to relieve the stress? Yeah, I'd like that."

He dug his palms against his eyes, stretching out and groaning as something popped. "I 'ope you understand that, though. I mean, it sounds silly really, still 'ung up after all these years, but there's some things you just can't let go of."

He rolled over, tired, narrow eyes peering up at Ethan. "You down with that, E?"

Ethan stays on his back for the moment, glancing over at Mick with somewhat bleary. The question gets a nod before it gets a response, and then a yawn stifled in one hand that breaks into his words. Graceful.

"Yeah. Good by me. Just wanted to make sure we were on the same page. I just want to let you know, though, I do have other partners. If that bothers you, I understand. Bothers most people." He gets poked at a lot for that. He just learned it's best to make it open so nobody gets butthurt and claims he didn't say a thing about it even though it shouldn't need to come up at all.

"I'm about to pass out. I can feel it."

"I 'onestly don't care who you sleep with or have a relationship with, man. Or 'ow many. I just care that you don't fuck me over on it. I don't put my trust in a lot of people. S'not like you're my boyfriend and I 'ave to be possessive anyway. Sure you have a few who'd skin me alive if they found out what we did on that roof, right?"

He really doesn't have anyone to trust anyway, snipers are generally loner types but what few friends Mick has had are either dead and buried or ended up leaving him behind later. Hell, his Nan still barely spoke to him, the only family member who cared enough to reach out was his sister. Then again, Jenna was all the real family he had anymore anyway.

"'M not worried about it though. I trust you," and with that he rolled over, letting out a sigh before trying to force himself asleep. Apathetic, not necessarily completely uncaring, but he's learned that some things should have restrictions on them.

"Hah...yeah. I'll keep him off your back, though, promise." And in the process end up with him on his own instead. Not that he's complaining. "I trust you, too." Just for reassurance. It can't hurt to say those words, right? Ethan shifts, and then has second thoughts. Does he want to...? No, he can do that another night. For now he's content to remain where he is and worm his way beneath the sheets to get some rest. Something tells him the next stage of this wonderful series of issues is going to be the biggest one yet.

Not that he's complaining or anything.

There something shitty in never dreaming when you slept. Mick didn't have nightmares, one of the few things he was actually incredibly grateful for. No dreams about war, no gun shots in his head, nothing that stuck on his past and made him relive it day in and day out.

Which was odd for a veteran, he heard. But no, he never had nightmares. And some nights he never dreamed. It made sleep long and unbearable, made him agitated when he didn't get his coffee in the morning. He could hear himself snoring, not a bad sound but it was enough to keep him awake until he drifted a bit. Obnoxious, all of it.

It took maybe another two hours to fall asleep, actually fall asleep. when he moved he felt Ethan next to him but ignored it, trying to just completely black out and wait for that dreaded morning to come. Oh well, he'd had worse nights. He just hoped he wasn't a burden to the man beside him. Not much he could do about it, really.

Burying his face in the pillow and just trying to keep himself asleep, Mick could feel the hours creep by before morning crept up. But he was going to attempt to sleep as long as he could.