Francis saw Feliks' eyes shut, but didn't twig what had happened until the Pole's breathing settled into a slow and steady rhythm. He'd fainted - from shock most likely. Francis understood what he felt, and was worried for him.

Picking up the limp body, he slowly made his way back across the hallway into the room he had been in a few minutes previous. Feliks' grubby shoes dragged on the tiles.

Francis opened the door slowly, the hinges creaking quietly as it swung. Antonio immediately became visible, facing away from the door towards the brown-haired Italian, who had his back to him and his arms folded. He appeared to be pleading with him about something.

Upon hearing the hinges, Antonio turned and his eyes widened at the sight of Feliks' unconscious body propped against Francis. "Dios mio! What happened?" Behind him, Lovino glanced around, trying to hide his concerned expression.

Francis bit his lip. "He tried phoning through to Toris once he discovered he could charge his phone. There was no reply at the other end - it connected, but no one was able to pick up. Toris is obviously unavailable...or worse."

Antonio gasped. "Oh! Is he ok?"

"He fainted shortly after. I think it was all too much for him. He'll certainly be upset when he wakes up though."

"Do you think you should lie him down?" Antonio asked.

"Oui," Francis replied. "I came to request your assistance in taking him next door." He was struggling a bit to keep Feliks upright by now.

Antonio promptly crossed the room and supported Feliks' legs, taking some of the strain from Francis. "Let's go then. Come on, Lovi."

"What the hell is a Lovi?" Lovino scowled, picking up his bag and following them out through the kitchen.

"You are, of course," Antonio smiled.

"Ah, you found out about our new friend," interjected Francis.

"Not particularly," replied Antonio. "He's very cagey."

"Damn right," Lovino said, determined to keep his point of view in check. "Where are we going anyway?" They were by now through the kitchen and out of a set of French doors leading into what had once been a garden, gleaming in the fading light. To their right was a pile of rubble; to their left, another building.

"Next door. This house and the one next to it were the least damaged out of the places in this area, but they're very small. So we keep our base of operations where we just were, and the three of us sleep in the building over here." Antonio indicated with his head to the bungalow to the left. Lovino turned around. It and the building he'd just left looked very similar; smallish, probably four-roomed bungalows, slightly battered and covered with dust and ash. From his best guess, they were on the outskirts of the city.

They crossed a flattened fence into the left-side garden and approached the new building. Dilapidated shutters hung uncertainly off the edges of the windows, and the paintwork was discoloured and cracked. There was also a hefty padlock chaining the back door to the wall.

"Security," Antonio said, noticing Lovino's gaze. "We don't particularly want people coming in and taking our stuff whenever they please." He shifted his grip on Feliks to one hand and pulled a set of keys out of his pocket, inserting one into the padlock. It clicked loudly on turning and the lock clunked heavily to the ground. Antonio picked it and the chain up, and the two, still with Feliks between them, headed inside.

Lovino hung back for a second, thinking. If he wanted a chance to escape, now was the best one he'd had. The ground was open for some distance, nothing blocking his way at all, and the others were inside the house.

So why hadn't he moved yet?

He frowned, trying to puzzle his newfound indecision and move, when Antonio poked his head around the doorframe.

"Lovi!~ You coming in?" His voice was cheerful, like a song, and accompanied as always by a bright smile. It was clear he expected, perhaps even wanted Lovino to come in.

Lovino shook himself. What did he care what that bastard thought? With a quiet curse, he scuffed the ground and headed inside. Unnoticed to him, Antonio smiled quietly, and disappeared inside the house ahead of Lovino.

The interior wasn't as battered as the outside, with the flower-patterned wallpaper being almost new, and the kitchen they entered being clean and shining. Evidently the place had been well-kept and only abandoned after the attacks. Still, the old-fashioned designs couldn't help but bring a smirk to Lovino's face.

He headed through into a small hallway, wooden panelled with three doors leading off it, two to the left, one to the right. The further left door was slightly ajar, with Antonio and Francis' voices audible from the inside.

Lovino walked up to it and cautiously poked his head around the edge. The room looked like it had been hastily converted; a dining table was folded against one wall and the bed on the far side was a temporary camp bed. A pile of neatly folded clothes lay next to a suitcase at its foot.

Feliks, still unconscious, lay on the bed, orange rays on his face from the sunset through the window. Francis was bent over next to him with two fingers on the side of his neck. Antonio was stood slightly behind with his hands behind his back.

"His pulse is regular," Francis said after a few seconds. "He should come out of it fairly soon."

Antonio smiled. "That's good. I've never liked dealing with casualties to be honest. They're a little out of my depth."

"None of us are doctors, unfortunately," Francis sighed. "Do we have any spare sleeping bags or camp beds? I'll let Feliks keep my bed for a while." So this was Francis' room, Lovino noted.

"Should have a couple," Antonio replied cheerfully. "You staying the night too, Lovi?"

Lovino blinked. He hadn't realised the Spaniard had noticed him come in the room. "Maybe," he said cautiously.

"Well, you'll have to decide where to sleep if you want to stay."

"What?"

"There's only three bedrooms in here, as the fourth's a kitchen," Antonio explained. "And Feliks is staying in Francis' room, so you have to decide which one you want. Or more specifically, who you'd prefer as a roommate."

Lovino looked aghast. "Roommate? With you bastards? No way. I'll sleep in the other house, thanks."

Antonio raised his eyebrows. "Really? Well, that's your choice. But unless you've got a lock on your doors, people'll come in and rob you. Beat you up too, most likely. We've had three raids there in the last two nights. This disaster's really brought out the worst in people."

"Then give me a lock."

Antonio shook his head. "Only got enough for this house, I'm afraid. If you want safety, you'll have to stay here."

Lovino sighed in exasperation. "Fine. I'll sleep in the kitchen."

"Désolé, Lovino," Francis continued. "But that's where we store everything overnight. Records of people, weaponry, supplies, et cetera. We've got quite a lot that we'd prefer not to get taken."

Weaponry? Lovino frowned. "The hallway then."

"Same problem."

"Cazzo." Lovino scowled.

Antonio looked briefly shocked, but didn't say anything. "Sorry, but your choice is to leave here and find somewhere else safe, or share a room."

"That's a Hobson's choice, damn it! There is nowhere else safe! Agh! I'll stay."

"Excellent!" Antonio smiled. "I'll set up a sleeping bag in my room now." He brushed past Lovino and started to head out.

Lovino grabbed his sleeve. "Wait a second, bastard. Who said anything about sharing a room with you?"

Antonio looked slightly downcast. "Well, as I said, it's your choice. But I just thought you'd prefer this than sharing with Gilbert."

Lovino had to prevent himself from swearing again. The Spaniard was right once more. He let go of Antonio's arm and folded his arms in silent, if reluctant, agreement. Antonio regarded him with those green eyes for a moment, then left without another word.

Francis chuckled behind him, as if at a private joke. Lovino ground his teeth. This seemed to be getting worse and worse, and he couldn't think of another option out of it.

So, Lovino has decided to stay, for the moment. Things ensue. And will continue to ensue.

Just as a thing, a Hobson's choice means no choice at all. See, there was this Cambridge innkeeper who'd offer buyers the horse nearest the door in his stable, or no horse at all.
Am wondering if I need to up the rating for this fic...cazzo is a rudey word. Lovi needs his mouth washing w/ soap.