Sunlight begun to creep through the slits in the curtains and started to ever so slowly fill every corner of the room with it's irritating glow and radiating warmth. Currently lay on his back covered from his neck to his toe in a thin cotton blanket, one solitary beam of light crept up over the rectangular frame of the mattress and found itself fixed right across Cold's eyes, stirring the sleeping male from his uneasy slumber and dragging him back into the waking world kicking and screaming.

"Shit..." Cold muttered silently to himself as he turned his head over to avoid the suns unforgiving rays. "What time is it?"

All at once, a gigantic wave of powerful emotions overcame him and forced a guttural moan from his lips, a throbbing pain in his lower stomach knocking the wind from him as his body finally begun to wake up with the rest of him. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes as the pain destroying his stomach gradually begun to make itself at home in the pit of his belly, Cold was struggling to remember a time in his life where he felt as bad as he did in that exact moment.

Cold's mouth was unbelievably dry like he hadn't drank in days. His ears had an odd and seemingly unshakable ringing noise pounding through them that Cold was sure would lead to an unforgiving headache sooner rather than later. Perhaps most strangely enough his stomach felt like it had been tore wide open before being forced back together, albeit incorrectly if the heaviness was anything to go on. It didn't take much for Cold to decide that doing anything even remotely physical was completely off the cards for the moment.

Just how did he get into this wretched state? As far as Cold could remember he didn't owe anyone money, at least not anyone capable of doing this to him anyway.

It wouldn't have been one of his Rogues, at least he didn't think one of them would do this to him, although truthfully he wouldn't put it past them.

It wouldn't have been The Flash, he was far too moral to try and mortally wound someone. At least Cold thought so anyway. He hadn't pushed The Flash far enough yet to test that theory out and with how he was feeling now Cold honestly wasn't sure if he was ever going to risk it.

As Cold continued to mull over the seemingly countless theory's as to why he was in this state, a flash of green, red and white mixed together with maniacal laughter appeared behind his sealed eyes and Cold couldn't help but pout at the sudden realisation.

Oh right, that'd be why.

Sitting up in his bed and failing to silence a pathetic moan as he did so, Cold puffed out a tired sounding sigh as he pushed the thin blanket down to just above his waist and forced his back down flat onto the solid wooden headboard behind him, his right hand instinctively moving up along his body and placing itself down tenderly over the wide, red stitched gash running up his pale stomach.

If Cold were being completely honest with himself, he was genuinely lucky to be alive all things considered. Just how many folk went up against The Joker and actually lived to tell the tail? That said, he was feeling too sorry for himself to really think straight so Cold put a pin in that line of thought and got straight back to sulking.

Dear lord, Why was it always Cold who had to get gored?

As he'd come to expect living with as many people as he did, Cold wasn't left alone with his thoughts for all that long before someone decided to intrude on his precious privacy by making their way into his room. Thanks to the sunbeams that had intruded on his slumber, it wasn't hard to make out just who the figure entering the room was. Thankfully for Cold, it was only Hartley.

"Oh! You're... you're up." Hartley said. "Hmm, I estimated that you'd have been out for a few more days when they first brought you back. Impressive if nothing else"

"Not even a 'Oh Lenny, I'm so glad your okay' eh? Typical Piper. Anyway, what're you doing in my room" Cold said with as much of a smirk as the pain in his stomach would allow him to make.

"Hmph. Well you know me. I'd be lying if I said I cared either way, but if you must know Lisa's had all of us all watching you on a strict schedule and low and behold, It's was my turn to keep watch. Didn't look like you were going to pull through, so she decided being overly cautious was better than having a dead brother." Hartley replied flippantly as he moved himself forward and sat down on the foot of the bed. "Loving the grey chest-hair by the way. Very macho."

Cold blushed slightly at the other's remarks and pulled the blanket up to cover his torso, suddenly feeling very exposed and oddly self-conscious in front of Hartley. There were few things he hated on this planet more than how easily Piper managed to get under his skin.

"Bravado aside, how are you feeling?" Hartley asked, looking up towards Cold with a rather indifferent look on his face.

"Like shit. Going toe-to-toe with The Joker'll do that to you, or so I'm told." Cold replied with a shrug. "Can't wait to hear what Luthor's got to say about this."

"Tell me about it." Hartley replied dryly as he gestured timidly towards his badly battered and bruised face and then towards his bandaged wrists. Cold winced at the sight of Hartley's injuries and recoiled back into the head board. Christ alive. The Joker really had done a number on poor old Hartley Rathaway. Cold almost felt sorry for the little twerp. Almost.

"I'd say 'Thank you' for killing him for me, but I've got a feeling I'd have to join a pretty long line of scorned citizens if I wanted to do that. I've heard that he wasn't exactly he most popular character around Gotham." Hartley said sardonically as he delicately rubbed his bandaged wrists in a circular motion, seemingly unaware he was doing so.

"I wouldn't thank me just yet Piper. I'm willing to bet they haven't found a body among the planes wreckage, right?" Cold said, wishing nothing more than that Hartley was about to prove him wrong on this occasion.

"And Bingo was his name-o." Hartley said monotonously as he slowly begun to clap at Cold's reply. "The GCPD confirmed that the clowns corpse wasn't among those inside the wreckage. That said, Black Mask and Pyg are still locked up in the GCPD last I heard, so it's not all bad news." Hartley confirmed with a shrug while Cold couldn't hold back the defeated sigh that followed. All that shit and the Clown wasn't even dead. Can't a guy catch a break?

"Still, It's impressive you knew that the clown's corpse wasn't among the wreckage. Who knew you were a psychic? If this whole 'Cold-Pun Slinging Bastard' thing doesn't work out for you, I'd be willing to bet you could give Miss Cleo a run for her money with your own Psychic Network" Hartley said as he continued to fawn over his wounded wrists, not paying all that much attention to Cold either way.

"Ha. You always were so witty Hartley. Shame your constant need for validation always found a way of hiding that." Cold said with a sneer while Hartley couldn't help but roll his eyes.

"And just like that, I feel less bad about wishing that The Joker had killed you up on that rooftop. If only he'd thrust that Knife just an inch or so deeper then we wouldn't be having this conversation. Ah well, one can dream." Hartley said playfully while Cold barked out a hoarse sounding laugh. If nothing else, the obnoxious little shit was funny.

For a moment, they both sat in what Cold would describe as awkward silence. It was a pretty well known fact that the two never really got along, Hartley's abrupt dismissal from The Rogues last time was testament to that, but honestly Cold didn't have the energy to engage in a war of the words with the younger male sitting at the foot of his bed. Who'd have though both of them almost being killed by The Joker would bring a momentary end to their legendary feud. If the Clown hadn't tried to gore him not too long ago, Cold might have had to thank him.

"Right, I really hate to ask, but where are we and how many days have I been out." Cold eventually asked, trepidation dripping from his tone as he spoke.

"I was wondering when you'd finally sum up the courage to ask. Fret not, it's not been that long. As of right now you're in Axel's old bedroom in your very own apartment, so we're back in Central City. And I'm happy to report you've only been in that coma for Ten days. Pretty impressive if you ask me. I genuinely had money on you not pulling through. Looks like I owe Axel twenty bucks." Hartley said a bit too casually for Cold's liking.

"Honestly at this point, I think having not survived would be easier than this. Every inch of my body feels like it's on fire." Cold admitted almost bashfully as he rubbed the aching wound on his stomach tenderly.

"You're saying that now, but at least the rest of the Rogues actually cared enough about you to have bothered saving you. You may have all travelled to Gotham to come to my much appreciated rescue, but the second those Doll-O-Trons attacked the motel Axel and Mark took off without so much letting me know." Hartley said, an unmistakable tone of betrayal lacing his tone as he recounted the events of that fateful night in Gotham. Up at the top of the bed, Cold tried his best not too, but honestly couldn't help but laugh at Hartley's plight.

"What are you laughing at?" Hartley asked. "It's not funny Len! They took off without so much as a warning. I was left at that damn motel while they ran of too your rescue!" Hartley exclaimed, while Cold's laughter rang around the room.

Even though with every hearty chuckle it felt as though his stomach was about to explode, that little tale was too funny not to laugh at. Not dying on that rooftop might have its benefits after all.

The next few weeks passed by in a flash, no pun intended.

Without so much as a hitch the five Rogues, and Hartley too since it would seem that he didn't have any plans to actually get out of the apartment, had all settled back into what seemed to be some level of twisted domesticity.

Mark and Axel had apparently taken their surviving all the madness in Gotham City as a sign that it was time too kick their relationship up a notch, as according to Lisa they hadn't even been in the apartment for five whole minutes before Axel begun the long arduous process of moving all his stuff into what was now both his and Mark's room. Cold had to admit, he was oddly happy for the pair of them.

Lisa seemed to have decided to split her time between caring for her brother and sneaking out of the apartment, probably to see whoever this mystery beau of hers was. As of yet Cold and the rest of her house-mates were yet to get a name of this mystery man or woman, but much like everything else that happened within these four walls the truth would surface eventually. Living with five super-criminals usually saw that secrets didn't remain so, for too long anyway.

Cold's rehabilitation however was plodding along at an agonizingly slow rate. It was going on four weeks since that night at Gotham and as of yet Cold couldn't even get up to go to the bathroom without someone walking him to and from like some sad old man. As demeaning as it was, whenever he felt the need to complain about this, and anything else for that matter, Lisa never failed to bring up the fact that Cold was lucky to be alive.

Besides having the opportunity to laugh in Hartley's face about his being left behind back in Gotham however, Cold was yet to feel all that lucky.

Then there was Mick. Where to begin...

Ever since he was a child, Cold hadn't really ever relied on anyone, it's just how things were. From a very young age he'd learned to care for himself and had tried his best to care for Lisa at the same time. Growing up with a abusive parental figure tends to force unwanted maturity down children throats, and Cold was no exception to the rule. It was a horrible and self-destructive way to live, but it was just the way things were. No point in swimming against the tide. Cold had made peace with it, unfortunately it seems that Mick had not.

Ever since that fatefully morning where he had somehow managed to drag himself from the throes of death itself, Mick had decided that being overly clingy and hanging around Cold like a bad smell was the best way to help his on-off lover. A rather infamously solitary creature at heart, needless to say Mick's constant outpouring of affection wasn't exactly to Cold's refined tastes.

The constant kissing and cuddling wasn't even the worst part of it. Cold couldn't do anything around his own apartment without Mick following him around like a damn puppy. If Mick wasn't offering him a seat, he was offering to make him meals. If he wasn't doing that, he was getting him drinks. If he wasn't doing that, he was fluffing Cold's pillow and all that lovey-dovey crap that Cold really couldn't stand.

Never in his life would Cold ever dream of admitting it to a living soul, but under different circumstance then maybe Cold would have found Mick's protective gestures romantic or something along those lines, instead his constant attention was making him feel like a fucking invalid whenever he saw Mick coming his way. Not exactly ideal.

Lisa had mentioned to Mark and Axel that it was only a matter of time before things blew up inside that apartment. As per usual, turned out Lisa was right. It was unfortunate however that everything seemed to blow up the second a knife was involved.

"Mick, Next time you come near me I'm going to cut your fucking eyes out. Take a step back and get out of my face already!" Cold snapped, turning his attention away from the still unprepared sandwich on the counter in front of him and brandishing the buttered knife in his hands right at Mick in a wild display of aggression. Mick in turn had thrown his hands up to eye level and was backing away from the knife-wielding Rogue before him incredibly slowly.

"I'm just trying to help Lenny! C'mon, don't be difficult. You need all the help you can get right now!" Mick said incredulously while Cold continued to point the knife towards him.

"I'm making a fucking sandwich Mick, I don't need you hovering around me like a fucking ghost!" Cold spat out as he inched further away from the counter and towards Mick, the knife in his hands still held tightly and pointing right towards Mick's neck. "Now get lost before I do something you'll regret!"

The pair seemed far too wrapped up in their little stand-off to notice that Axel had sat himself down on a stool and was now sitting right up against the counter, watching the escalating feud with a Cheshire like grin on his face and his phone held in his hands, recording every second of the fight to enjoy later.

"Jesus Chris Lenny, enough already. I'll go." Mick muttered in reply as heaved out a stressed sounding sigh and finally took the hint, dropping his hands to his sides as he slunk out of the kitchen area with his head hanging down like a berated child.

"Fucking hell..." Cold whispered to himself as he placed one hand back onto his still achingly sore stomach and used the other to balance himself off of the counter, letting the buttered knife drop down onto the floor as he tried to calm himself down.

Cold was self-aware enough to admit that perhaps his treatment of Mick right now could have been seen as an over-reaction, but after weeks of dealing with this constant nonsense he'd had just about enough of it. He was never planning on actually stabbing Mick, but if that's what it took to get a few moments of peace in this damn apartment then he'd have to start carrying a knife around with him everywhere he went.

Turning back around to look towards the still unmade sandwich lying on the counter, Cold froze dead in his tracks as he saw Axel, who by this point had shifted his stool around the counter, with his elbows planted down firmly onto the counter as he finished what looked to be the final bite of Cold's precious sandwich.

"What? You know you can't leave food laying about with me around dude. Grievously Injured or not, ya snooze ya lose big guy." Axel said with a shrug and a sadistic giggle as he rose from his spot at the counter and walked out of the kitchen area with a spring in his step.

Still frozen on the spot, Cold couldn't help the pathetic sounding moan that escaped his lips as he lamented the loss of his precious sandwich. He'd almost been killed by a psychotic clown for god sake, why was the universe out to get him recently? Things for Cold got infinitely worse when he remembered that he'd just used the last two pieces of bread to try and make that sandwich in the first place.

Oh well, there was nothing else too it. He'd just have to burn the apartment down.

Things inside the Rogues shared apartment continued to get more volatile as tensions continued to mount. Despite the ever growing threats of violence and other such dramatics, Mick continued to try and force his help onto the still wounded Cold, who in turn continued to act his namesake whenever Mick approached him, which in turn made Mick try harder and harder to get his companion to open up to him. It really was a vicious cycle, and while the others found it amusing for a little while, several weeks into the same routine things were finally beginning to feel a little bit stale.

Sensing that a storm worse than that which Mark could whip up in his wildest dreams was going to hit the little apartment if her brother was locked up in there for one more day, Lisa took it upon herself to decide that it was best if she dragged her older brother out of the house for a spell to try and give him a break from the constant attention being forced upon him by the unwitting Mick.

Upon hearing that Mick was banned from said outing, Cold couldn't have agreed to it quicker.

Cold had to hand it to Lisa, getting out of that apartment for even just the afternoon was wonderfully refreshing, especially since this little outing was one that didn't include the ever clingy Mick.

Currently sat in the corner booth of a small diner just off the main street and Town Hall, Cold leaned back in his chair and carefully nursed the piping hot cup of coffee held tenderly in his hands while across from him both Mark and Lisa continued to chat amongst themselves without any sign of slowing down.

Cold wondered to himself if this was the same cafe that Lisa, Mark and Axel had come too last time after they'd held up the mall a few months prior, but didn't really care enough to ask.

Normally being excluded from the conversation would leave Cold feeling a touch put out, but without sounding dramatic just being allowed to be left alone with his thoughts was more than he could ask for considering how hectic his life had become in the last few months. As someone who placed some level of peace and quiet as a top priority to retaining his sanity, it was nice to finally just lose himself in his thoughts.

"Hey Len, Mark asked you a Question!" Lisa snapped from besides him, forcefully dragging Cold out from his moment of peace and quiet and back into the conversation. Cold had yet to decide if he was relieved or disappointed to finally be a part of it. For now he was going to go with 'Disappointed'.

"Huh? Oh sorry Mark, seems that I'm not really all that with it today. What were you saying?" Cold said with a wince as he turned his frame around in his seat to face Mark more clearly.

"I was just asking how you were since you were being awful quiet, but that answers that I suppose." Mark said with a cocky smirk as he took a sip from his own cup of coffee.

"That it does my friend. I'm about as on the ball as a dead seal today. Getting gored will do that to you." Cold said in a mocking tone, placing a hand down onto the long scar underneath his shirt while Mark laughed and Lisa just shook her head.

"Oh my god. You're never going to let that go are you? Would you like some wax for your cross Lenny?" Lisa sneered, only just managing to resist the urge to elbow her brother in his side.

"Well I was gored Lisa. I think a little sympathy isn't too much to ask." Cold replied without missing a beat, much to Marks amusement.

"You've had almost six weeks of sympathy Lenny. No one asked you to go toe-to-toe with The Joker after The Flash stopped the disruptor, but then again, subtlety isn't a word in your vocabulary is it?" Lisa said curtly while Cold threw her a wicked glare in reponse.

Before anyone had a chance to say much else, the tension almost immediately dissipated when Mark's phone, currently laying face-down on the table, started to vibrate. Turning his attention away from the feuding siblings, Mark looked down towards the phone and snatched it up off the table. For the briefest moment, Lisa glanced down at the phone, making a strange face when she saw who it was. It was Julie.

"Sorry. I uh, I gotta take this." Mark said as without another word he rose to his feet and paced on up and out of the diner.

"Jesus. That can't be good." Lisa replied as the door to the cafe finally closed back over behind Mark.

"What do you mean? Who was calling?" Cold asked.

"Julie. Julie Jackham. Y'know, Marks ex." Lisa said, her eyes now trained before her on the window, watching Mark pace back and forward outside with his phone placed up onto his ear.

"I know who Julie is Lis. She's little Josh's Mom. Why is her calling him a bad thing though? I thought they were on good terms?" Cold said.

"They are. It's just... Uh... I don't know if I should be the one to be telling you this..." Lisa admitted.

"Lisa, what's happened?" Cold asked, sitting forward and looking towards his sister with widened eyes and a heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach. If Lisa was acting coy about something, then you could bet it was bad.

"Uh... well, Julie's si..." Lisa started, before the sound of rapturous applause outside drew their conversation to a rather abrupt halt.

Across the street at the bottom of the steps into the City's Town Hall, an unbelievably large crowd of Central City citizens had gathered and were all screaming and cheering wildly as they stood wide eyed and looking upwards towards a tall dark skinned woman stood halfway up the steps into the Hall wearing sleek bottle-green suit, surrounded by a team of burly, stone faced security men.

The woman in question was one Rosalind Dillon, an up-and-coming candidate from the Democratic Party who over the last few weeks had declared her candidacy for the upcoming Central City Mayoral Election.

Standing over 6 feet tall, Dillon towered over the citizens beneath her rather noticeably. That said, not once did Rosalind ever stop beaming down towards the citizens crowded before her with open arms, saying something Cold couldn't quite pick up on from within the diner. If the wild sounding roar from the crowd that followed her remarks was anything to go on, whatever she had to say had went down well.

After being bed-ridden for close almost two whole months, Cold's had officially made his way through his 'Mob Wives' box-set and had decided that instead of subjecting himself to yet another reality TV show he'd undoubtedly become addicted too that keeping up with what was happening in the real world was a better idea than the alternative.

News Channels were never Cold's favourites to be fair. Living the life of a wanted criminal made him feel a little jaded towards the news and their unforgiving views on his lifestyle, but luckily for him news of what had happened in Gotham had gotten old quickly and most stations had moved on to covering the upcoming election, and more importantly, letting anyone watching know each and every single detail about the potential candidates. While most of them were scum Cold wouldn't even piss on if they were on fire, a certain Ms. Dillon had managed to attract Cold's attention for reason's he couldn't quite explain.

Her views and goals were nothing special in his opinion in his opinion, but out of the current roster of potential candidates Cold would be voting for her if he could. That said, something about her seemed... off. Dillon was too smiley, too warm and far too pleasant to be genuine. Cold couldn't quite place his finger on what exactly it was that had left him feeling this way, but his instincts hadn't ever proven wrong before, best to just keep on trusting them until it got him into trouble.

Before he had time to stew over his feelings of discontent where Ms. Dillon was concerned, a sharp jab to his side once again dragged Cold out of his line of thought and back into the conversation.

"You really aren't with it at all are you? What is it about the infamous Ms. Dillon that's got you acting like you've just had a Lobotomy Len?" Lisa teased as besides her, Cold merely shrugged in response.

"Sheesh, Cut me some slack already sis. Now, what were you saying about Julie?" Cold asked as he moved the chair around so he was properly facing Lisa, and also so he was out of the reach of her pointy and painful elbows. He couldn't quite stop himself from keeping at least the slightest modicum of her attention trained on the crowd gathered outside the Town Hall though. If nothing else the would-be Mayors ability to drum up hysteria in the citizens of Central City was something to be admired.

"Uh, It's not good news Len. Julie's... uhh, Julie's dying." Lisa said hesitantly, her body language tensing up before his very eyes as she awaited her brothers reply.

"What? What do you mean dying?" Cold asked frantically.

"She's got tumours in her say they're inoperable. Apparently she's got maybe a month or two too live. Mark's been taking it about as well as expected..." Lisa explained in a hushed tone.

"Holy shit. I can't believe it. When did he find that out?" Cold asked, the weight of the news hadn't quite hit him yet.

"The day after we all got back from Gotham. Seems she's been sick for a while but has been keeping it to herself. To be completely honest, both Mark and Julie seem more concerned about how they're going to break the news to Josh." Lisa said with a defeated sounding puff as she tried and failed to relax herself back into her chair.

"Jesus Christ... Can't believe I didn't know. I must've looked like a real ass, spending all that time talking about me when he's going through that."Cold admitted, feeling the shock beginning to fade and the sadness slowly taking its place.

"You didn't know. Plus, the rest of us have kind of picked up the slack." Lisa replied with a dismissive yet somehow understanding shrug of her shoulders. "That said, I've gotta hand it Axel. He's really stepped up to the mark, no pun intended. Ever since he found out he's been there for Mark, Julie and Josh. His new-found maturity is helping him win the title of 'Best Boyfriend Ever'." Lisa said with a smirk.

"Axel? Mature? This is the same guy who just last week stole my sandwich right from under me. You sure I didn't die up on that rooftop?" Cold asked with a chuckle while next to him Lisa just shook her head, although the slight smirk on her lips betrayed her otherwise frost demeanour.

Sucking in a shaky sounding breath, Cold placed both his hands down onto the table and pushed himself up onto his feet, making his way through the diner and towards the front door and after Mark. Turning his head over his shoulder to look back at Lisa as he went, Cold nodded towards her and continued to hobble towards the door.

"Right, well I'm away to clear the air. And when I get back we're going to have a serious discussion about this mysterious beau of yours you've yet to tell me about" Cold finished with a devilish grin while back at the table, Lisa's face turned the brightest shade of red he'd ever seen.

Cold stepped out of the cafe and into the light of the afternoon sun, his hand flying up to his face to shield his eyes from the ball of fire's unforgiving rays.

Across the street from him the rally was still in full swing, although at a glance it didn't look as though Rosalind was still actively encouraging the spiking madness. Looking to his left, then right, Cold sighed aloud when he saw Mark standing to the side of the cafe with his back pressed against the stone wall of the building with a lit-cigarette handing haphazardly from his lips. Shit, that wasn't good.

One of the many thing Cold and Mark had in common seemed to be the nasty habit of having a smoke whenever things got a bit more stressful than they were used to. Getting through to him could be harder than originally anticipated.

Exhaling silently, Cold placed his hands into the pockets of his Parka and strolled over to Mark, saying nothing as he stood next to his friend and leaned back against the wall too.

"Got a smoke?" Cold asked while next to him, Mark said nothing as he reached into the pocket on the inside of his jacket and withdrew a single cigarette, handing the cigarette and a disposable lighter over towards Cold, who accepted them with a grateful nod.

"Thanks." Cold muttered back as be begun spinning the cigarette between his fingertips, delaying actually smoking it for the time being. Cold couldn't be sure, and he certainly wasn't going to ask, but it almost looked as though Mark had been crying.

Raising the stick up to his mouth and placing it snugly between his barely parted lips, Cold raised the lighter up to the tip and lit the cigarette, puffing on it once or twice while the two men continued to stand facing the crowd in front of them in complete silence.

"So..." Cold started, balancing the cigarette between his lips as he turned to look up at Mark. "You wanna talk about it."

"Not really." Mark's replied eventually, his voice low and gravely as he continued to stare daggers at anyone who was unfortunate enough to make eye contact with him.

"Fair enough." Cold replied with a shrug as he puffed in yet another draw from the ever-dwindling cigarette. "Without getting all sentimental, Just know that I am here to listen if you need me."

Next to him, Mark looked down towards Cold with a curious look on his face. For a moment, Cold genuinely though that he was about to face the wrath of the infamous Weather Wizard, but after a few moments of tense unrelenting silence Mark heaved out an exhausted sounding sigh and sunk down onto the pavement below with a hollow sounding thump.

Shrugging his shoulders and deciding to throw caution to the wind, Cold once again clamped his hand down hard onto his stomach and followed Mark's example, leaning back against the wall and sliding down onto the floor to sit side by side with his friend.

For the next few minutes, the pair sat in in a comfortable silence, content with just smoking on the dwindling cigarettes in their mouths and watching the oddly contagious enthusiasm across the street continue to grow more and more uncontrollable, chuckling amongst themselves as the citizens continued to embarrass themselves over some pathetically unimportant new politician on the scene. Sometimes, these idiots were just beyond belief. It made Cold feel less bad about the multitude of heist's he was planning on pulling once he was back to full health.

"Thanks Lenny..." Mark eventually said without turning to face Cold, flicking the now finished cigarette down into the gutter a few feet ahead of them.

For a second, Cold genuinely considered being his usual snarky self, but thankfully Cold had enough common sense to push those annoying urges to the side. Raising one hand up and resting it down onto Mark's shoulder, Cold squeezed gently on it as some pathetic little display of comfort. Oh god, Cold wasn't good at this at all.

"Don't mention it... buddy" Cold said hesitantly, wincing at his pathetic little awkward display of comradely while next to him, Mark couldn't help but chuckle. Glad to see someone found his support not completely tragic.

Almost like a sign from God himself, the need to continue on with being a moral support for his eternally broody friend was cut short when from within his jacket pocket Cold's mobile phone begun to vibrate.

"Oh god... guess I better check that." Cold muttered as he withdrew his hand from Marks shoulder and begun fishing inside his jacket pocket for his phone.

Pulling the device out and into the sunlight, Cold swiped in his pin and couldn't help but grimace at the message he had received.

"Enough is enough Len, We Need to Talk.

Mick"

Oh shit.