Night arrived without difficulty. The café was the same as ever, and Ivy and the two boys assisted as unofficial helpers at times. And then, when the Little Daisy was practically cleaned out, and the sun had set, speakeasy patrons soon arrived. Rocky, Mordecai, and Freckle would, of course, be busy. Ivy had, for a couple of weeks now, agreed to stick around later than she might usually, to watch over the café. Partly because Mitzi offered extra pay, because she served as a useful sort of watch up on ground level, but mostly because it got her more involved in the whole bootlegging thing than if she were to go home and sleep early. She would have preferred to be down in the speakeasy, but Mitzi let her come down when things were wrapping up.
Horatio had also been brought back when the speakeasy was evidently picking up again. He hadn't been furloughed per se, but he hadn't been brought in for a bit. He had been about to start looking for another, perhaps more legal job when Mitzi brought him back in. Doubtless, he was impressed to see how much things had turned around. His job was slightly easier and already somewhat done due to Ivy's presence upstairs, but he was useful regardless. And the band, even with Zib's prolonged absence, continued to play night after night, given the newfound business. It wasn't quite as good, missing Rocky, Zib, and without the occasional presence of Mitzi. But Mitzi promised they would be back in order soon enough. Besides, how could they argue with a paycheck?
And, to the surprise of just about everyone, bar the patrons, who hadn't been let in on any of the challenges befalling the Lackadaisy, that night was just as calm as the day preceding it. The boys guarded the various entrances, and yet that night there wasn't a single Marigold grunt sent their way. Rocky certainly appreciated it, given his still fresh injuries from the last gunfight. Mordecai too, for the same reason. And Freckle was glad that he still wouldn't have to deal with a whole brigade on his own; not that he couldn't handle that. And when the night wrapped up, the patrons, mostly drunk, shuffled up the stairs and out of the café. Ivy and Horatio took their leave, along with the band. Rocky put Mordecai back into the storeroom, and the cousins left together. Mitzi retreated to her tenement and quickly passed out.
The next day, the day continued like any other day in the midst of the war. One such event was the conversations between Rocky and Mordecai in the empty establishment. Mitzi had tasked them with doing some light cleaning while they were down there; there was a slight mess after the last night. The two were sweeping and tossing a couple of bottles left on the ground, like servants cleaning up after a lavish party in a mansion or something. Perhaps one on the east coast, like in New York.
"No, I don't do those sorts of things," Mordecai explained.
"Really? None?" Rocky asked, befuddled.
"None."
"Hmm. Well, next time, I'll have to come with you."
"Next time?" Mordecai grabbed a bottle from underneath a chair.
"Well, yeah. It happens every year. Unless you're, I don't know, a space alien."
Mordecai paused for a moment. He tossed the bottle into the bag beside him. Standing up, he quietly added, "Yes, next year."
Rocky stopped and looked back at Mordecai. Rocky was getting better at deciphering Mordecai's facial expressions, but he couldn't get this one. "Are you alright?"
Mordecai glanced up and met Rocky's gaze. Mordecai was alright. But he was thinking again. Next time. Rocky threw around the phrase 'next time' as if it was definite. But it wasn't. Rocky knew just as well as Mordecai that his plan was to go back to the Maribel after all of this. And with that, there would be no 'next time'. Most likely, they wouldn't even see each other again after that. And yet, Rocky promised to be around during Mordecai's next birthday so pleasantly content, so sure of such a thing happening. And such a thing would be nice. His feelings toward Rocky muddled his thoughts, as was usual now.
"Mordecai?" Rocky was starting to look worried.
Mordecai didn't realize how long he'd been standing there, staring off into the distance. "Oh, yes. Apologies." He wanted to disappear some of the distance, some of the coldness, and admit to Rocky that he'd love to have Rocky do that. But Mordecai wasn't ready for that; he had yet to make a decision on it. And Mordecai wasn't going to make such an important decision based on impulse. ...But, Mordecai could try to make a decision. Indeed, he'd said to himself yesterday that he would have a conversation pertaining to work, and aligning himself between the two establishments with Rocky. With any conversation relating to fickle feelings being completely off the table anyway, and such thoughts already stuck in his head again, it was a good time to have such a conversation.
"I'm having trouble deciding whether to return to the Maribel after all of this." Mordecai admitted, "And the only other option in terms of speakeasies is, of course, here." He gestured with his hand to the space around him.
"...Oh?" Rocky wondered, pausing his sweeping for a moment, "Why's that?" He quickly spoke again, "That you're having trouble deciding, that is. Not that, uh, we're the other option."
"Well," Mordecai took a breath, "I hardly want to go back to working with Asa, or with the Savoys. Those three are nearly insufferable. And I don't know how Asa would respond if he were to figure out I assisted the Lackadaisy while I was a hostage. And that's without mentioning the possibility that you lot end up actually severely damaging the Maribel, against all odds, as seems possible right now."
"...Alright, well, what's making it hard to not go back, then?" He was standing upright, leaning on the broom very slightly. Rocky was paying attention. Completely.
"First of all, I have no idea how Mitzi would find it in her to let me back in. I've heard her talk enough about me since becoming captive to understand she can hardly hide her disdain. And that's without mentioning what awkwardness there would be regarding Viktor. We've made amends, granted, but that can't resolve everything. And what about what might happen with Ivy? She took the first opportunity we spoke to reprimand me for what happened with Viktor. And your cousin clearly has some level of distrust with me." He wasn't going to mention why that might be, of course.
"Ah, well, Mitzi's been being less hostile recently. She might see that you're really not bad."
"Perhaps. But there's also the possibility that I choose to align with Lackadaisy, only for the Maribel to do well again, and I'm put back in the same situation that caused me to leave in the first place." Mordecai's mind briefly thought back to the kneecapping incident. Again. Then, his mind decided to take his own words and take them literally. Kneecapping Rocky. He shut it out of his mind with a bit of a wince.
"And as foolish as it might be in terms of logic," Mordecai began, "coming back to the Lackadaisy practically invalidates any reason for that whole incident in the first place. That's to say, it would have been in vain."
Rocky, nearly cringing at that sentiment, was about to open his mouth when Mordecai continued. "And yet, some of the assignments Asa has tasked me and the Savoys," he spoke with contempt, "seem to be that of tying loose ties together on Atlas's death. Not tying them together, even— simply burning the loose ends off. And after the first lunch, I have reason to be suspicious of Asa in the incident. Staying with the Marigolds could give me an opportunity to discover the truth, but it also forces me to erase the evidence as I do. And perhaps in that circumstance realigning with the Lackadaisy is better, as I won't be destroying evidence, and I would be working against who I suspect is responsible, but I would be complicit in what might be done with the evidence, and in such a—"
"Mordecai, slow down," Rocky gave a weak smile, wanting to stay friendly and understanding, but clearly worried, "you don't have to talk so fast. And just forget that situation right now; it's just making things more complicated for you."
Mordecai sighed. "Yes. It doesn't make it any easier. Or simpler, indeed, for that matter." He took a breath. "And perhaps most simply of all," time to understate everything, "I would be reluctant to return to the Marigolds and be at odds with you, and Viktor, and perhaps even the rest of you, if they were lucky." Rocky chuckled somewhat awkwardly. "Even though you people did imprison me, and I'm not quite going to forget that, it would be… difficult to reconcile with the fact that I might be firing on you, or Freckle, or Viktor. And while I had dealt with such a possibility before being made a prisoner, coming back here after all of that time away has made the situation different. Coming to an understanding with Viktor, meeting you and your cousin— and even simply getting time away from the Marigolds to put into perspective how little I wish to return." Mordecai pushed his hair out of his face. It was getting longer here, in captivity. "With so many factors, it's more difficult to make a decision than I anticipated."
"Well… it sounds like you've been thinking about this a lot," Rocky stated. "I'm not really too sure that I can help you out. But, uh, if you can't stand Asa and the people you work with, and if you don't wanna be fighting against us, then don't go back to them. I'm sure that Mitzi would let you back in if you wanted to. And if for some reason she didn't, I would just have to convince her otherwise, okay?" Rocky leaned more onto the broom and, as it slipped, he nearly lost his balance. He played it off and stood up straight again. "As for, um, picking the side that'll do better, I can't help, I don't think. I mean, I think that we're doing well. But, well, you might know more about who's doing better than I do."
Rocky carried on. "And, well, hell, I can't make you not feel bad about what happened with Viktor. It's not even my place to push, even. So, heh, I guess I'm not really helpful at all, am I?" He half-chuckled. "But, if you decided to try and stick with us, I'd do everything that I could to help make that happen." He had the same glowing, optimistic grin on his face that he often did. Mordecai looked away to try and hide a difficult to sequester, yet certainly much more subtle, smile of his own. Rocky was so good. Rocky's smile faltered, "Mordecai? You alright?"
Mordecai immediately turned back, clearing his throat, returning to the cold exterior he often had. "Of course. Sorry."
"Well, I hope that I might've helped, Mordecai."
Mordecai nodded slightly. "Thank you." He took one main thing away from that conversation— sticking with the Lackadaisy was much more feasible, and perhaps much better, than he had originally intended. His mind still wasn't made up, not set in stone. But Mordecai would be lying to himself if he said that Rocky hadn't heavily swayed his opinions. Mordecai would start trying to make a spot for himself in the establishment's ranks, in case he did indeed decide to go with that.
And again the day passed by without much of interest. The speakeasy was clean and ready for another busy night. The café served food without issue, and was made barren as the night approached. Freckle and Rocky and Mordecai and Ivy were ready for another night of drinking and whatnot. Not them drinking, of course. And no one was quite sure whether to expect an attack or not; last night had made things somewhat more confusing, given the peacefulness of it.
Rocky and Mordecai were out in the garage, away from the business and the noise and all that. Rocky didn't mind, and Mordecai was somewhat thankful. Rocky had also spoken with Mitzi. He'd convinced her, begrudgingly, to arm Mordecai as well. She told him to warn Mordecai, on her behalf, that if Mordecai tried anything at all, Mitzi would stop providing him with anything. She added on, even food. The warning was unnecessary to him, but it got the message across. Indeed, Mordecai was given some other handgun. Upon the two having guns, they switched— giving Mordecai his own gun back, with Rocky having a right-handed gun.
Freckle was serving up drinks at the bar— something he was getting better at. Mitzi let him know that he looked positively dashing behind the counter, serving drinks in his suit. He enjoyed it. And he wasn't bad at it. But, after a while that night, he wanted to take a break from drinks for a bit. He let Mitzi know and went back to the garage. He would take the two boys' position guarding the garage in exchange for Rocky doing drinks. Mordecai would come with him, as Mitzi was still expecting Rocky to watch over him.
As such, the two switched places. Rocky would serve drinks, with the occasional assistance of Mordecai, and Freckle would guard the garage. All three were armed in the event of a Marigold attack. Although, with more time passing, it seemed increasingly less likely. Freckle sat down on a crate against the wall, appreciating the quiet. And Rocky and Mordecai were busy with drinks. Another night was going well.
