At around four in the morning, Murphy MacManus and his Da walked through the door to their apartment and found Connor asleep on the couch. He didn't wake up when they walked through the door, but he snapped his eyes open when Murphy threw his coat on top of his face.
"Where've ya been?" he asked groggily.
"We could ask you the same question. Where the fuck were ya?"
"I took a walk."
"Well we went and did our job. Ya know, the one that was your job too?"
"Where?"
"Fucking Russians on the east side."
"I thought they were gone."
"Eh… ya know those fuckers, they come back faster than rats."
"How'd ye do?"
"Got a few. A few of them got out before we managed to finish, which wouldn't have happened if you had been there." Murph glared at Connor accusingly.
"Well I'm sorry." But he stopped when Da looked at him. He didn't even have to say anything. "I'm sorry Da," he said, softer this time, and tried to convey to Da that he wouldn't make the same mistake twice. Da just handed him a beer and walked into his own room.
"Why won't you tell me where the fuck you've been going?"
It was pointless to lie to Murphy. They were twins after all, and they were accustomed to knowing pretty much everything about the other.
"I can't. I just don't think ye'd understand."
"Try me."
"I don't think I'm ready to yet."
"Well fine," Murph decided, tired of arguing about it. "But ye'd better tell me soon, because I'm beginning to think that ye've fuckin lost it."
