During the rest of the hours before closing time, it was just the four of them left to occupy the space after the last customer went out at around 11 o'clock.

Despite Elymas not participating in drinking with the other toons due to him still being clocked in until 12 and consuming alcohol while working wasn't allowed, the angel and demon continued their jawing conversations with shot glasses in hand, catching up on important and non-important things in their spare time away from their jobs. Although Gizmo and Elymas would throw in their two cents and conjectures now and then, the trail of banter, laughter, and whatever else gets thrown into the concoction is mainly lead by the mob boss and angel.

It wasn't until a little later that Abel is stealing a glance at the clock, squinting through fuzzy, heavy-lidded eyes while trying to make out where the clock's arms are pointing at. He sees them aimed at 11:35 respectively.

A quiet, audible moan escapes his throat when he realizes that it's getting late into the night, an additional burning sensation roused in the organic pipe. His head comically thunks against the bar counter, ignoring the slight pain taken to his forehead. The angel has been slumping against the counter, listing towards the left after having about 3 or four shots consumed. By now, thanks to the drinks in his system, both sets of limbs felt like lead in his body, one arm curled around his faceplanted head while the other hangs loosely off its socket.

A short stretch of silence wafts through the quiet conversationalists before Abel wobbly lifts his head back up, right-turning it so that his drooping gaze falls on the mafia boss. "So, uh... what's the plan now, Bossman...?" The rebel angel mumbles out while grabbing one of the bottles and tipping the liquid into his glass.

The cartoon demon follows the rebel's lead on the drinking part, then stares at his now empty one as he relays the scheduled time. "Tomorrow evenin'. 10 P.M. Headquarters." His eyes nonchalantly shift towards the rebel angel, a cheeky smile spreading across his face. "When ya get there, we'll be takin' my car."

Abel erects from his seat at the mentioning of said vehicle and clenches his fists by his sides, wings puffing out a bit. The action gets both the crow's and the bartender's attention.

Flummox and acknowledged apprehensiveness is apparent through the rebel's rigid being, already coming up with different and dangerous scenarios through his mind. "Ho-oh, no!" He unclenches both hands, comically swiping his arms diagonally up and down in 'X' formations as if he was dicing vegetables in the air, all the while saying his gainsaid. "No, no, no, no, NO! Nu-uh!" A finger points at the mob boss. "One time I was in that car of yers, ye drove the thing in the Lune River!"

And as the angel toon intoxicatedly rants on about the Flying Fish Filch escapade, Benicio just idly sits with an entertained smirk.

Gizmo stares at the drunk in a perturbed fashion while Elymas semi-ignores the ordeal, cleaning up the areas that needed to be cleaned.

While recalling the enjoyable recollection - and, at the same time, slightly listening - the demon takes and tips the contents from one of the bottles into the empty shot glass. He chuckles when the part where Abel gets fish-slapped by three of the goons while he just leans against a cement pillar comes up. Seconds after the glass became nearly full, another sip is taken out of it.

Abel, having finished with his rant, breaths in a bit more deeply before going back into the slumping position again. He places his head on top of his left arm, cheek smooshed against it. "Why don't I reckon us flyin' there instead...? It'd be much faster that way." The dopy face that he presents made Benicio want to get his camera out and snap it for blackmail material.

Said demon chokes a little on his whiskey. His head whiplashes towards the angel, eyes full of wide-eyed incredulousness. "NEVER!" An accusing glare comes in next. "I haven't forgotten that time ya flew us up to the highest level of The Morningstar Casino, only to leave me hangin' on one of their outdoor lamps for nearly half the day! I still have cramps in my arms an' legs sometimes from it!"

Abel then full-on laughs from the reply, bending backward and slapping a thigh as he remembers Benicio begging the rebel to get him down when coming back for him. Leaning frontward, he braces a right hand on his kneecap, trying and failing a bit to regain his breath. A broad grin is adopted when he faces the mafia boss, wiping a small tear away with a left finger. "Thanks, for remindin' me of that!"

Benicio groans, sending a heated glare and a scowl at the drunken angel.

"Yer face…" He chortles out. "While ye were hangin' from... that lamp pole... was amazin' to witness!" Another bout of laughter overtakes him. This time, it has the angel keeling over, having to brace the counter to prevent himself from falling off the stool.

What happens next has neither of them expecting it. All three toons jump when a white-gloved fist hits and creates a loud thunk on the bar top, causing both the rebel to halt his boisterous merriment and the glasses and bottles to rattle in their places. They all swivel their heads towards the toon crow, eliciting a small, crawling shudder down their backs.

The expression on Gizmo's face speaks deeply of peevishness - a sight that rarely shows itself towards any of them - and its sharpness is mostly directed at Abel. "Ye done ridiculin' te boss yet, laddie...?"

The crow gets up from his seat, taking several steps until he's right in front of the rebel angel. Not minding the height variance, he leans into Abel's face with his own, close enough to where there's a couple of inches in-between them.

The other's narrowed eyes, fierce with a fire of loyalty and protectiveness, coupled with both his fists trembling slightly by his sides, tells the angel that he should back off while he still can. The truth is, he doesn't want to fight the crow if he could help it. Reasons why is because Gizmo isn't a drunken stranger that annoys him, nor is he a close friend. He isn't gonna fight the crow out of a foolish, obnoxious, puppy-dog loyalty just because of his out-of-boundary actions with Benicio. The drunkenness, he can say sorry for, but he ain't gonna apologize for his friendliness towards the mob boss.

To lessen the steadily, brewing flame, even by a degree, the rebel angel delivers a couple of slow, understanding nods.

Despite Gizmo's gait having fewer feathers ruffled, it doesn't take away the challenging stare nor does he say anything about wanting an apology. "Good... 'cause, even after everythin' he's done fer us, ye still have te gal to laugh at 'im an' actin' te maggot." His scowl deepens as the accent gets a bit more pronounced. "Ye may wanna show 'im a wee more respect 'less ye got some guts left in ye to continue..."

At first, having been stupified by the crow's sudden outburst, the rebel had kept staring at him with widened eyes and a slightly unhinged mouth. Now, when the initial shock had swiftly faded from his face as the crow talks again, he frowns at Gizmo and raises an inquisitive eyebrow. "Jeez, Gizmo, I was just messin' with him. Was recallin' a fun memory from one of our earlier heists a few years back. Simple as that. Don't get pissed at me because of it."

Can't the toon bird just understand that he's allowed to mess with Benicio because of their companionable association?

"Well, news flash, Angel-McGee..." A finger shoves itself at the angel's chest. "Nobody, an' I mean nobody, laughs at te goddamn boss an' gets away with it."

Nothing moves nor another sound was created once his declaration became known.

Even Elymas, who is used to being in the background, listening in on customer's conversations just in case if anything proceeds to go awry, ceases in his cleaning task to inspect the three toons through narrowed, watchful eyes. Having the patience akin to a three-toed sloth, he'll wait when the fight breaks out. If anything damage-wise happens to his tavern, a gentleman, such as himself, shall dish out an appropriate consequence.

Benicio shifts his eyes between the angel and bird, gazing at them while unofficially acting as their boundary line. Unbeknownst to them - Elymas amusingly smiles at him from afar, a light-gray blush paints the demon toon's cheeks. It isn't out of embarrassment, but out of... Well, he doesn't exactly know what emotion sparked this reaction out of him, but the mob boss knows that proudness is within the mix.

However, this is becoming a bit awkward too quickly for his liking… Not being the one to get into a quarrel again is sorta nice, but having to be a referee for one isn't. He's not great at alleviating arguments, to begin with.

On one hand, the demon feels appreciation, seeing as one of his family members thinks of him that way. Sure, he's gotten admiration and devotion from before, even though some of the other toons saw him as a joke, but the real gratitude and respect, in his opinion, goes towards those that deserve it. They're the ones who stalwart their way through life without wanting much given to their name nor boisterously brag about their prolific achievements.

On the other, the angel did have a point when it comes to teasing him, but Benicio doesn't enjoy having them fighting over it. Being the head of one out of many organized crime syndicates in America, it gets tense and some pleasures had to be taken out for the sake of business affairs. Simultaneously, though, despite his love towards their teasing and the importance of strengthening bonds, there's no actual rule saying that he couldn't befriend others while having leisure time if it means that he can get some mutual benefits and connections out of them; though, he tries not to go through the sleazeball route like some would think.

Plus, the expression that the angel gave to the crow made him want to bust out laughing, just to get him back for doing so at his unfortunate hanging.

Either way, both of them have made his night and decision - that being, it's a good time to intervene before things began to get heated.

Benicio raises both his hands up as a sign of peace, showing an unoffended smile at the crow. He kinda hopes that the expression can allay him, but doesn't guarantee it. "Uh, Gizmo, ya don't have to -"

"Not now, Boss!" Gizmo cuts him off, shaking a hand at the demon while not breaking his stare.

Taken aback by the response, Benicio closes his mouth, the rest of the words dying off. Huffing, hidden disappointment manages to escape into his contemplated expression while watching the two toons go through their staring contest. Thinking that they both had too much alcohol, Benicio tenses slightly when Abel's wings mimic Gizmo's fists, knowing what's to come. The mafia boss doesn't wish for either of them to start breaking out into a fight; however, if one of them so much as launches a fist, then he'll have to separate them and let them both cool off outside.

As both their boss and companion, he wouldn't let an argument, nor a brawl, come separate comrades.

He turns to shoot a look at Elymas and the other nods in approval. That gets the demon grinning.

Let's try this again with a sense of style…

"Boys! Boys! Ya both pretty, but now's not the time to flip ya wigs!" Benicio's smoothly cuts into the staredown, his signature grin sweeping in as peace-signaling hands beat the air twice in front of him. "Ya two need to calm down before ya say somethin' that ya goin' to regret..." Arms plopping onto his lap, the grin drops to a scowl, and sober eyes shift slowly between the now attentive toons before locking onto them.

The angel and crow gave a glance to each other, a small seedling of dread starting to bloom within their stomachs.

"Before things get dicey, I don't need to remind ya two 'bout the third rule of our mafia family..." He lets the sentence pause in the air for a few seconds before continuing. "But... I'm going to anyway."

Before either of them utters a word, the boss beats them by a yell and slam of a palm to the bar top. Both toons jump from it.

"The third rule is 'No fightin' amongst yaselves'!" Benicio lowers his voice to a paternal threatening tone. "An' if I see one of ya tryin' to breakin' the rule again, I can personally promise ya that all hell... will break... loose… Understand me?"

One vigorously nods his head while the other does so with a half-hearted shrug, both of them thinking twice about creating a counterattack. Despite the friendly and jokester-ish aura that Benicio usually wears, it's best to try not to get on his bad side...

With that out of the way, the grin shoots back onto the demon's face. "Now then!" Getting rid of the tenseness in the air, Benicio loudly claps before standing up from his seat. "Apologies are in order, guys! I expect them to be done an' over with before evenin' tomorrow!" Finger guns are aimed at Gizmo and Abel while speaking. "Not a minute late or, uh..." Hands going up with a shrug, he chuckles ambiently. "Well, not gonna spoil it now, am I?" A teasing wink and a smirk is shot at the two

Abel plays it off with a disbelieving scoff and rolls his eyes at the demon's comical output. However, a hidden amount of relief somewhat gets him to slacken.

The mob boss then glances over at Gizmo. Said informant straightens up in his seat while looking at him in embarrassment, shame coloring his features due to his sudden outburst.

Benicio casually plops a hand onto the crow's head, not caring about the argument anymore so long as they've apologized. "Thanks for that, pal. Not a lot of toons stick up for me like ya did just now." And, he honestly means it, gratitude and all.

Gizmo is surprised by this.

"But, ya didn't have to do that to Abel though. We're pals, too, so he's allowed to mess with me an' I to him." Giving Gizmo a couple of pats, pie-cut eyes glance over to Abel, a sly expression with an elevated eyebrow slipping onto his face. "An' Abel? For gettin' back at ya, how 'bout the time ya got so piss-poor drunk that ya flew up to the ceilin' an' knocked yaself out onto Elymas?"

"Eh…?" Abel's head tilts over his shoulder, innocent curiosity taking into his features. "How'd ye know that…? I never told ye that..."

Benicio points his thumb over his shoulder. In the background, the barman's wiping down another booth table. "He did."

"Ah…" The head tilt rights itself when realization kicks in, making him smile. "Fair enough then."

"Good." Benicio swipes his shot glass and finishes it off in one go. A hard clunk comes when it hits against the counter. "Anyway, we agree that ya not flyin' an' we're takin' my car tomorrow." The mafia boss declares while smirking. "Done deal; no ifs, an's, or buts about it!"

Abel minutely gulps at the notion, wings wilting behind him. He hopes to not wind up in the hospital again...

Benicio pivots himself towards the exit. With a gesture of his head, the crow immediately complies and hops off of the stool to walk after him. Doing a 180° head turn, the demon waves a hand at the angel. "See ya tomorrow, Angel Face!" Latching at the doorknob, he swings it wide open like he did earlier. "Don't be late!" And with that said, the mafia boss leaves the building just as he entered with the informant, leaving Abel drooping in his seat, that dazed gaze following him.

Once the door shuts, the angel takes his glass once more and finishes off the whiskey just as Elymas comes over to wipe down the countertop, the rag hanging off by his side.

"Blimey…" His stupored eyes blink at the doorway, disbelief taking hold of both his face and voice. "If I didn't know any better," He turns towards Abel. "I say that you three are becoming quite the close mates, as of late." The bartender gives the other toon a lax smile while jesting. "In my honest opinion, I believe Benicio's liking you more than the previous times."

Abel quietly scoffs, sardonically smirking while waving a hand in the air. "Yeah, yeah, he's been alright..." He leans his back against the counter, still watching the door while muttering. "I mean, even when bein' around an obnoxious demon for so long, there are still far worse bastards out there than him..."

"I know what you mean…" The bartender then starts wiping down the bar top. "From what I could tell over the years, Benicio can be a tad ignorant sometimes -" A snort cuts him off. "Alright, more than a tad ignorant - but, I daresay, he mostly tries his best to fend those that he cares about." He stops wiping the rag around and leans an elbow on a dry area. "I don't have to remind you of his magnanimous generosity and ineptitude for some things. Even I still find those traits a bit too overwhelming at times…"

A soft smile shows on Abel's face. "I hear that. Doesn't go all willy-nilly on his spendin's, yet he's livin' it up there 'n can go all out if he wants to. Can't deal with children much 'n doesn't completely think on what's gonna happen after he does his antics, yet manages to rally up many of us in a homey package." He couldn't keep the slight praise out of his voice.

The angel gets a hum of approval. "That, I can agree upon. At the very least - and I'm not saying this out of sympathy for him - try to give him a chance..." He shoots a meager pointed look. "After that, it's your call."

"Don't have to tell me twice, my friend." Taking the last inhale off his forgotten cigar - which has become a stump at this point, then extinguishing it in the ashtray, Abel stands up from his stool. His stance wobbles, making him sway a little before rightening himself.

Apparently, a lot of eyebrows have been raised lately. Elymas, adding another into the count, shoots him one that's laced with concern. "Will you be alright going back home like that?"

Abel just replies with a mumbled 'Yep'.

And, after they wish each other a goodbye and goodnight, the angel's decision to walk back home alone is made.

Since his apartment complex is approximately several blocks away from the tavern, he'll take his time in getting some nice, fresh Spring air. Enjoying the city's awoken nightlife instead of being driven would do him good until then. Would probably even help with the oncoming hangover tomorrow if the temperature keeps it up. The streets that usually bustle with residential life are quieter than during the daytime; however, the illuminating city lights and colorful neon signs decorating the pathways through Toon Town help make up for that peacefulness.

Quite the enjoyment, if you ask him.

So, while he's thinking of getting some much-needed sleep once he gets home and opens up his bedroom window to continue feeling the breezy winds, Abel wasn't ready to smack himself into a street post. A monotonous sound fills the air with its ringing as the rebel stumbles back, his butt landing on the sidewalk. A quiet groan comes out of him while he keels over, having a hand holding onto the spot where his head met metal as the other gave side support. He swears that he can see harps circling above his halo, their strings being pulled and made into a song.

Quickly swatting them away, a glare is sent to the lamp post, both hands now raised into fists. Abel then quickly gets up to lightly kick the bottom, as if it had offended him, before looking around for any eyewitnesses.

Nobody was around at the moment of his distraction, especially not Benicio.

He lets a sigh go. "Shouldn't've had too much…" A weak smirk makes its presence while facepalming. "Damn Devil would've had a good laugh if he saw that." A huff leaves him as he continues walking through the streets.

Rounding the final corner where a bookstore resides, he reaches home in under ten minutes. Across the street occupies a six-floor apartment complex. A pre-war, mid-rise type that takes up the other side's sidewalk corner, shielded in a brick style with a Renaissance Revival beauty weaved into its structure. Small balconies line themselves up on one side on his far-right while several lights speckle over it. It's nothing too fancy like the ones within the city or anything; just has the basic, livable attributes to get by on. That's all he really needs, in his opinion.

Abel's apartment is located on the 6th and final floor, a half-moon window being one of the indicators. The reason why he favors the level is that the elevator is almost always out of order and nobody can be bothered in climbing up the stairs to get there. Even the sometimes forgetful Landlady doesn't come up there due to the problems. The bonus in having a balcony with it is that it's easier for him to get in and out in a more convenient way. Also, he never gets bothered much by anyone other than by a few noisy tenants from two floors down, which can be easily ignored.

So, in other words, he has the floor all to himself. It's his main sanctuary to this date.

The angel toon faces said balconies, seeing the light-polluted, hazed heavens out of his peripheral vision. A semi-crooked grin adorns his face as both wings stretch themselves widely out. When the wind lightly flutters their feathers, they swing down fast and launch the angel into the air, the wind helping out in the short, brisk travel.

Wings beating a few times, he touches down upon the platform, the Douglas Fir doors leading inside greeting him.

The cartoon angel lightly swings those doors open and enters his darkened apartment, letting them shut themselves back into place. "Aaaaah! Home sweet home!"

Same as he regularly leaves it. The beige carpet covering a part of the wooden floor is a bit crooked for his liking, but he'll deal with it when he wakes up. Mint-green wallpaper, decorated with thin, vertical pastel yellow borders and white crown molds, surrounds much of the living room and dining area. To his left resides a sitting area, consisting of both a green leather three-seater and chair. They come at a 90° angle, the back of the chair facing the angel and the three-seater looking towards the casement row windows.

In the center of the sitting area resides a simple, oak coffee table while a small, round one stands by the sofa's right. Besides that, against the left-hand wall stands a mahogany sideboard. Upon it, rests an ordinary lamp and a Philco radio. Often enough, the angel tends to listen to either music or news stations from it. With the heists slightly increasing lately and him being needed by the mob boss, however, he doesn't do so as much than before.

Towards the left corner of the room stands two doorways. The one next to the sideboard and small table leads to Abel's bedroom while the other goes towards the bathroom. To the rebel's front, in-between the bathroom and kitchen entryways is a small dining area. It comprises only a set of four wooden chairs and a similarly-made, dining table. No pictures, no knick-knacks, just those simple commodities within a sparse space.

Finally, towards the angel's right is none other than the closed front door, which leads into the hallway where both the broken elevator and stairwell reside.

Slipping off his shoes and placing them on the right of the balcony doorway, he walks behind the three-seater to head towards the restroom.

Black and white-tiled flooring, alongside glove white-tiled walls that have a streak of black bullnose ones cutting through the middle, welcomes him when he reaches over to flip the toggle light switch up. A small chill runs up his feet upon entering, eyes squinting through the now seemingly bright enclosure.

The closet-sized bathroom only contained a simple set of necessities for around two people. An ivory sink stands at the left-hand wall, a plain, mirror cabinet hanging above it. The porcelain toilet sits across from the sink, a medium-sized hamper basket being adjacent to its right where it's close enough to the door. To complete the space, occupying the back is a clawfoot bathtub with the eggshell shower curtain drawn back. A round-headed shower piece and casement window accompanies it, closed white curtains hiding the latter.

Making a short trip to the bedroom, Abel comes back with some folded-up clothes. He sets them down onto the toilet seat and changes out of his civvies, swapping them for a pair of sleepwear that mainly comprises of just an oversized, white t-shirt with a blue cross etched on it and similar-colored sweatpants. After the last garment's on, the angel glances over at the mirror, seeing his reflection on its surface.

The crooked grin makes its reappearance as he plants a left hand on the sink rim, leaning half his weight on the limb. "Lookin' pretty good for a drunkard..." He charmingly comments, holding his chin with a finger-gun-esque right hand while absentmindedly inspecting his face from side to side.

A derisive scoff escapes him. Yeah right - as if the careworn, drunk toon staring back at him has anything to say about that.

The rebel angel shakes his head at his mind's silliness, blaming it on the alcohol and tiredness.

Taking a glance at the window, depending on how he interprets the shadowy brick wall on the other side of the alleyway, it was either still late or too early in the morning. Settling the thought on it being too early, Abel quickly brushes his teeth, then flips down the switch as he exits out of the restroom. Crossing the living room, the rebel angel uses the tip of his foot to correct the crooked rug before heading towards the rotary dial telephone and notebook, checking to see who he needs to call or not later. A certain demon takes a fancy towards calling him at weird or wrong timings, which was getting tiresome.

From the ones that he had managed to write down, there were only several messily written numbers and notes scrawled out. A couple being from Elymas, four by Benicio, and one from the Landlady.

Shrugging, Abel ambles towards his room, seeing as he'll have to go through them later when he's not fatigued enough to not fall flat on his face. Turning the brass doorknob, the angel steps into the threshold and lightly shoves the plain wood door close.

Abel had to admit, he had been a bit creative with this one.

Moonlight blooms through the large lunette, casting shadows and silver luminosity in its wake. The light etches the window's grilles across the spacious bedroom, reaching the angel and near the door where it bathes itself upon his being. Beneath the window, lying upon the floor and wedged within an arch wall is a single bed that's been shoved against a wooden cornice. An alarm clock and ashtray full of used cigars and ash idly sit on the ornamental molding. A worn, white sheet drapes above the mattress, giving it a tent-esque character while strings of cosy, lambent lights help give off a little more glow and decoration to the area.

If the angel's lucky enough, Abel thinks as he strolls towards the bed, he may get to gaze at the dark, star-speckled sky again while lying down until his thoughts once more lead him away into dreamland.

Flopping onto the bed, his back hits it first with a single bounce added in before settling. He situates himself into a more comfortable, curled up position on his right side. Amidst him staring through the lunette window while waiting for sleep to come, Abel gets to observe the waning moon high above the buildings and the bright and dim stars that scatter throughout the night sky.

Pretty, little things, they are, despite them being humongous and deadly...

A quick thought passes through his mind, having the angel leaning his upper half with the usage of an arm as support to unlatch the side lock. Pushing the right casement window outward, the breeze invites itself in. As if to thank him for his action, it blows a cool current at his face. Settling back down with a little smile, both feet cover themselves up under the sheet just as his peripheral vision catches sight of the dreamcatcher.

A short turn of his head and upper body has him fully seeing it, his left arm angling across his abdomen.

Moonbeams shine on its creamy hoop surface, blue pearls glittering on spiderwebbing strings like the stars outside. Various feathers that dangle below make minute movements as the dreamcatcher gradually oscillates due to the light currents. He remembers Elymas giving it to him after he had told the demon bartender about the reoccurring nightmares; the same ones that have him being trapped in the studio where he was first created. Since after receiving it, the object has been helping him sleep better through the nights. It wasn't fully authentic, per se, but it has kept them out of his head for who-knows-how-long, to which he's still grateful for.

Without knowing how many minutes have passed since he's been staring at it, the hanging item starts to blur in his vision. Letting his eyelids droop to a close, sleep arrives to envelop him in its comforting embrace.

oOo

By the time dreamland sends him back to reality, the starry night went away to be replaced by the all-too-soon sunrise.

Soft sunlight shoots through the lunette instead of ethereal moonlight, directing itself and the warmth it provides into the room and onto the drowsy angel's face. Abel moans from the sudden brightness upon awakening, eyelids scrunching themselves up as his head starts pounding. Ah, there's the hangover… A wing is used to block all of the light out, letting himself become overshadowed from the new morning's round until they become well-adjusted enough. In the meantime, the sparkling fireworks are being blinked out of his sight.

A minute or two passes before the wing is removed, the light enveloping him again. Turning his head to the right, the rebel glances at the alarm clock, seeing that its hands read 11 a.m.

"Already...?" The angel groggily inquiries, squinting at the object.

With a slightly exaggerated sigh and a wishful thought to sleep in more flitting through his mind, Abel slowly sits up, both arms giving him leverage against the mattress. He slips his legs out from under the rumpled sheet. Sitting at the edge, he stretches each arm above his head one at a time while yawning in the process. A kink or two somewhere in his neck makes its presence known but his muddled mind doesn't mind it at the moment.

Sleep slowly seeping away into near wakefulness, the toon gets up and starts ambling across the bedroom, heading out of the door towards the kitchen where he can make a fresh pot of coffee.

Abel wasn't much of a morning person until he had a cup or two in his system. Between his studio departure, the homeless adventures, and nightmares, he may have been converted into an insomniac during the time. Not really sure how bad it is, per se, but he believes that it isn't deeply affecting him since he makes sure to sleep as much as possible, even on the busiest of days. Coffee's been a good helper so far with getting him nearly awake - or so he thinks, so without it, he might not be much of an approachable guy than when he's half-asleep.

At least, he's not as bad as Fonzy or Benicio are...

While the coffee maker is doing its thing, he leans back against the counter, his eyes lazily wander across the other small space's innards. Listing to the left, they take in the dark green bullnose trim that separates the white top from the fern green bottom. The only items over there are a metal sink with the blank wall beside it and a gas cooker. Lastly, in front of him is a turquoise fridge where it faces the double-doored, kelley green bottom cabinets and coffee maker.

Once the machine's done, a cup is made and is taken away with the angel into the living room. When setting the hot drink on the coffee table, Abel thinks of tuning on some music while he gets ready for the day. Heading to the table, then turning on the radio, pinched fingers rotate the dial through news stations until a song comes through the speaker. One manages to bestow itself as he next messes with the notebook and it was the one melody that he didn't expect to hear again.

'We'll Meet Again' by Vera Lynn pervades his apartment in an optimistically-soothing, mellifluous ambiance. It gets him to stare at the radio with widen eyes, nostalgia immediately rearing its ugly head out from under many cajoling memories, but he manages to banish the feeling back to wherever it had come from before it completely explodes on him. Lingering in his consciousness, the familiarity from a time when he still lived with Jean, floats unnoticed. However, the inquisitive thought on how his friends and folks, Jean and Joshua, are doing at the moment crosses the rebel's mind without warning. He gives out wagering hope towards them doing alright in their lives while he's living through his.

A despondent smile graces Abel's face as he finishes up on checking through the list. Shooting one last look at the radio, he then heads into the bathroom to get undressed and shower.

Afterward, the showerhead turns off and both knobs shrilly squeak. An arm pops out from behind the curtain, swiftly grabbing the top towel off the sink, then disappears back behind it. The curtain is then pulled back, revealing a half-naked Abel with a towel around his mid-section mindfully stepping out of the bathtub. Really should get a bath mat before he starts slipping… He towels off his dripping being, blow-drys both hair and wings until they're back to their usual fluffiness, and heads back out to change.

Exiting out, the cartoon angel strolls into his bedroom, then takes out a fresh set of clothes from his closet. Most of the time, he wears a sleeveless blouse with a similar-colored collar and a white cross depicted on it. The blouse came with the same light blue hue as his hair. He then slips on a pair of white pants, following it up with black, leather spectator shoes and completes the ensemble by attaching white spats around his ankles.

Once Abel's done donning his usual outfit, he takes the used towel off the bed and comes out of the room again to throw it in the hamper. He'll need to do a bit of laundry later, Abel reminds himself before dropping onto the three-seater. He takes the lukewarm cup of coffee by the handle and takes a drink from it, enjoying the much-needed caffeine as the song ends its melody. A male's voice then takes its place and begins to speak about some news coverage about a few recent events taking place during the week. Meh, those events aren't much of a concern to him, so he isn't up in hearing any more of them.

Deciding to do today's chores before going to Headquarters, Abel sets his cup down again and begins the first task: Cleansing the apartment. He also changes the station to another while he's at it.

oOo

To spare you the boring proceedings: Through the morning until the afternoon, the angel spent the time doing said chores. A half an hour of another break goes by then before he does the errands, taking the ripped piece of paper along the way so he can remember the names and notes.

The first errand on the list was helping out the Landlady with her antique shopping. Let's just say, it wasn't fun for him than it was for her. He had to stand to the side while carrying a couple of creepy, frilly-dressed porcelain dolls, waiting on her to get finished as she agonizingly decides on what dish looked better in her cabinet space. The rebel still wonders if he's getting to be her favorite tormented tenant lately...

The second had Abel flying back to his apartment with a small crate of illegal ink in tow. The reason why he had it was because the bartender wouldn't be available to give it to Benicio later on in the day, nearly running late in meeting someone only he knew across town. Whoever Elymas was appearing, Abel didn't question nor asked about it. He just shrugged and told the demon that he'll get the crate to Headquarters since he's going there later anyway.

By the time Abel finishes up another errand - within that time, he had called Gizmo to apologize via payphone, the day's nearing the end of the evening hours. Having to take a rest at a storefront bench, an exhausted Abel watches the setting sun be surrounded in warm colors from the sidewalk, seeing as three-fourths of it is swallowed up by the buildings and horizon line. The remaining light bounces off most business building windows, having him put a hand up like a sports visor to block most of it out.

He honestly wishes for his bed right about now. Had he known about how many toons asked or called him for assistance - mostly just friends and associates, he would've spaced them out throughout the week and the next.

However, the life of a mafia member sometimes rears itself in the spotlight - pun intentional.

Taking the note out of his pants pocket and checking it over, Abel's glad that the last errand of the day involves grocery shopping. He knows a few bodegas near this area of Toon Town - one being where Verna Street is, as he used to go there during his homeless days - but he'll have to fly to the closest grocer for the rest of the items. If his calculations are right, it'll take the angel around fifteen minutes to get to and be done with the detour. Then, it'll take ten more to fly towards the grocery store; if he's swift enough, that is. Since he doesn't have anything left on the list, he'll hopefully be done and be back before heading out again to meet up with Benicio for tonight's heist.

Sighing out of a mix of resignation and relief, he gets up and lets his wings splay themselves out once, the destination of a grocery store named 'The Wiggling Pig' coming into mind.

A little bit later, he's walking out of the marketplace and going through the parking lot - a few grocery bags being gripped in his hands while the rest is held in a wing. Just when he was nearing the sidewalk, the rebel picks up on a commotion behind him. Turning halfway around, on the left side of the building, an eyebrow is raised when he sees some shadows darting about. A young child's yelp gets him moving towards them, the bags bouncing by his sides.

When Abel's head pops out from behind the corner, he witnesses a pre-teen cartoon being bullied by a group of older teenagers. The pre-teen, cowering against the store wall, gets a punch in the face. It elicits a few chuckles out of the teens.

Normally, any other toon would ignore these types of situations and walk away to wherever their destination needs them; however, Abel isn't that type of cartoon. It reminds him of how the staff members from his old animation studio had treated him. So, to cut it frankly, after he drops off his load at the corner, Abel had no problem whatsoever in frightening the harassing group by forming his wings into giant fists while yelling at them in a sergeant-esque voice. The action, surprisingly, frightens them off, leaving the shaken younger toon behind from where he's crouched.

The bullied toon doesn't know what had caused them to run until his bull-horned head swivels to look behind him. The rebel angel has his hand out to him and he takes it, getting up while nervously thanking him with a cheesy grin.

Abel gently places a right hand on the other's shoulder, having to not lean even a bit forward due to their height differentiations. "Kid, let me tell ye a good piece of advice from when I was around yer age: Start standin' up for yer-goddamn-self 'n don't wait on anybody for their half-ass help."

The kid's eyes widen as he spoke.

Abel ignores this as he gestures a splaying left hand towards the exit. "There aren't always gonna be people or cartoons around to take ye out of yer troublesome situation." Arms dropping, both hands then settle themselves on his hips, the tenseness from a bit ago ebbing away from both his being and voice. "Unfortunately, though, we're livin' in a time where there's this," Double sets of fingers perform air-quotes. "'Everyone for themselves.' policy hangin' over our heads." He shakes his head out of disappointment towards this life's way of living. "Ye understand what I'm sayin'?"

The toon kid nods in understanding.

It gets Abel to make a crooked smile. "Alright. Now, get goin' before they come back 'n pummel ye again." He places a hand on the kid's back and, with a gentle shove, encourages him towards the exit. "'N remember my advice, ye hear?" As another thank you is sent to him, the rebel watches on as the young toon runs off. Abel changes the crooked smile into a softer one once the other's completely gone. It stays stuck on his face while he retakes the grocery bags and continues his way back home.

By the time the rebel angel flies back to his apartment building and puts away the groceries, a glance at the wall clock shows that it's close to striking 8:42 p.m.

A sigh escapes his throat. "Crap… I better get goin' before Benicio blows a fuse on me..."

The rebel angel doesn't care about the "if it happens" portion honestly. What he does care about is for his eardrums to not ring once the demon greets him upon his arrival. He'll possibly be running late due to the incident, but if he heads out now and books it to Headquarters, he just might make it there before the sun goes completely out of sight.

With that notion in mind, the cartoon walks out of the kitchen. He then takes the awaited small crate that was left by the left side of the doorway before shoving himself through the double doors. Letting them swing wide open behind him, he steps towards the railing and hops onto it. Just leaning forward gets Abel to fall and swiftly spread his wings out, his grip on the crate secured in both arms.

The assistant wind carries him onward towards Headquarters: Home to the Demon Mafia Family.