“Busy.”
“Yeah, I know. I’ve heard. Just you wait. I’m gonna get outta this bed and get mine.”
“You still need several more weeks to fully recover, Miss Cox,” Doc Brown said, walking out of the kitchen with a glass of water and a handful of pills. “Doctor’s orders.”
“Which means they’re Cold’s orders,” she grumbled as she begrudgingly took the pills. She chugged them back with the water and grimaced.
“Thank you.” Doc Brown took the empty glass back to the kitchen.
“So, you guys are gonna burn down the Mordecai district?” Crybaby asked.
“Only a little!” Valdemar called out from the other room.
“What he said.” Mickey smirked. “Gonna make ourselves a lovely little shooting gallery if it all goes well.”
“Too bad Salvatore won’t be there,” Crybaby griped. “Any sign of that prick yet?”
“No.” Mickey scowled sourly. “He’s staying close to Cristian. We haven’t seen him. Trust me. I’ve been looking.”
“I know.” Crybaby’s face softened. “I’m real sorry. You know. About your grandfather.”
“Thanks.” Mickey kept his expression blank. He didn’t want to talk about it, so he asked, “You hear anything from your lady?”
Crybaby laughed. “Oh, yeah. Scout’s a fuckin’ pistol. She’s been calling me everything but a child of fuckin’ God. Wants to come back to the city. She ain’t real happy with me right now.”
“Buy her some jewelry?”
“She’s more of a whiskey and grinding her oats to make scones kinda gal.”
“Really?”
“Yup.” Crybaby laid back and rested her head on the pillow. “God, I can’t wait for this shit to be over.”
“Not getting soft on me now, are you?”
“No, I wanna get fuckin’ laid.”
Mickey barked out a short laugh.
“What are you laughin’ about?” Crybaby grinned. “Don’t act like you’re not gonna make up with Roger and knock some boots again.”
Mickey smiled, and he looked away. This was another subject he didn’t want to discuss, but at least this one made him happy.
Huh. Yeah. Roger made him happy.
Weird.
“Oh.” Crybaby’s grin grew. “That is the face of a man who already done had his today, eh? Good for you, Mickey. Glad to see you pulled your head out of your ass.”
“No comment.” Mickey smiled slyly.
“None needed. I see you clear as day.”
While Mickey would neither confirm nor deny Crybaby’s suspicions, they continued to chat until her medicine made her too drowsy to keep up with the conversation. He left her to rest and went upstairs to check out the bedrooms. There were four, and Valdemar and Thirdsies had each already claimed one judging by the trash bags full of clothes.
He also noticed new garment bags hanging by their closets and at the foot of their beds, gifts from Cold no doubt.
Mickey picked the larger of the two rooms that remained, and he sat down on the bed. It was musty but clean, and he wondered if Roger would sleep in here with him.
