He leans into Izz, lightly nudging him towards Reni’s table. “Sit with your friends, it will do you good to have a social circle. You thrive off social interactions.”
No arguments come, the boy does as he is told. And Sinn'ous continues on to his own table, to sit alone and watchthe room. Much can be learnt about others’ behaviour when they think no one is paying attention to them. Meals are a perfect time to observe behaviour and calculate social interactions.
43
SINN'OUS
Cool air, mildly warm sun trying it’s damnedest to peek past the cloud cover. It prickles over Sinn'ous’s skin, tickling the dusting of hair along his exposed forearms. Boxy phone to his ear, he uses the phone’s bulky stand to drape an arm over.
Both booths on either side of him are suspiciously empty, and the line of waiting inmates has migrated further down the fence line. Only one phone is occupied, and its user is liable to suffer whiplash with how often he’s snapping his neck in Sinn'ous’s direction.
The dual tone in his ear has only just gotten into the singing when the last phone is hung up, and the user hightails it away.
No one replaces him.
The ringing drags on, first try had rang out, and yesterday had been more of the same. He’s starting to wonder if the number the lawyer gave him is a dud, because the alternative is something he’s not ready to deal with.
Lunch time means the yard is empty as fuck, which creates a vacuum of silence to echo the buzz over the phone line.
“And this is?” Comes the drawled voice on the other end. It’s been many years since he heard that voice, but it sounds the same, a little older and mature, like life has presented him with hardships that he ate like dry cereal.
“Zayne, nice to hear from you, wasn’t sure if your life hadn’t caught up with you.” He’s not sure what he would have done had his brother been killed. Torture and kill whoever the fuck did it, of course, but then what? Grieve over a grave?
A rasped chuckle reaches his ears, caressing his inner beast like it recognizes a like-minded individual. And they are. Indebted to the same beast needing food they both willingly offer it, through the slaughter of lives.
“I wouldn’t expect you to be behind bars, brother. . .” the sentence trails, waiting on clarification, and juicy details.
“I’m not working a job—story for another time. I’m calling in that favour you owe me.”
“Do I?”
Sinn'ous rolls his eyes, something he has no control over around his brother. His mind drifts back to an icy river he swam through one handed, dragging Zayne’s unconscious, bleeding body in the other. The games the two of them had played catching up to them in the worst possible way. Except, it had been three of them, hadn’t it? But only two made it out of that last game, to swim through the waters into a new age.
“Don’t play coy, you know why you owe me.” Then he adds on as an afterthought. “I’ve seen your record, you’re making waves as you said you would.”
Unlike Sinn'ous, who doesn’t mark his kills in one specific way to link them all together. The slice of beast that is his brother, known to all as SKhorpion, openly plants his mark for all to see. A mark left in blood in the shape of a handprint. Zayne’s need for worldwide appraisal is admirable, but not something that appeals to Sinn'ous.
The only one who needs to know who Sinn'ous kills is Satan. And that’s it. He doesn’t need a fan club of hybristophiles fawning over him.
“I don’t do popping cages—” Zayne’s protest cuts off, his words are a rally car changing courses. “Unless it’s a colourful affair?”
Colourful, equalling bloody with multiple bodies. Something Sinn'ous can get behind. But that’s not why he’s calling, he doesn’t need to be broken out of prison. He has his out covered.
“No. If all goes to plan, I should be out in a few months.” He redirects the conversation back, “I need that favour.”
“Sure, but I’m not in the country.”
“You have two weeks for it to be done. How long until you can visit me here?” The task he wants can’t be explained over the phone where it’ll be recorded.
Zayne makes a tsking sound, tapping something in the background, probably a knife against a table. “I can be there in forty-eight hours. Give or take.”
“Thank you, brother.”
“Do you need a lawyer? Trust me, mine can talk you out of anything.”
Sinn'ous chuckles. “Yes, I know. I got in touch with Dante.”
“Ahh, very good. Let me know if he doesn’t do his job to your satisfaction.”
