One night lapses into another, and hopefully this one would be less a testament to their power of will. In the same blacked out hotel room, with some generic action movie playing dubbed over in Spanish. The spot where Garrett had bled was heavily cleaned, the carpet chemical burnt.
Arturo had on a deep purple shirt, sleeves rolled up past the elbow, black slacks and his jacket thrown lazily across the bed.
The Bishop himself was seated at the table in the kitchenette area. The previous night there was a gun sitting on this table which very well may have put an abrupt end to his Danse. Funny, he never imagined that pistol in Garrett’s hand. Unlife had a funny way of working out like that.
Garcia had found a pack of playing cards, and had a game of solitaire going. Passing the night. Waiting to see if Prosper was going to accept the offer of trying this all over again. No blood needed this time, maybe though could manage a civil conversation.