Eric immediately asked, "What the hell is he doing with that thing?"
The large man Ragah tilted his head. "It's not mine, bruh."
Everyone looked past him.
"It's the skater's," Davidz mumbled.
A beat of silence followed as all eyes slowly turned to Farah.
The 5'4 skater stood there casually, board under one arm, braces still shining, now apparently the owner of the largest weapon in the room.
Farah, finally behind her Elite Guard, looked at Osprey, touching his white hair, seeing his scars.
Osprey was casually blowing bubbles.
Farah cringed, not knowing what to say. "Hey, Os? Are you mad at me, bruh? I'm sorry I wasn't there to help."
Osprey lazily looked up, still high and numb on drugs. "I'm the one who sent you on vacation, kid. There's more to life than just fighting."
As Ragah walked over to Osprey as well, his two lieutenants now at his side, Farah continued, "I know, but still."
Conflicted, Farah blurted out while scratching their head, "Sigh, just turn me around and fuck me at this point." Farah rolled their eyes casually. Their tattoos were mainly exposed, their outfit very casual. With a crop top, you could even see their tramp stamp close to their tailbone. They smelled like drugs, sex, and cigarettes.
Farah mumbled, "Well, I'm glad you're alive. I can't have you croaking until you see the new gun I've built."
Aspera looked from the other side of the table harshly. Farah looked back at Aspera with a stink face before continuing to look at Osprey, literally slapping his face casually.
"If you're going to die, at least die on your own terms, though. Don't die because you're in a weakened state, distracted and in situations you wouldn't usually be in."
As they whispered the last bit so Aspera couldn't hear, "All because of that harlot."
Osprey sighed, annoyed. "I'm not going to fuck you, dude. You can stop playing damage control. But I do kind of want to see that new gun you're talking about, hold up—"
As Osprey tries to stand, he struggles to even move his legs as a jolt of pain pierces through his body. Farah sweats, choking down a laugh as they hold Osprey down in the tub, before whispering, "You're not supposed to be moving. I'll show you later…"
"Okay," Osprey mumbled.
Before realizing, "Wait, did I just feel my legs again?"
Finally, the door opened. Allen raised his head from the desk. Demi looked forward. No—everyone looked forward.
Demi, however, was interested, hoping it was his master. However, it wasn't. It was just…
Mr. N.
He slicked his hair back as his free-formed locs, twists, and afro stood out per usual. Behind him was Solomon.
Finally, the door closed. Everyone's faces turned sour as they looked away.