her willingness to help threw him off, an eyebrow raising as he wiped his sweat palms on his jeans. something didn't sit right, even if she was genuine. "how much will that cost?" he had plenty stored away, but he didn't want to be first on the list if it drained his savings.

"only a hundred?" that was definitely fishy, and he didn't totally trust her price, but he had to take what he could get. he was dying and desperately needed a new heart. "how many tabs do you want to top it off? i've got plenty."

boss on a warpath?

aw, man. is it really that serious?

i'm too sober for this. alright, fine. i'll head over now.

i've got plenty of tabs. don't worry about it. see you in 10.

"nice doesn't come without a price." eyes widening a bit at her question, he laughed nervously, rubbing his palms against his jeans again as he tried to casually brush it off. he was always high. it should've been old news. "very much so."

it didn't take mars long to get there, despite his slow trekking along the concrete sidewalk. just as promised, he showed up on the tenth minute, arms crossed over his chest as he came to a halt in front of his friend. "what are you pissing in your pants for?"

"no! no, i definitely am." tapping over his heart again, he gestured as if to invite her to feel, but he knew better than to actually let her try. "i have an arrhythmia. it's only gonna get worse for me from here. i should get ahead of the problem and just get a new heart."

moving to sit beside the ginger, his lips turned upward into a bitter smile. there was nothing he could say that offered any comfort, and he knew better than to throw out a bullshit speech about how they could pull through if they tried. "craig's gang, huh? we're that fucked."

the sinking feeling in his stomach wasn't something he could shake away. something was off, but he /needed/ a heart, and this was a good deal. "i'll take it," he paused, mindlessly digging in his pockets for a cigarette to light, "but i wanna know the catch."

"an old friend." bringing the cigarette to his lips, he flicked the lighter a few times and took a puff. as much as he didn't believe her, he couldn't pass this up. "here," putting the lighter away, he pulled out his wallet, thumbing through the green bills, "$100."

ᅠ ᅠ 𝖄𝗢𝗨𝗥 𝗟𝗜𝗧𝗧𝗟𝗘 𝐇𝐄𑁤𝐑𝐓 𝗚𝗢𝗘𝗦 𝑷𝑰𝑻𝑻𝑬𝑹 — 𝑷𝑨𝑻𝑻𝑬𝑹 ﹔ 𝕴 𝗪𝗔𝗡𝗧 𝗬꩜𝗨𝗥 * 𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝗢𝗡 𝗔 𝙿𝙻𝙰𝚃𝚃𝙴𝚁 .ᐟ 𓆦 #𝗦𝗣𝗥𝗣 ⠀ ᅠ ᅠ

it's actually "their loss"

i'm pretty sure