Snippet #2369400

"Thanks," Martin said, a tight smile pulling at his lips as Daniel helped him out of the car, keeping him from toppling over onto the damp pier. It was a nice gesture, at least, given Daniel's frantically trembling hands and the way the night had gone. Once he was sure he could stand on his own two legs, he gave the younger translator's shoulder a tight squeeze. It was a woefully inadequate attempt at comfort, but it was the only thing he could really offer him. Anything else would just feel disingenuous.

It wasn't a nice night, Martin mentally noted as they stood on the pier, listening to quiet chatter among Cole and Suri. Then again, nice nights weren't exactly Chicago's forte lately- always battered by wind or with clouds swollen with rain. He took a deep breath, almost immediately regretting it as his head spun once more. All he wanted, all he really wanted was to go home and collapse on his bed, but even that seemed out of his reach. What was he supposed to do now? Hope that his head felt better in the morning? He couldn't exactly just waltz into the hospital, one more con of his occupation. He was losing his cool now, something that didn't happen often if ever at all. There was none of his customary tranquility or easy, soothing mannerisms. Martin was frayed, coming apart at the seams almost. And yet he stayed where he was, bleeding and beaten on a pier in Chicago because Cole has told him to. His eyes fluttered for a moment. When they opened again, there was Maria, sprawled across Suri and Cole's laps like a house cat. He could see how- how beaten she was, much worse off than himself he assumed and suddenly Suri's question about her health seemed irrelevant. She was alive, at least. That would have to be enough.

Cole's gentle affection for his sister was a little hard to watch. It should have been endearing or sweet, but it pulled on his heart in an entirely different way. Family was so important in this line of work, especially with siblings- surprisingly so. It was just another way he differed from them, Martin supposed.

Oh, Cole was talking again. He turned his attention from his thoughts and to the Occheto boy, listening to him apologize and cajole. The idea that Martin would even have thought to turn them in was almost laughable. Daniel had a chance still, to get out of this line of business if he played his cards right. As for Martin, well... He'd left that decision behind on his first day on the job the moment he'd picked up that gun with shaking hands, inexpertly pulling the trigger. It wasn't like those girls at Buca the other night- he hadn't been ordered to do anything. He'd just done it. He was in far too deep now to just stop. One did not simply leave the Occheto family once your hands were stained a brilliant red, once you'd taken a life. Oh, he'd imagined coping a plea deal in the early years, but he couldn't survive outside of the family anymore. He was tied to them now and the more he seemed to struggle, the tighter the web became.

"Your glasses, man. Ah, shit." As Cole fished for his wallet, Martin finally spoke up.

"Why's everyone so concerned about my glasses?" His attempt at humor fell flat due to the pure exhaustion in his voice, a slur in his words. Admittedly, he had been slightly upset with his broken glasses- after a childhood of dorky glasses that made him look like a less cool Harry Potter, that particular pair of glasses had been the first things that he'd bought once he'd moved out on his own. They lasted quite some time, with only his spares ever breaking, but now...

"Put your wallet away, Cole. I don't need your money. It's- I'm fine. They can be replaced."

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"It seems that you've been summoned," Jude smirked, Jackson's voice practically echoing over the otherwise quiet pier. Well, it wasn't that quiet between small conversations and the background noise all around them- the lapping of waves, the traffic on Chicago's streets, all mixed together into the city's soundtrack. Still, throughout his years living and working in the city, it had faded from the horrible racket it had been when he'd first arrived to practical silence. He watched as Maria struggled out of the truck, using pure determination to walk away from the vehicle. Her wounds were obviously troubling her, but any temptation to help was halted by her words.

"Need you not guide me, fair prince."

"As my lady wills it," He replied, sliding out the other door and watching dispassionately as the Italian femme tottered over to the assembling group and collapsed on top of her brother and Suri. As he followed behind, he finally took in the shape of those that had stayed behind at The Windy City and had finally come to join them. Suri was looking a little worse for wear- still beautiful in a deadly sort of way, but the wound near her stomach telling a different story entirely. Then there was the newer translator, Daniel, still trembling- probably in shock then. And finally...

Jude's fists clenched and a frown founds its way on his face, sharp eyes trained on Martin. He looked, to put it quite bluntly, like shit, blood painting his face, an open wound upsettingly clear in contrast to his now messy brown hair, and swaying on his feet like a strong breeze could knock him over and into the water. Whoever had done this to him- Well, whoever had done this to him was likely already dead, which was lucky for them and disappointing for him. Jude wouldn't have the pleasure of beating the man to death like Romeo had had the pleasure of doing only a few moments earlier with Maria and the girl's captor.

The Irishman settled for joining the group, resisting any urge to simply grab Martin and begin looking over his wounds for himself. There would be time to fuss over him later, preferably in private without well-meaning but excessively nosy and increasingly irritating coworkers and assorted company. For now, business had to be finished. Cole had called this meeting for a reason and the sooner they got that problem sorted, the sooner everyone could go and try to sleep off tonight or retreat to tend to their own wounds.