Taking Care of Business [Open]

A few blocks down another man peeled off out of the shadows and fell in step beside the other man, just out of arm's reach, at least at first. Jamison Fawkes was not...the most stable man...in the organization. But Sam Caldwell had known the man since he'd been just a kid, and more or less knew how to handle his crazy. And he was undeniably useful as the man they could point in a direction and turn loose. Which is clearly what had happened, judging from looking at him. There'd been rivals sniffing around, as well as the cops and sometimes people needed to...disappear.

"Take it the situation's taken care of?" He asked quietly, with a sidelong glance. "Should clean yourself up first, you look like a fucking disaster and it's gonna make people ask questions."

He'd never gotten laid, but he always kind of imagined the after feeling of a job well done wasn't too much different from that glow people supposedly got after some really good sex, he was glowing, that was for sure. Swinging the bloodied crowbar and whistling a jaunty tune that didn't quite match up to the crime he'd just committed. He was also extra unpredictable after something like this, more prone to biting or scratching at the wrong people, which was nearly what he did when the man slipped from the shadows to walk beside him.

He jerked his head in his direction with a wide grin and a fit of gleeful little giggles, "Hmm duh. Thas' why they sent me." He snickered, rubbing a hand over his face and smearing the mess further, "should I? I suppose I should." He glanced around them, then back at Sam, "they send yew t'follow me? Or were yew jus' worried?" He smirked, he'd known Sam since he was to small to understand that when you hit someone enough times, they didn't get back up, "I smell like death, eh? Like pennies and gasoline." Which was a pleasant smell to him, but he imagined it wasn't the best to anyone else.

Sam knew all too well the other might very well swing on him in that moment, which is why he didn't get too close, he had reaction space and time if the other did.

The answer to his question was a little bit of a combination of both of those things, but instead he just shrugged a little. "Just happened to be in the area." He said vaguely.

He watched Jamison for a moment as they walked. The kid got off on this life, he really did. It wasn't something Sam really understood. He'd killed before, both in the War and during his time with this lot. It wasn't something he was squeamish about or really felt huge amounts of guilt over...but he didn't enjoy it, not the way the other did. All the more reason to keep an eye on him.

"Smell like death?" He smirked a little. "Look like death too while you're at it."

Jamison fixed him with a skeptical eye, clearly not believing that for a second, but he didn't press it further, instead lifting the bloodied end of his crowbar to inspect it, "yew shoulda' seen his head split." He snickered as he picked off a few remnants of the man's head that hadn't quite been shook off, "reminds me of smashin' a watermelon." He gave a soft cackle and swung the implement down hard, "watermelon's ain't quite as satisfying. Melons don't beg." He liked the begging, like they thought they might actually get through to him, like he didn't have a job to do that he loved to do.

He eyed Sam when he said he looked like death, snickering, "Mm I guess I do...It's startin' t'get dried and sticky." He sighed and rubbed at his face more, feeling frustrated now with the way it clung to him, "got a place I kin' clean up?" Sam had always looked out for him in a way that the others didn't, he gave him a wide berth some days when he knew he was feeling especially unstable or hostile, but he'd always given the wayward youth shelter that he wouldn't have otherwise. He supposed he was thankful for that.

Sam shook his head. There it was, the talk about begging and smashing heads. He worried about the kid sometimes, he really did. "Yeah, careful there. Got a little brains there." He said dryly as the meaty bits were flung free from the crowbar.

He let out a long sigh. "You can come by the apartment." His place wasn't that far away and it would get him off the street before cops started sniffing around.

His place was a couple blocks away, a fourth story walk-up that wasn't elaborate but was comfortable and had been a good laying low spot for both of them over the last few years.

"Just don't wake up Sarah..." he said as they approached, his daughter didn't talk much, a bit of an off girl to be honest but somehow her and Jamison had struck up a weird friendship that made no sense to him and he wasn't sure that he completely liked it...so far it had all been innocent enough at least, if he'd thought it was anything else he'd probably have shot Jamison himself and thrown his body in a river somewhere. Friends or not though, she didn't really need to see him like this.

Jamison snickered softly flicking the weapon to fling off the rest of the bits as he followed after the man, "Ha...Clingy. Then again I s'pose brains are sticky." He let out a wicked giggle at this. He was well aware that he was a bad person, he'd grown up in an environment that bred him into an adult who legitimately seemed to get a jolly smashing people's faces in. He also knew Sam worried, it was endearing, if not slightly annoying at times.

He nodded when Sam offered to let him come by his apartment, looking a bit relieved, "thanks, mate. I'll jus' clean up an' then be outta yer hair, aye?" He didn't have a home of his own, mostly sleeping wherever he could find to sleep, he knew Sam's trust in him was shaky at best, and he didn't like to overstay his welcome.

When Sam mentioned not waking Sarah, Jamison gave him a look that was surprisingly lucid and serious, "I wont, Sam." He tried his damnedest to hide this lifestyle from her, they were close friends, and he feared what she would think of him if she knew that he was doing this to people.

"Hmm" Sam just made a sound in his throat as he unlocked the door, it creaked a little as it opened, a single small light still on inside.

Once inside he gestured for Jamison to go get cleaned up as he hung up his coat and hat before he moved into the main room. He rummaged around in one of the drawers in his desk before he came up with an unmarked bottle half full of clear liquid, and a pair of glasses. He sloshed a healthy helping into each glass and took them into the kitchen to offer Jamison one.

"This batch ain't half bad" He offered with a bit of a shrug, Home cooked booze could he bit or miss, some pretty decent...some of it pretty toxic. People paid good for it regardless though and that was more Sam's speed...bottles of hooch, souped up Buicks and a cool head.

Jamison crept behind Sam as he opened the door, feeling legitimate relief to see Sarah still asleep, he didn't like her seeing him like this. Once inside he took a moment to slip off his bloodied jacket, thankful for the relatively clear white shirt that was beneath it. Good, it meant he only needed to wash off his face and hands, which he hustled to the bathroom to do. This was a routine for him by now, this was his cool down period, where he transitioned from a psychopath to a man who was at least slightly more tamed, but only slightly. There was always that undertone of crazy, a twitching to his head and a jitter to his left eye that gave him away.

When he was finished cleaning himself up, he slipped out of the bathroom and into the kitchen, looking pleased when Sam offered him a drink, "ah thanks, mate..." He was eager to down the drink, hissing and chuckling, "damn...This batch is enough t'knock yer socks off..." It really was like a good drink after some really good sex, it gave him the same feeling anyway, he'd been told it was pretty fucked up, but he was pretty fucked up. He chuckled and took a gulp, looking thoughtful, "got two more from that asshole's group t'get rid of." He got a sick kind of grin, "I know their routines now though. I'll get them t'morrow night." It was like a game to him in the end, hunting the most dangerous prey.

"It'd strip fucking paint, that's for sure. But doesn't taste as much like turpentine as it usually does." He downed half the portion in a quick swallow so as not to taste it as much...it was better, but not great..., although the burn was still there, all the way down.

He took the glass with him, settling into a well worn wingback armchair in the main room. He nodded an acknowledgement to the other's plans. It was the other's job, he always finished his jobs, And these guys needed to be dealt with.

"Got a run out of town tomorrow night, you'll have to find someplace else to clean yourself up after...don't go wandering around the streets all coated in someone's blood." He gestured to the other with his glass.

Jamison gave a soft cackle as he swallowed more down, giving a shuddering twitch, "the more it burns goin' down th'better fer me." He chuckled, swirling his drink in his glass before downing the rest as he followed Sam to plop down in a chair across from the one he'd sat down in, "M'gonna follow one'a them close t'the river." He snickered, "he takes a short cut through the path t'get home. I'll get him there." He pondered as he considered his other target, "last one I'll hit shortly after. Sent him an anonymous tip t'meet me in th'woods. He'll come." He shrugged when he mentioned cleaning off, "I'll clean meself off in th'river." It wasn't the best idea given the slight wintery chill that has begun to bite at the air, but he didn't have any other dependable place to go, "I'll be fine. M'always fine." Though there was a thin line between fine and fucked, "how's Sarah been by the way?" He tilted his head with a sincere smile.

"Just make sure the second one don't get smart, bring some friends along." He downed the last of his drink and left the glass on the table. "I know I wouldn't go follow up some....anonymous tip by myself...neither would you, and probably not this guy either." Not that he really needed to be told those things, but he still said it anyway.

He glanced towards her closed bedroom door. "She's fine." He said at first, then sighed. "She's...pretty much the same." She was always the same, she didn't get worse...but she didn't really get better either. She could take care of herself well enough for most things, but she was still an odd, quiet girl and he worried about her, especially when he wasn't around.

"I think she misses seeing you around." He finally added, perhaps a little reluctantly.

He shrugged and got an ill smile as he looked thoughtful. He almost hoped more people showed up, more people meant more bodies, he chuckled, "if more of 'em show up...I'll kill them too." Should he bring a gun? His style was more blunt force trauma and explosives, "I'll bring a gun. I'll kill them all." He snickered in a giddy sort of way that implied that he really did hope it went that way, a violent glint in his eyes that was eager for the promise of a party.

The look left his eyes almost immediately when Sam started talking about Sarah, flickering from that violent eagerness to something like normal, lucid at the ver least, "good. Rather er stay th'same than get worse..." He glanced up hearing that and a real smile flicked across his face, "yeh? I mean...I'd uh...Be less of a stranger but..." He reached a hand to run through his hair, "I know yew don't really like me bein' around 'er...Or 'ere..." He shrugged and looked thoughtful, "I could keep an eye on 'er for yew while yew went on yer runs...If yew wanted." He gave him a serious expression. "yew know I wont hurt 'er. Yew know this." Or he hoped he knew it, he'd known Sam since before he became a cocktail of ten different kinds of mental, and Sarah brought out what might have been Jamison before war decided to ruin him, he didn't know if Sam saw this though.

Sam just shook his head, that had been less his worry, instead he'd been thinking more that the other would get overwhelmed and that's how he'd finally get himself killed. But the kid thought himself invincible and didn't seem to realize he himself was on a short path to a violent death.

The way his brain seemed to just switch tracks between the two topics was disturbing as well, going from eager blood lust to almost normal in a literal moment. He remembered the way he had been - young, eager, a little twitchy maybe but eager to do good and serve his country... Over the coming months though he would watch in what felt like slow motion as Jamison seemed to grow to enjoy what they did in those trenches. He didn't know how it had all gone this wrong... But he still saw moments of who he had been from time to time, buried under everything else... And Sarah did seem to bring them out... That didn't mean he trusted it to always be that way though.

"Look, kid. I don't mind you being around. If I did I would just fucking stop letting you in and if you ended up being too much of a problem... they'd just never find the body." He said bluntly, not a threat, not with any sort of enjoyment at the thought, just a simple, stated fact. A reminder that Jamison was not the only one in the room capable of such things.

"But I let you around and I let you talk to her cause I think on some weird level you're good for each other. But that doesn't mean I'm not going to still look out for what's best for her... She don't know better and can't decide those things herself."

He paused for a moment. "She gets looked in on by Mrs. Moore from next door. If you do come around...*behave*. She doesn't know the kind of work we do and I want it to stay that way." He very much hoped he hadn't just made the other an offer he'd end up regretting.