“I never understood why people act all dramatic.”

Cairo watches incredulous as Marcel flexes his muscles. It was hilarious how the heavy jacket draped around his friend’s shoulders blocked any outlines of biceps that Marcel imagined he had.

“Take me for example,” Marcel continues as he punches a hole into his beer can and begins drinking the warm alcohol gushing out of the split. “All thug with no bullshit.”

“Thug my ass,” Cairo replies. “Doesn’t Mimi still have a restraining order in place against you.”

The events of the day had jaded his emotions, and Cairo was in no mood to entertain his friend’s atrocious attempt at self-flattery. He didn’t care even if his boy was just trying to just lift the mood. He just did not give a fuck right now.

Marcel’s face drops.

“That’s not funny,” Marcel hisses. “Fuck that bitch. You know damn well what really happened.”

Cairo raises his hands in apology but doesn’t lower his gaze. They continue to stare each other down as Lance watches with mild interest at the proceeding. It wasn’t as if either of them were really willing to jeopardize more than their friendship.

Marcel lowers his gaze and mutters something incomprehensible before helping himself to another drink.

“What about you Lance?” Cairo asks Lance. “You’re living the dream. House in the suburbs, nice car, beautiful wife… What’s your take on the local E! news?”

Lance smirks. Cairo observes as his longtime friend relaxes on the warm cement curb. The day’s worry creased all over his face relaxes as Lance dulls his worries with another can of malt liquor.

“Honestly,” Lance tiredly comments, “I’m too old for the bullshit you kids drag me in.”

Cairo cheerfully flips Lance off.

“Careful old man,” Cairo chirps, “Your wrinkles are showing in more places than one.”

“You joke but who’s the only person with a lady here?”

Cairo smiles as he leans on his friend’s green coup. He opens his own can of beer and enjoys the buzz as the warm setting sunlight fill his body with euphoria. The atmosphere was almost beautiful. Almost.

Cairo reaches into his pocket and feels the item hidden in there. There was only so much nature could do for comfort.

“No,” Cairo hastily mutters to himself.

“You say something?”

Cairo notices Lance looking at him worriedly. Smiling, he reassures that everything is still fine.

“Speaking of drama,” Marcel continues, “did you here? “

Cairo shakes his head. “About what?”

“Layla’s back.”

Cairo’s ears prick up. Blood quickly rush to his face as he turns to hide his blush.

“What are you getting all embarrassed for?” Marcel teases, “It’s not like she ever liked you.”

Cairo feigns a strike, causing Marcel to flinch in reflex. As his friend regains his composure, Cairo lightly kicks him in the shin. He chortles as Marcel cusses in annoyance. It’s quiet moments like these that make his life bearable, before he has to return to the hustle and bustle of life and the violence it brings.

“It’s getting late,” Lance interrupts, “we should get going before curfew.”

Cairo nods in agreement. Ever since the metropolis was put under Marshall Law, regulations required all civilians to be off the streets before the sun set. Of course, it was hardly enforced, but he did not wish to gamble his and his friend’s freedom after they had just performed a stirring car chase. More so now since authorities have recently just finished constructing close circuit cameras on every corner of the city.

Cairo reaches deep into his pockets. Pulling out a wad of brown paper towels, he slowly unravels the clump revealing a small oil burner. The pristine condition the pipe glistened under the fluorescent street lights was enough to tell Cairo’s surprised friends that he hasn’t been using.

“Sometimes I worry about you,” Marcel comments as Cairo flings the meth pipe to the ground, smashing the glass into unrecognizable pieces. “What would you do without us?”

Cairo grins as he enters Lance’s car.

“For starters,” he replies, “I would be a hell of a lot richer.”