After getting a decent amount of information from Oak Mayfield before locking him in a cell for the night, Spiro and Theo headed to a bar. Theo figured it was to celebrate one less gang leader on the loose, whereas Spiro just needed a shit ton of alcohol in his system in order to understand why the hell Cyrus Mossberg would bother to let him live.

So while Theo quickly shot Cyrus a text thanking him for his help at the casino, Spiro demanded from the bartender six of whatever drink would make him pass out the fastest.

"Before you start drinking yourself into oblivion," Theo started, raising his beer. "To a job well done, and Oak's six by eight cell."

"Cheers to that," Spiro agreed, clinking their glasses. He downed his drink and immediately reached for another.

"Don't get too smashed, we do have work tomorrow." Spiro stared at him.

"The person I hate most in the world just spared my life. I'm going to drink until Betty White looks twenty to me." Theo laughed.

"Fair enough." He paused for a moment, watching Spiro shake off the burning liquor as he drank more of it. "Why do you hate Cyrus so much anyway?" Spiro stared at him like he'd asked why humans hadn't walked on the sun yet.

"You're kidding, right?"

"No, I'm not. I mean, I get it, the dude's a drug lord. He's shady, but that's not really a reason to hate him as much as you do."

"He's a bad person and he hurts others for the hell of it." Theo bit his tongue, holding back his compromising replies. "Just because his father was in a gang is no reason for him to be in one. He chose to start a gang and supply drugs that destroy people's lives. And he ropes his members in with some stupid charm, til everyone thinks he's borderline angelic. It's manipulative and insane! He's probably a psychopath, honestly. He's not some angel. He is a gang leader who arranges illegal fights that the fighters die in, he's the reason for the spike in overdoses around here, he leads people to a life of crime and jail time, the list goes on! You know all of this. Cyrus Mossberg is the scum of the earth and he deserves to rot in jail. He gets away with too much, and he needs to learn that there are consequences to breaking the law. The sooner he's behind bars the better, get it?"

"I guess," Theo took a drink from his beer. Hearing explanations for why people didn't like Cyrus were one thing. Listening to Spiro completely trash his husband was more difficult. But he had started this discussion, so it was his own fault if he heard things he didn't like. He and Spiro saw things from very different perspectives, after all.

"I just don't get how he does it." Spiro shook his head. "I could never do half the stuff he pulls off, could you?" Theo thought about it. He had thought about the idea a lot before, of course. The thought of what he would do if he was in Cyrus's shoes. But no matter what perks his husband may have found in gangster life, Theo didn't think he'd be up to it.

"No." Theo agreed. "I couldn't. I mean, I get why Cyrus does it. His father was in a gang, so this is likely the only life he's ever known. But I could never. The idea of killing for the sake of status, and willingly supplying stuff that ruins people's lives... I don't have the guts for that. It's gotta take a lot of effort, though. I'll give that to him."

"It's still messed up and wrong," Spiro grumbled. "But hey, at least we got Oak arrested. The Chief will be happy, especially if we get some more of the Rebels when we stakeout one of their meetings."

"Maybe that'll be enough for those FBI guys that are coming next week too." Spiro groaned.

"I forgot about those guys. And it probably won't be. If they're coming for Mossberg, they won't give a crap about Oak and his gang." Theo scoffed.

"Nobody gives a crap about Oak's gang." Outside of illegal fights and gambling, they were nobodies. The FBI, on the other hand, worried him a bit. With just him and Spiro, it was easy for the Hunters to stay hidden. There were a few leads Theo had found accidentally over the years that could've brought the gang down, but those had gone right over Spiro's head. If it was easy for him to find little things to take the Hunters down, how easy would it be for the FBI? Cyrus had told him not to worry; that he could handle the agents. Kramer had dealt with the FBI before, and he knew how to keep them out of trouble. The thought had done little to ease Theo's worries, but he trusted Cyrus's judgement, so if he said it would be fine, then it would be fine.

The fact that Kramer had been involved with the FBI before, however, raised at least a dozen more questions in his mind. It was incredible how little they actually knew about the casino owner, and how impossible it was to find out more. It was hard to prove Kramer even existed, and that was exactly the way the man wanted it.

Spiro continued to drink steadily for the next few hours, eventually starting to sing along to the Lynyrd Skynyrd songs playing throughout the bar as Theo stuck with his one beer and laughed. He didn't like to drink much. Drunk lips sunk ships, and he had too many secrets to let alcohol make him slip up. Spiro, on the other hand, lived on a strange diet of sugared coffee, alcohol, and saltine crackers. It was a rule of the bachelor life code, he said. Your daily diet should make civilized people horrified, and the contents of your fridge should make chefs cry tears of sorrow. Spiro certainly lived up to that code.

He started laughing at one point, drunkenly happy at first, then an anxious, confused shouting.

"I don't get it," He slumped in his chair and Theo watched his drink happy stupor fade away. "Why the fuck would Mossberg save me? What does that mean? Does he want something from me?" His eyes widened. "Oh my god, what if it's blackmail? He saves my life and now I have to do him a favor. He's Don Corleone, Theo." He reached across the table and grabbed Theo by the shirt, half dragging him across the table. "HE'S GONNA GODFATHER ME! I'M ALLERGIC TO ORANGE SLICES, THEO, WHAT DO I DO?" It was very very difficult to not burst out laughing, but Spiro looked terrified, so Theo restrained the laughter as best he could. He put Spiro back in his chair and attempted to calm him down.

"He's not going to blackmail you," He promised. "Cyrus doesn't work like that, and if he did, there are easier ways to get to the cops than through your forgetful ass."

"True, true." Spiro sniffed at his glass, sad to find that it was empty.

"And Cyrus doesn't work for the Italian Mafia, so he's not Don Corleone, sorry."

"That's such a good movie-"

"I know."

"It's been too long since I've watched it."

"I'm sure. But Cyrus isn't gonna terrorize you with oranges either, okay?"

"Okay....But why would he save me?" Spiro slapped his hand against the take with each word, needing to emphasize the thought that was driving him nuts. Theo paused. He knew the real reason Spiro had been saved. It was because he was Theo's friend, and Cyrus cared enough about him that he wouldn't let his friends get hurt. But he couldn't exactly tell Spiro that he was alive because Theo was screwing a gang leader. Drunk or not, that was likely something he'd remember. So Theo improvised.

"He probably just likes the fight," He said. Spiro was practically face planted on the table now, but he was listening, so Theo kept talking, even though he knew his partner would likely forget their entire conversation within the hour. "He likes the adrenaline rush of knowing someone is chasing him, and that we don't have shit. He thinks it's funny, and he doesn't want it to end. If you died, then it would've ended his game, and turned it into a war. He doesn't want that. We're playing cat and mouse with Cyrus, and he thinks he's the cat so he wants to keep playing with us. Simple as that."

"Yer really smart," Spiro mumbled. "That makes sense, I guess."

"It does." Theo assured him. "C'mon. I'll drive you home." Spiro shot to his feet too fast and stumbled over them, clutching at the table for balance.

"I can drive myself!" He yelled proudly. Theo gave him a deadpan look.

"No you can't."

"Yeah okay." Spiro mumbled into the table, swaying.

"Go home and watch The Godfather. You'll feel better tomorrow."

"Tomorrow... Tomorrow we will end Mossberg Coleone and his evil oranges." Theo smirked and propped up his partner.

"...Sure we will, buddy. Sure we will."