2 Works in Clubs Deuce/Spades Slick
There’s nothing like an afternoon alone in the hideout. Boxcars is out with some dame, and Droog’s handling the shopping, like he usually does. Slick’s got the place all to himself (very nearly anyway, Deuce barely counts as another person), and he’s planning on a little one on one time with his favorite magazine. Now, maybe if Deuce will bug off, he can have that alone time he's looking for.
“Your plans never work on their own. I always have to fix things you mess up, Slick!” He could feel his forehead heating up. There was no way this would end well for anyone. That didn't bother him as much as maybe it should have. He had some steam to work off too.
“Guys, Deuce isn't back here.” Boxcars was quiet, still likely suffering from the gunshots, but there was a subdued sort of panic in his voice. A strain that Droog didn't like.
If the way Slick went slack meant anything, their leader didn't like the tone or the news either.
Within a few seconds they started up again, took a sharp U-turn on the street, and headed back to The Felt's hideout.
Slick, for once, was silent. It wouldn't last, but it was a welcome relief from the incessant words he'd been spewing.