Rook rolls his eyes at the mention of his body washing up somewhere. "You think you need to hold my hand so I don't kill myself?" This is asked with a monotone, quiet voice. He's not the type to slit his wrists, he's also not the type to give up. He'll fight to the bitter end, cling to life, if for nothing else, then out of spite.
It doesn't even occur to him that Jay might have wanted to offer him some comfort because he doesn't need that and he doesn't deserve it.
The blip blip sound that comes out of the traffic lights goes off several times before he answers the question about what he's doing here, though.
"It's work. The hell do you care what I do? They don't care what my work history is and salary comes in cash every fucking Friday." He has no intentions of leaving a record mark of himself anywhere, so being paid off the books is what he wants.
no subject
It doesn't even occur to him that Jay might have wanted to offer him some comfort because he doesn't need that and he doesn't deserve it.
The blip blip sound that comes out of the traffic lights goes off several times before he answers the question about what he's doing here, though.
"It's work. The hell do you care what I do? They don't care what my work history is and salary comes in cash every fucking Friday." He has no intentions of leaving a record mark of himself anywhere, so being paid off the books is what he wants.