In Time RP (Polo!)

Griffin continued to watch Toby work out with one eyebrow slightly raised. He might have been impressed by the man's display of strength, had he not been forced to put up with the same cocky behaviour from his colleagues every day. They always rubbed it in his face how much better they were at feats of physical strength, and though Griffin tried not to let it bother him, there were times when it did. It wasn't his fault that he didn't have as much strength as the average guy... He just... Didn't.
Losing interest in Toby's show, Griffin took out his Smartphone, and began researching something on the Internet, grumbling about the lack of connectivity in the underground room. He supposed he should have expected that.
He was still ignoring Toby when a cheeky voice called, "Is this 'Bat' enough for you, Myles?"
Smirking at his friend's attention-seeking actions, Griffin shook his head, and retorted with a grin, "Now you're just showing off. Get down from there before you hurt yourself."
He considered Toby's ridiculous upside-down grin for a moment, then laughed, glancing away to hide his amusement. It was strange to see the surly barman grinning so willingly, but Griffin was glad. Toby was a strange man, but he was starting to grow on him nevertheless.
Pushing himself up from the couch, Griffin approached his friend, and stood just a few meters away, arms folded over his chest.
"Okay." He said, dusting his hands together, "Move aside. Let an expert show you how this is done."
Grinning, Griffin stepped forward and unhooked his upside-down friend, shamelessly leaving him in an unceremonious heap on the floor. Griffin could not be left without entertainment for too long. Even if it was something difficult and tedious like working out, he wanted to be part of the action.
"Right then!" He said, stretching out his fingers, then cracking his neck from side to side, "Prepare to be stunned by my super-human strength."
He walked up to the pole, then stopped, stretching up towards it. It was just out of reach.
Undeterred, Griffin jumped, grabbing the pole in his fingers, and clung to it like a monkey, legs flailing for a moment before he caught his balance.
Gritting his teeth, he pulled himself upwards, then kicked up his legs, managing to get his ankles hooked around the pole.
Already exhausted, he hung there like a sloth, swinging feebly from side to side as he panted.
Turning his head slightly, Griffin cast a glance at the ground, and mused with mild concern, "This is uncomfortably high up."
He latched himself tighter onto the pole.
"Toby, get me down."

Toby just cocked his head, regarding Myles' words. Yes, he was showing off. He knew he was physically fit, and since someone was watching, why hide it? He watched the man's upside-down figure approach him and study him with arms crossed over his chest, and Toby just grinned. He was so high up he had to look downwards just to look Myles in the eye. Even upside down he had the upper hand. Literally.
"Move aside. Let an expert show you how this is done."
Nodding, Tobias began to reach up to unhook his legs, but Myles was already doing it for him. He opened his mouth to object, but it was already too late. His legs twisted awkwardly off the bar, forcing him in to a backward flip towards the ground. Unfortunately he was so high up he wasn't sure how to land, and ended up toppling onto his backside with a grunt of pain.
"There goes my coccyx." He grumbled, rubbing his lower back with a grimace.
Meanwhile, Myles was climbing up onto the pole, his thinner frame struggling slightly with his body weight. Toby just sat in the shadow of the contraption, looking up at the man with a blank expression. Myles was like a giddy child at the park, unsure of what to do with himself.
He flopped around on the pole for a while, swinging his arms down towards the ground, until he finally seemed to tire, and took a daring glance at the ground.
"This is uncomfortably high up." He mused, looking slightly concerned now.
Toby just pulled a knee up coolly and rested an elbow on it, staring up at the strange figure above him. "Yup," he answered simply.
"Toby, get me down."
He looked away, as if Myles wasn't there - although he was aware he was in 'falling range' of the contraption, and if they collided head-first with each other if wouldn't be good. He decided it best to move a bit out of the way. His backside stung in protest.
"Get yourself down, your highness." He mused, then picked up a piece of scrap metal from the heap and smacked it suddenly and loudly against the pair of metal posts. The noise was both loud enough to startle, and the power of the blow was enough to make the poles shake.
He paused when he thought about his words, then glanced innocently up at Myles as he added, "You see what I did there?"
Feeling proud of his poor joke, although far too dry to laugh about it, he pulled himself sorely to his feet and watched the man struggle with a tiny smirk playing his lips. He crossed his broad arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow.
"You got yourself up there, didn't you? I'm not your momma." He leant back against one of the poles, causing it to creak at the strain. "Or, you know, you could just say 'please'..." He added, blinking innocently up at the struggling figure.

"Get yourself down, your highness." Toby shot back, and Griffin pouted sulkily, puffing up his cheeks like an angry hamster. Before he could pull any more faces, however, a loud ringing sound vibrated through the poles, and he yelped, nearly releasing the pole overhead in his shock. As he began to fall, Griffin scrabbled for the pole, and latched himself around it even more tightly, clinging there like a cat stuck in a tree.
"You asshole!" He scolded, shooting Toby a glare. Unfortunately, the man was too busy congratulating himself on his joke to take any notice. Griffin huffed sulkily, "Yeah, you're a comedic genius. Now get me down."
"You got yourself up there, didn't you? I'm not your momma." Toby leaned against one of the side poles, and Griffin winced at the noise it made. "Or, you know, you could just say 'please'..."
Like a cheeky child, Griffin stuck out his tongue, though inwardly he felt a flicker of sadness run through him at the thought of his mother. He still missed her every day, and even such a vague reference to the woman he loved with all his heart was enough to upset him. Even so, it was not in his nature to dwell on his problems, much less to advertise them.
"Fine." he said determinedly, "Be like that. I'll get myself down."
With the grace of a gymnast, Griffin rearranged his clumsy limbs until he was hanging from the pole by his hands again. Then he started swinging himself.
Once, twice, and as he reached the highest point of the third swing, he let go, somersaulting in mid-air, and landed squarely on the ground, bending his knees to absorb the impact.
"Tada!" He chirped theatrically, spinning around to shoot Toby a cocky grin, "Told you I could do it."
Of course, he had known all along that he could get down. But if Toby knew that he knew, then where was the fun in that?
"What do you do down here all day, anyway?" He asked, soon losing interest in the exercising machines, and walking over to the old CD player in the corner. "I mean, working out is great and all, but it's boring as hell."
He picked up the dusty object, blew on it, then pressed the power button. Nothing happened.
Looking oddly pleased, Griffin plopped down cross-legged on the ground, the CD player in his lap, and started tinkering cheerfully with it.
"I couldn't just sit around doing nothing all day." He went on, shuddering at the mere thought, "I think I'd go mad."
He tweaked one more wire in the player, then tightened the screws, and pressed the power button again. The screen lit up, and Griffin smiled, standing up and placing it back on the table.

Toby just sat back and watched Myles struggle for a moment, a smile playing on his lips. He was ready for any moment when he had to jump in and catch the idiot, but he made sure not to look it. Myles had got himself up there, he could get himself down.
However, Tobias was aware of how 'able' Myles really was until he started swinging, the grip of the bar only in his hands. Then, after a few swings, he flung himself off the bar and leapt into the air. Then, in a heartbeat he had curled his body into a somersault and had landed skilfully on his feet a few meters away.
"Tada." He sang proudly. "Told you I could do it."
Tobias just shook his head in amusement. "I never said you couldn't." Although I would have never thought of you as the 'acrobatic' type...
Pushing himself off the bar, he followed Myles over to the table, where he tried the broken CD player. It didn't work. At this point, Toby would have just hit it, but Myles had to sit down and dissect it like some school biology project.
Rolling his eyes, Tobias just wandered tiredly over to the sofa and flopped onto it with a tired sigh.
"What do you do down here all day, anyway? I mean, working out is great and all, but it's boring as hell."
He regarded him. That was a good question.
What did he do that seemed to make the time fly by so quickly? He wasn't even sure. Most of the time he'd work out until he nearly passed out or got muscle cramp, other times he's just sit and leave himself to his thoughts. At least in an enclosed space he could release any pent-up energy without having to worry about what others might think of him. As he'd said, he could scream and shout all he wished, and no one would hear him.
"I couldn't just sit around doing nothing all day." Myles continued, tweaking at a wire in the CD player. "I think I'd go mad."
"I never said I don't." He replied seriously, laying his head back on the scratchy cushions. The lack of sleep from the previous night was catching up to him. "I just... I can let it out, in here. You know?" His eyes began to droop slightly, and his words began to slur with tiredness. "Mostly I work out, but it's also good for coming to terms with my 'inner demons'." He cracked an eye open and shot Myles an odd, unreadable look. "That's mostly done over there." He gestured vaguely to the punchbags, but it was difficult to tell whether he was joking or not.
He let his eyes closed, but he kept talking anyway.
"If I let it out in here, it means I can go back to the ghetto, back to work, and let the world believe that I'm all right. Even when I'm not, at least I'm not going to explode on them, right?"
Yawning tiredly he opened his eyes again, and glanced down at Myles with mild curiosity. "How about you? What do you do in your spare time?" He asked, then his eyes noticed the now-working CD player, and he smirked. "I guess that's a stupid question, really."

"I never said I don't." Toby answered, and Griffin glanced over at him, smiling fondly at the sight of the tough man slumped sleepily on the couch. "I just... I can let it out, in here. You know?"
"Hmm." Griffin nodded, "Makes sense."
"Mostly I work out, but it's also good for coming to terms with my 'inner demons'. That's mostly done over there." Toby pointed toward the punching bag, and Griffin raised an eyebrow. Judging by his earlier behaviour, Toby certainly did have some 'demons' to face, and Griffin did not find it difficult to imagine him dealing with his problems by reducing the innocent punching bag to pulp. He made a mental note not to get onto Toby's bad side...
"If I let it out in here, it means I can go back to the ghetto, back to work, and let the world believe that I'm all right. Even when I'm not, at least I'm not going to explode on them, right?"
In response to this, Griffin nodded somberly, trotting over to the couch, and sitting down beside Toby.
"That's smart." He mused out loud, "People don't like being exploded on. It's messy. Kinda sad that you have to deal with it all alone, though, isn't it?" He smiled slightly, a certain warmth to his gaze.
Not any more, my friend. Not now that I'm here.
Toby yawned, then glanced at Griffin and asked, "How about you? What do you do in your spare time?" His eyes flicked to the CD player, "I guess that's a stupid question, really."
"Oh, no." Griffin shook his head, "Not stupid at all. I don't fix stuff all the time. Sometimes I play World of Warcraft. I'm dating a troll on there. She says she's a twenty two year old supermodel, but I don't believe her..." He narrowed his eyes, then looked at Toby, and raised a finger as though about to teach him the most important knowledge in the universe.
"Never," He said seriously, "Trust a troll. Especially in WOW."
Nodding in approval with his thoughts, Griffin pushed his glasses up his nose, then cast Toby another glance. For the first time, Griffin seemed to notice how tired the man was looking. Thinking back now, he remembered Toby saying something about struggling to sleep the previous night.
"You look tired." Griffin said, standing up, "Better catch some sleep, before those sheep get away from you again. I'll get myself home."
He smiled brightly, then reached out to give his sleepy friend's hair an affectionate ruffle.
"It was nice meeting you, Toby. I have a feeling I'll be seeing you again soon."
Shooting the man a friendly wink, Griffin turned away, and raised a hand in a backward wave as he left, seeing himself out to the elevator.

***

It took Griffin a while to find the train station, but after a few tiring hours of walking, he did manage it, and from there the train saw him home safely. It was evening by the time he got back, and he barely had the energy to slurp down a mug of soup before falling into bed, totally tuckered out. When he went into work the next morning, he had nothing to say about the Byron Willoughby case, and though his superiors complained about his incompetence, they knew that they were powerless against him. Griffin was the best at what he did, even if he did have a difficult attitude to work with at times.
He did, however, unearth a remarkable pile of dirt regarding a shady character called 'Eric', and through a series of petty crimes, Griffin had soon pressed enough junk into the officials' hands to force them to take action.
Later that day, back in the ghetto, a group of timekeepers came to take Eric away.
Nobody messed with Griffin.
As for him, his 'work day' was spent slacking off as usual, and in that day's case, 'slacking off' meant researching his friend Tobias. After hacking into his Facebook account and updating his status to 'I like to sing Justin Bieber songs in the shower', Griffin soon tracked down his friend's phone number, and added it to his 'Superman' contact.
Pleased with his work, he smirked to himself, and composed a text to the number.
'You liar.
-M'

Without having any conscious memory of doing it. Toby soon had his eyelids drooping towards the ground once more, and he sat in the dazed land of self-consciousness, only half listening to what Myles was saying to him.
World Of Warcraft? His eyebrows twitched together in a half-hearted frown. He was mildly aware of what that was, but he'd never played it himself.
"I'm dating a troll on there. She says she's a twenty two year old supermodel, but I don't believe her..."
He murmured a chuckle at this. Poor Myles did have an odd life, didn't he?
He cracked an eye open to see a finger pointing seriously at his face, and his gaze followed it up to Myles, who was looking at him so seriously Toby thought he was going to teach him some important, philosophical lesson.
"Never," He warned. "Trust a troll. Especially in WOW."
Tobias grunted in agreement. "I'm with you there. Those critters can be horrible little pests. They steal your socks." He said seriously, too tired to laugh at himself.
He slid his eyes closed, just as Myles began to comment on how tired he was. In his dozy state all he could do was grunt, because the world was already sinking away from him. The night before had taken it's toll, and he was finally able to welcome the will to sleep once again. Besides, being underground he didn't get haunted by the night, and at least he felt safe here. It was better than his apartment, anyway.
Just as sleep was about to take over, a hand wrapped around the top of his head and scrubbed away at his hair. His eyes flung open, but before he had the chance to object, or attack Myles with a vengeance, he was met with an angelic gaze and, "It was nice meeting you, Toby. I have a feeling I'll be seeing you again soon."
He narrowed his eyes. How could he be angry with that?
Grumbling to himself, he flattened his hair back down with his fingers and mimed kicking Myles in the backside when he sat up from the sofa. One day, he'd enjoy doing that. When he had the energy.
"See you." He said simply, leaving the man to find his own way out, and closed his eyes again. Within minutes he was engulfed with sleep, and he welcomed it with open arms.

The next day Tobias was working on the bar from the early hours of the afternoon. It was quiet, except for the odd drunkard, but Tobias soon realised something - more specifically, someone - was missing. There was a bar stool usually taken right where he was looking, but today it was empty.
Eric.
Saying that idiot was a friend was a gross overstatement, but the thing was, he had the same dry humour Tobias had. They could banter like women for hours about nothing in particular, just to entertain each other.
So... Where was he?
As if reading his thoughts, a couple in the corner began talking, and he strained his ears to hear them. He only caught snippets, but it was enough.
Drunken old sod... Timekeepers... Taken away a few hours ago... Wife wouldn't stop screaming... They didn't say why...
His eyes widened. Timekeepers? Of course, there were thieves all over the ghetto, and rarely was there anyone who hadn't broken the law at least once to save their own skin, even in a minor way. But the Timekeepers never really cared for petty crimes, as long as it didn't affect their Time. Eric was no innocent man, Tobias knew that, but why had the Timekeepers chosen him out of all the horrible people in the ghetto?
He was left to ponder this for a good few hours more, when a vibration in his pocket made him jump out of his skin. Frowning, he pulled out the small, cheap Nokia brick out of his pocket and studied the screen. He never got messages. Or calls, for that matter. Mostly because no one had his number but Danny to check out shifts that needed doing. The phone had been necessary for work.
So who had messages him? It was an unknown number, according to his phone.
Swallowing nervously, he opened the text message.

You liar.
-M

He shook his head, releasing the tension from his shoulders. He was going to kill that man the next chance he got.
Clicking 'reply' he typed in clumsily, 'U caught me. PS - hav u put me dwn as Superman? BTW if ur ansr isnt no, i'll skin u. Just sayin. T.
Rolling his eyes, he slipped his phone back in his pocket and glanced up to see Danny staring at him with a raised eyebrow. He knew what his boss was thinking. Honestly, he was thinking the same thing. Since when did I have anyone to text?
"So..." Danny asked him, leaning on the till next to him. "Who is she?"
"What?" Tobias frowned at him.
"You were texting just then. You never do that. I can barely get you to answer me when I ring you."
"It's not a woman," Tobias told him firmly, unsmiling.
"Oh?" Tobias looked at him. Dan was grinning stupidly at him. "I wasn't aware you were out of the closet."
"What?" Tobias paused for a moment, thinking about what he'd said, then his eyes widened. "No! No... Oh God, no. It's not like that. I didn't give him my number. Or even told him I had a phone. He's-" He struggled for the word. "He's a bit... 'Different'." He pulled a face. 'Different' was one way to put it.
Dan nodded, although he looked vaguely confused. Still, he didn't push the subject. "All I'm saying is if anything happens, don't let me catch you in one of the rooms upstairs."
"Dan!"
His boss grinned at him, and slapped him playfully on the back. "'Cause you know, I'd have to charge you..."
Toby pushed him playfully in the shoulder, and Dan fled back to the back room. "I'm not gay!" He called on after the man, but he was grinning. He wasn't quite sure why, but that text message had lightened his spirits somewhat. It couldn't have been the fact that it was Myles - and he'd kill the man later for tracking down his phone number - but just the attention he'd got... He didn't realise he'd missed it so much.
Shaking his head in amusement he picked up a damp cloth and began absentmindedly scrubbing the desk again.

Griffin snorted in amusement at Toby's reply, clearly not taking his threat seriously, and with fingers flying skillfully over the keys, he quickly replied, 'Don't get your knickers in a twist, Superman. That nickname is sticking forever, now that I know how much it pisses you off.
Smirking proudly to himself, he slipped his phone back into his pocket, then stood up abruptly, causing his wheely chair to slide back so quickly that it ended up halfway across his office before it stopped. Ignoring it, Griffin grabbed an animal cracker from a tin on his desk, then popped it into his mouth as he left, juggling his laptop case and his keys as he struggled to lock up his office.
"Where are you going?" A cold voice asked behind him, causing Griffin to freeze in his tracks.
"Out." He replied innocently, taking his time to turn the key in the lock so he wouldn't have to turn around and look his boss in the eye. He wouldn't deny it - with his thick black stubble and the patch over one eye, the Chief Timekeeper scared Griffin spitless.
"Out where?"
"Dayton."
"Why?"
"Research."
The Chief's eyes narrowed, and his lips pulled into an angry sneer as he asked crisply, clearly frustrated with Griffin's one-word answered, "What research, Everett?"
Taking a deep breath, Griffin turned around, fixing his boss with a wide, angelic gaze, as though he had never put a toe over the line in his life.
"Research on the Willoughby case, sir."
"I thought you had no leads?"
"That's why I'm looking for some. I'm hardly going to find any sitting around here, am I now?"
He smiled brightly, and though the chief looked thoroughly unconvinced, he knew better than to argue with Griffin. The man's methods may have been unorthadox, but nobody could argue with his results. Those spoke for themselves. If there was ever a case of 'the end justifies the means', then Griffin Everett was it.
"Very well." He grunted coldly, "But don't let me catch you skiving work, Everett, or there'll be trouble."
Waving off his boss's threats, Griffin flashed a dazzling smile, then flounced off, delighted to be off the hook. The Chief was left scowling after him, but though Griffin felt the single eye burning into his back, he was not bothered in the slightest. He was bored of work, and when he was bored, Griffin was just a bundle of useless energy. It was time to get out and about again.

So, eager for some air, Griffin took to the streets, catching an afternoon train to Dayton. When he arrived, he headed straight for the bar, keen to see his new friend.
"Hello, stranger!" He chirped cheerily as he walked in, once again jumping at the sound of the bell above the door. He cast it an angry death-stare, then walked over to the bar, and hoisted himself up onto one of the high stools.
"I'll take an Appletini." He told Toby, smirking in a friendly fashion, "Extra appley..." His eyes narrowed deviously, "Superman."

Toby glanced up as the pub door swung open, and Myles paraded in with a stupid grin on his face. He could only watch, glaring at the man, as he approached the bar and climbed up onto one of the bar stools.
Everything about him reeked trouble, but it was the fun kind. The kind Tobias had more than missed. He leant against the table coolly, raising an eyebrow at the man. Something told me he was going to get some form of cheeky comment regarding the text messages.
"I'll take an Appletini. Extra appley..." Myles ordered, then narrowed his eyes daringly as he added, "Superman."
Tobias was expecting that. But he decided to pretend to act angry, because he knew he could scare the man shitless if he tried hard enough. Hissing in a breath he straightened up slowly, painfully slowly, and eyed up the skinny form before him.
Then, suddenly, he smacked both hands against the mahogany desk, lowered his face until it was dangerously close to Myles, and he growled, "Carry on like that and you'll be getting extra spit on the side."
Then, with another breath he straightened up again. And his face lit up into a cocky smirk.
Gotcha!
He turned away to serve the drink, adding extra apple juice, as promised, to the cocktail. He wasted no time spinning the bottles and mixing the juice with the alcohol, and after he#d placed the bottles back on the shelves he turned back round and handed the drink over to the man, winking cheekily at him.
Then, before Myles had a chance to thank him, he swiped him over the head lightly with the palm of his hand, causing Myles' long hair to fluff at the contact.
"You know what that was for." He murmured, unconcerned that people might have noticed him strike a customer.

When Toby slammed his palms down onto the counter with a sound like gunfire, Griffin jumped so high that his chair nearly toppled over, and his eyes widened as Toby leaned threateningly close, snarling, "Carry on like that and you'll be getting extra spit on the side."
"S-Sorry." He stammered, shrinking away from the barman's threatening stance. No matter how cheeky he got, Griffin could always be reduced to a timid mess in a matter of seconds. Because no matter how cocky he acted, his self confidence was less than zero.
Luckily, Toby's aggression turned out to be fake, and Griffin breathed a sigh of relief as he saw his friend straighten up with a cocky smirk.
He sat silently as he waited for his drink, finger plucking absentmindedly at the beloved leather bracelet on his wrist, as he always did when he was nervous. It still smelled faintly of his mother, and the sturdy strands were braided with memories of her. Griffin still remembered watching her make it... They'd not had much Time, but she had always made sure to give him something special every birthday. That bracelet was the most special gift of all, and it never failed to comfort him.
Breathing a shaky sigh, he looked up when Toby returned with his Appletini, and smiled timidly in thanks as he took it.
Just as he was about to thank the barman, he felt a rough hand cuff him over the back of the head. The blow was barely more than a touch, but it still managed to knock Griffin's head froward on his skinny neck, and he had to keep his glasses - new, fixed ones - from falling down his nose.
"You know what that was for." Toby scolded, and Griffin wrinkled his nose in response, pushing his glasses back up his nose.
"I know. I said I was sorry." He grumbled, raising his glass to his lips, and taking a sip of the bright green liquid inside. "I admit the Bieber thing was a bit much, but 'TOB123' is not a secure password, my friend."
He plucked the straw from his cocktail, and raised it to his lips, then blew the paper wrapper at Toby's face in a cheeky fashion.
"You should work on that." He added seriously, plopping his straw back into his drink and stirring it in a dignified fashion.

Toby was about to let it go, but he couldn't help but grin at Myles' expression. He was so easily terrified, wasn't he? Or maybe Toby was just a genuinely scary person. He quite liked the idea of that, actually.
"I admit the Bieber thing was a bit much, but 'TOB123' is not a secure password, my friend."
Slowly, he frowned. What 'Bieber' thing?
Then, he recognised the password. He didn't need a password for many things, and with each one he used a different password. TOB123 was his Facebook password.
Facebook.
His eyes widened, but just before he could ask - or demand - exactly what this 'Bieber' thing was, a paper package from a straw was blown in his face. Cursing, he flicked it away with a grunt of vague annoyance, then glared at the playful man with a death glare.
"Myles," He said slowly, "What have you done?"
He decided he didn't trust the man's word any longer, so he pulled his phone out and clicked on the internet. The 3G system was not as advanced as a touch screen, but at least he could still use the internet.
He clicked on Facebook, and checked his status updates. There couldn't have been more than three altogether, as he wasn't a very active user, and he didn't have any 'friends' on it. But he went on it anyway in order to feel like he was a normal person, with a normal life like the rest of them. It was a time he could forget that he was actually Byron Willoughby, a wanted criminal.
When he clicked on his recent status update, however, he noticed something out of the ordinary. It mentioned Justin Bieber, and him singing in the shower.
Raising his eyebrows, he slipped his phone back in his back pocket and stared with a clenched jaw in Myles' direction.
I'm so going to kill you.
"Okay, first of all..." He counted one point off with his finger. "Justin Bieber died over fifty years ago. Second..." He counted off another point. "I don't sing in the shower. Third..."
He seemed to think about this for a while, then he added with a comically serious expression, "I'm so spitting in your next drink. And don't expect it to be 'extra appley' next time, Mister." He growled, pointing an accusing finger in Myles' direction. "In fact, don't expect it to be appley at all. I'll just pee in it, instead."
Nodding firmly he turned away again, pretending to amuse himself with scrubbing away at imaginary marks on the floor.
He wasn't sure why he was pretending to e annoyed, since it wasn't like anyone would see his statuses. But still... He had to protect what little pride he had left.
Yeah. Pride. That was it.

Griffin watched Toby innocently, sucking his Appletini through his straw, as his friend pored over his cellphone, obviously checking his Facebook account. When the man shot him a withering glance, Griffin quailed automatically away, his eyes adorably wide behind his glasses.
"Okay, first of all... Justin Bieber died over fifty years ago." Toby pointed out irritably, "Second... I don't sing in the shower. Third..." There was a terrible pause, and Griffin cast Toby a shifty glance as he waited to hear the third point.
"I'm so spitting in your next drink. And don't expect it to be 'extra appley' next time, Mister." His eyes followed the progress of the finger pointing harshly at him, "In fact, don't expect it to be appley at all. I'll just pee in it, instead."
"You wouldn't!" Griffin gasped, horrified, but Toby's expression said it all. Oh yes I would.
Shuddering dramatically, Griffin downed the last dregs of his 'safe' Appletini and said, "I won't be buying drinks here for a while, then. I certainly don't want to be drinking pee, least of all yours."
He pulled a face, pushing away his empty glass, and added, "Also, Bieber is a legend, dead or not. He's the King of Pop of the century, you know. I sing Bieber in the shower." Griffin shrugged, "And I'm not ashamed to admit it."
Griffin drummed his fingers on the counter for a moment, looking bored without his drink to occupy him.
"Can I play with the ice machine?" He asked brightly, wide eyes darting to the whirring machine in the background that prepared the crushed ice for margaritas.

"Well then that's a lesson well learnt, isn't it?" Tobias replied smugly, pouring himself a shot of vodka. He was allowed a certain amount of units a night free of charge, although sometimes he paid anyway. Dan would need the Time knowing his bills.
Sighing, he downed the shot with one gulp, then choked on the strength of the burning sensation that was creeping deeper into his gullet and into his stomach. Shaking his head, he poured another. Just one more, the help him sleep that night.
"lso, Bieber is a legend, dead or not. He's the King of Pop of the century, you know. I sing Bieber in the shower."
"Oh, I bet you do." Toby replied, downing another shot.
"And I'm not ashamed to admit it."
Toby shot him a look, then put the bottle of vodka back on the shelf and poured himself a glass of water. He was hardly under the influence of alcohol, but the last thing he needed was dehydration, especially when the bar was the only place he could go to that had clean, running water.
"Can I play with the ice machine?" Myles asked innocently, casting his gaze to the small machine on the end of the bar desk, churning away some crushed ice.
"No." Tobias grunted, taking his empty cocktail glass and put it aside for washing.
"That ice machine cost Dan three years in Time. I'm not having you playing with it twice." He lowered his voice and rolled his eyes. "The second time to apologise." He sipped his water, then leant over the desk again. At first it looked like he was just leaning and staring into thin air, but then he pulled out a small set of TV controls, and tossed them to Myles.
"That's broken. If you're so bored, fix it. Then you can watch TV."
He grinned angelically, then cuffed Myles over the head again.
"I'm sure there'll be some old Thomas The Tank Engine episodes for you to watch."

Griffin pouted in disappointment when Toby said that he couldn't play with the ice machine, although he had been expecting that. He had mostly asked out of boredom, anyway. Luckily, his friend took pity on him, and a moment later, Griffin found himself catching a dusty old TV remote that the barman had thrown to him. Cleaning away the dust with his fingers, Griffin cast Toby a curious glance.
"That's broken. If you're so bored, fix it. Then you can watch TV." Toby offered, and Griffin's face lit up at the offer. He actually appreciated the fact that Toby was trying to keep him entertained. It was almost as if he cared... People usually didn't care much when Griffin was bored. They just found him annoying... Not that he blamed them, of course.
He grunted in surprise when Toby cuffed him on the head again, and looked up at him with baleful eyes.
"I'm sure there'll be some old Thomas The Tank Engine episodes for you to watch." His friend offered, grinning angelically.
"I don't watch Thomas The Tank Engine!" Griffin objected, horrified, "I'm not a child, you know. Trains can't talk - that's just ridiculous."
Huffing irritably, Griffin started tampering with the broken remote in his hands, soon losing himself in his work.
It took him a few minutes, but soon enough, the man's magic fingers had coaxed the old thing back to life.
Pointing it at the TV, Griffin pressed the 'on' button, and grinned widely as the screen crackled into life.
"I did it!" He chirped happily, quickly flicking through all the channels, "Now I'm King of the TV!"
Cackling to himself, Griffin skipped through the channels at double speed, until finally he found some cute animated movie to keep him entertained.
Pacified now, Griffin grabbed a random salt cellar sitting on the counter, and shook some into his hand. Still watching the screen, he licked the salty crystals from his hand, totally oblivious to any weird looks that his actions earned him.

((It's 1AM. You owe me. XD))

Toby raised his hands in defeat at Myles' snappy comments, turning away to amuse himself some other way. “Just thinking outloud,” he mused, “Thinking outloud...”
He managed to amuse himself for a few minutes, leaving Myles to tamper away with the remote. Honestly, Toby thought it was buggered. Some idiot had dropped it in a glass of beer a few months back and it hadn't worked since. But hey, as long as it kept that overgrown child busy, then it was fine with him.
So it surprised him greatly when he heard Myles squeak that he'd fixed it, and managed to switch on the TV without having to touch it, only using the remote control. Tobias raised his eyebrows towards the sky, just staring at the static-prone TV screen as it lit up and revealed a blurry picture of some news reporter back in the rich regions. Looking away in disinterest, Toby let Myles flick impatiently through the channels, making a comment on being 'king of the TV', until he settled for some animated programme. He then sprinkled some salt onto a cupped hand, and Tobias was about to warn him that it was salt, not sugar, but Myles already knew. He sat there, happily licking away the salt like it was the most normal thing in the world.
Toby rolled his eyes. He'd seen enough.
Sighing, he opened a drawer under the till and pulled out two bags of plain, ready salted crisps. They would be a rubbish meal, but a meal nonetheless.
Closing the drawer with his foot, he placed a bag of crisps on the desk by Myles and poked him between the shoulder blades quietly to get his attention.
“Here.” He murmured, then opened his own bag with a firm pull. “I'm not having you scavenging for salt on my watch. It's unsanitary.”
That was a half-lie, but he didn't correct himself. Instead, Toby poured the entire bags' contents into his mouth, chewed with some difficulty, and stuffed the bag in the big by his feet.
Once he's swallowed it all, he jerked a thumb behind him. “I'm going to just go get a barrel of beer. Let me know if anyone tries to steal anything, okay?” He winked, although he was only half joking. “I'll be back in a minute.”

A minute was a long time when trouble was stirring behind your back.

Just around the corner, a gang of Time takers were gathering together outside the busy bar. Each had a hoodie on, hoods pulled right up to cover their faces. They looked like terrorists. The cheap kind that tried to look scary on looks alone. But for this group, appearances could be deceptive.
The leader – a tall, lanky character who's hoodie was not so, but in fact a thick, brown, outdoors jacket with a hood, dark trousers and large, leather boots. Although his hoot was up his jacket was open, pulled more so by his hands that were hooked in his trouser pockets.
“Come on, lads.” He jeered. “Let's have some fun, shall we?”

With a loud bang, the door of the pub swung open and the gang spilled in like parasites, swarming the other customers, smashing the drinks all over the floor and ushering them with rude gestures out of the bar. Tobias entered the main room again to see what all the hassle was about, and was met by a group of men with threatening looks about them shadowed faces pulled into sickening sneers.
The leader pulled down his hood, revealing a pair of large, piercing blue eyes, dyed blonde hair and a self-righteous grin.
“Hurry up, man! A drink for the lads and I, yes?”
Tobies leant against te table with the same cool composure he usually wore, but his eyes were narrowed slightly, and there was a faintly evident bit of tension in his lower arms. He was used to miscreants like these, but not this certain man in particular. This was different.
This was dangerous.
“Of course.” He replied calmly. “But it'll cost you years.”
The leader, a man famously known as Cal, scrunched his face up in distaste. “Since when?”
“Since you stormed into my pub and scared off all the customers.”
They chuckled. Tobias just watched Cal cautiously as he paced the small room, kicking a chair over as he went. Eventually he stopped, and seemed to reconsider Tobias' request, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “Alright,” he said eventually. “That'll be fine. We'll just take it from your Time.”
For the first time since their arrival, Tobias smiled. “You can try.”
Just then, in the corner of his eye, one of the gang members tossed an empty bottle from a barrel in the corner of the room to Cal, who caught it skilfully in one hand. He didn't hesitate. He held it handle-up and smashed the base against a table, causing it to shatter onto the wooden floor. One minute Tobias was watching this happen, the next he had the uneven edge of a glass blade pointing at his throat.
Even through all this he didn't flinch, but he angled his head slightly against the sharp glass, as if that would ease off the pressure against his soft neck.
“You've failed before, haven't you, Cal?” He challenged, his eyes twinkling. “Why keep threatening me? Why not just challenge me again?”
“I did not fail!” Cal snapped, pressing the glass so sharply against Toby's throat that it caused him to wince slightly. “I was drunk.”
“So was I.” Tobias mused, unsmiling.

A pair of the gang members noticed Myles perched in a corner, and they jerked their heads in Cal's direction. Cal noticed the scrawny figure, frowned for a moment, then smiled, as if a pleasing thought had occurred to him. He gestured for one of the other members to take the glass bottle and keep it at Tobias' throat, who didn't once back away from his new attacker, but watched with a frown as Cal approached Myles, sat beside him, and wrapped a heavy arm around his shoulder.
It was not a friendly gesture.
“You didn't run away.” The blonde man sneered in his ear, loud enough for the others to hear. “Which means that, I'm guessing, you two know each other?”
He shot Tobias a triumphant look. Tobias glared at him.
Myles dropped the arm around Myles shoulder to his Time arm, and in one swift movement he had grabbed it in a vice grip and yanked up his sleeve, revealing thirty glowing years in a digital format.
Cal's grin couldn't have been any wider.
“You're not from around here, are ya?” He snarled, then flopped his arm back around Myles' shoulder, pulling him firmly closer. “You're a long way from home, my friend.”
“Cal,” Tobias warned. “Release him.”
“Oh, such a spoil sport!” Cal jeered, then turned back to Myles, completely ignoring Toby for once. “Why don't we get some shots, eh? All paid for by Goldy Locks, here.” He mused, squeezing Myles' shoulder tightly.
Tobias remained still for the most part, but out of the gang's vision, his fingers were slipping under the desk to a small, white button the size of a door bell switch. He pressed it, slowly, and released. No sound could be heard.
But somewhere, way under their feet, help would be coming.
I just hope...

When Toby tossed him a packet of crisps, Griffin caught it, blinking in surprise. “Here.” The barman said, “I'm not having you scavenging for salt on my watch. It's unsanitary.”
Pulling a face at his friend, Griffin pulled open the bag of crisps, then said with a grin, "Thanks."
Honestly a little touched by the gesture, he nibbled happily away at the crisps, feeling rather pleased by Toby's kindness. This man really was growing on him... Turning him in would be harder than he'd thought... If I turn him in at all.
Shrugging off his thoughts, Griffin tossed another crisp into his mouth, and as he chewed, he heard Toby say, I'm going to just go get a barrel of beer. Let me know if anyone tries to steal anything, okay? I'll be back in a minute.”
"Fair enough." Griffin replied as his friend turned to leave, "But just so you know, if anybody does try to steal anything, I'm gonna split. You're the Superman between the two of us, not me."
He flashed a teasing wink, then turned his gaze contentedly back to the TV when Toby left.

Unfortunately, in barely a minute after Toby had left, trouble began to brew. The door of the bar opened with that telltale tinkle which, as with every time before, nearly startled Griffin out of his skin. Looking up quickly, his wide eyes fell upon a most unwelcome sight. He froze.
The group of men were dressed in dark clothes, all with hoods pulled up to shadow their faces, and the way they loomed massively in the doorway, sneering, was enough to convince Griffin that they meant trouble even before they started causing it.
Really?! Toby's been gone a minute, and now I have to deal with this?
His tongue darted nervously over his lips, and as the group started ushering out the customers, Griffin fled in the opposite direction and hid himself behind the bar counter, crouched out of sight.
He swallowed nervously, shivering slightly, and wondered briefly why he hadn't run off like the others.
Then he heard Toby's voice - shining through the turmoil like sunshine through a storm and flooding his veins with warm courage - and suddenly, he understood.
My loyalty is to him. I can't let him down.
He listened nervously to the threatening banter jumping back and forth between Toby and the man called Cal, and eventually, he couldn't just sit and listen any more. Timidly, he stood up, edging around the side of the counter to see what was going on.
Cal had a shard of broken glass to Toby's throat.
Eyes widening, Griffin stumbled backwards, suddenly fearful. He didn't want to see a man die. He didn't want to see the blood... He didn't want to lose a friend. Not again.
Grabbing his phone out of his pocket, Griffin hurriedly began texting for help, but before he could finish, he felt a heavy arm drop around his shoulder. Tension locking his muscles, Griffin felt the phone fall from his cold fingers as he looked up at the threatening face looming over him.
“You didn't run away. Which means that, I'm guessing, you two know each other?”
Griffin did not deny it, and the man's face morphed into a triumphant grin, his lips pulling back in a way that revealed his teeth right to the gums, like a snarling wolf. He grabbed Griffin's wrist.
Wincing, he tried to pull away, but the man held him tightly, and Griffin was powerless to object as his sleeve was yanked up, revealing the thirty years of time glowing brightly on his wrist.
“You're not from around here, are ya?” The man called Cal asked, seeming sickeningly pleased as he draped his arm back around Griffin's shoulder, “You're a long way from home, my friend.”
Griffin flinched away, wrinkling his nose as a whiff of foul-smelling breath wafted over him.
"So are you." He snapped defiantly, "The dumpster is outside."
Luckily for him, Cal missed Griffin's snide remark, because he was once again too busy arguing with Toby. Ignoring the conversation between the two, Griffin closed his eyes in silent prayer, and reached a hand toward his pocket.
He was deaf to Cal's words, but he tensed when he felt a squeeze on his shoulder, and as a shiver of discomfort crawled up his spine, he found the motivation to do what he knew he had to.
His hand vanished into his pocket, and with unexpected strength for a man his size, Griffin knocked Cal roughly aside with his shoulder. The big man stumbled back, scowling angrily, but before he could say a word, Griffin had a gun pointed directly at his head. Cal's eyes widened, and slowly, the corners of his mouth began to droop.
With his hardened eyes narrowed and the gun stretched out in front of him, Griffin looked like a different man entirely. Gone was the weakness and helplessness, gone was the poor little rich boy who couldn't take care of himself... Standing behind that gun, protecting his one and only friend, he transformed entirely. Though into what, it was hard to say. Griffin had still not decided which side of the law he was on...
"You don't know who you're messing with, Cal." He growled, eyes flashing dangerously as he approached, pressing the gun sharply to Cal's forehead. "If you know what's good for you, get out of here before I blow your brains out."
Griffin swallowed anxiously, and tried to keep his fingers from trembling as they gripped the gun, hovering over the trigger.
With the cold hand of fear gripping him, Griffin only prayed that Cal would not figure out he was bluffing.
"You there!" Griffin barked gruffly, jerking his head toward the man who had Toby pinned against the wall. "Drop your weapon and back away from him." His threatening glare fell back upon Cal.
"Or else."
Oh please buy it, please, please, please buy it...

Toby was keeping his eyes carefully on trained on Cal, preparing for any sudden movements that might get Myles harmed. Cal was not the sort of man who showed mercy for anyone, strong or weak, and the fact that Myles looked even the slightest bit bothered by the way he was forcefully handling was enough in itself.
The glass pressed more firmly against his neck, as if warning not to try anything. But Tobias could feel himself growing restless. He knew the procedure of raids like this, he knew he had to stay quiet until the correct moment, and keep a careful eye on the members to make sure none of them were doing anything more suspicious than usual. He just needed to sit tight and wait for Dan to get there.
But all the other times he didn't have to worry about protecting others. Just himself.
Now, things were a little different.

There was a faint, muffled thud as Cal fell to the floor, and to everyone's surprise, Myles got to his feet, a gun in hand. He kept it trained carefully on Cal's head, but the mood in the room changed.
Toby completely forgot about the glass shard at his throat. He was too busy staring in horror at Myles' strong, professional stance, and the way he held the gun so confidently without fear of shooting was unnerving. Not because he knew how to handle a gun – that wasn't rare in the ghetto, people needed to protect themselves somehow – but that in all the time they'd spent together, Tobias had never thought him as the type to know how to handle a gun. But seeing the man now, completely different to his usual hunched, concentrating stature, he realised he didn't know Myles at all.
Cal's cocky grin had sunk from his face, and when he pulled himself to his feet he backed away from Myles, already looking ready to leave.
The man holding the glass against Toby's throat hesitated, waiting for Cal's permission to back away. Cal nodded at him, and slowly, he backed away from Toby, dropping the hand with the weapon to his side. He did not let go, however.
The situation had just got twice as complicated.
Tobias wanted to shout at Myles, tell him to put the gun away. Having the gang on red alert was bad, it ruled out the element of surprise from their list of ways to have the opposition retreating, and they were already outnumbered as it was.
But he couldn't say anything now, because Myles was in charge.
“You sure you want to ride this train?” Cal warned him, his voice lowering to an angry snarl. He didn't like being challenged an great deal, since he always wanted to be the challenger, and this was no exception. “You're playing a dangerous game here, Lovely.” He added, his blue eyes flashing dangerously.
All the gang had stopped now, tensing up, ready for a fight. No doubt they were armed. Tobias scrunched his eyes closed in despair. We are so screwed.

Suddenly, the sound of a loud gun shot echoed through the room, and everyone in the front room nearly leapt out of their skin. Except Toby. He knew who had fired that shot, and it wasn't Myles.
No one fell to the floor, but everyone turned to see where it had come from.
Dan, wearing a dusty, black jacket strolled in from the back room, resting a huge gun on his shoulder, his black hair flopping coolly into a semi-fringe. He looked like he'd just walked into a party.
“Now now, gentleman.” He cooed, resting coolly at the edge of the bar desk, on the other side of the room to Tobias. “You seem to have made quite a mess in my pub.”
He winked cheekily at Toby, who just scowled at him.
Turning back to Cal, Dan lifted the gun off his shoulder and rested the lower end in his other hand, holding it carelessly across his body.
“Now, you have two options. You can leave and never come back, or be difficult, and I'll take this big-ass AK47 rifle and make sure that when you do leave, it will be with more than just your tails between your legs. Your choice.” As if to prove his point, he cocked the rifle and his grin darkened.
Toby rolled his eyes. His boss was such a show-off.
He quickly armed himself with a pair of empty bottles. They weren't as quick and effectve as guns, but he knew well how to use them and cause plenty of pain.
Cal seemed to consider him, then his flashing eyes flicked over Myles with his handgun still trained on him, then at Toby. The two glared at each other, exchanging a silent message that only they could understand. Then, with one sharp cock of his head to the other gang members, he led them out of the pub, pulling up his hood as he did so.
However, before he left completely he approached Toby, who hissed in a breath, preparing for whatever attack might come his way. But instead, he was met with a devious smile and raging eyes.
“I'll be seeing you around, I'm sure.” He murmured quietly, then turned to leave.
“Counting on it.” Tobias replied darkly, but Cal had already gone.

Releasing a long breath, Tobias dropped the bottles in his hands into the empty glass barrel, then turned to Dan as he locked the door behind the miscreants.
“You took your time.” He complained, picking up a broom to start cleaning all the broken glass.
Dan shrugged. “I was busy.”
Rolling his eyes, Tobias busied himself with brushing up the glass as if nothing had happened, until he reached Myles. The man looked troubled.
“Hey,” Toby murmured quietly, looking considerably more relaxed than a few minutes ago. He leant against the broom as he considered the man curiously. “Are you alright? Did he hurt you?”
He didn't seem physically hurt, but Tobias wondered if there was anything else that might have been bothering him.
He was going to bring up the gun thing, but decided not to push it for the moment.
“Oh, and-... Um...” He scratched the back of his head awkwardly. “Thanks for, you know, that.” He flicked his hand over his shoulder, gesturing to the moments earlier. “I was fine, but it was appreciated.” He blushed.

At Cal's challenge, Griffin felt his muscles turn rigid with fear, and that was the only thing that kept his gun arm steady, and pointed at his opposition. He barely had the courage to hold a gun, let alone shoot it... Not with all that blood...
A shudder rippled through him at the thought, and he felt suddenly small as he realized his own helplessness. Still, Toby was free now, and so was he. In theory it made little difference, but it made him feel safer than when he was slumped with Cal's arm around his shoulders like some cheap whore.
He took a deep breath, steadying his grip on his gun as it slipped in his sweaty fingers. The gang was growing restless.
Just as Griffin was starting to fear that a fight might break out, a loud gunshot thundered throughout the room, and he jumped in shock, closing his eyes for a moment as he waited for the mindnumbing pain. He felt his old scars tingle cruelly, but when no new pain accosted him, Griffin let his eyes flicker open, blinking uncertainly. Then he saw Dan, and his heart leaped in relief.
Oh, thank the lord!
Knees wobbling like jelly, Griffin staggered back a step, but he kept his gaze hard, and his grip on his gun harder still when he saw Cal's eyes flick toward him, obviously summing up the situation.
With the rush of blood in his ears, he was deaf to the negotiations, but when he saw the gang turn to leave, he uttered a sigh of relief. Letting his arm drop back to his side, Griffin clutched the bar weakly for support, taking deep, calming breaths while Dan and Toby teased one another with humour that Griffin felt was certainly not appropriate for the aftermath of what might have been a disaster.
He, for one, was deeply shaken - although the itching of his scars reminded him that his own fear came more from the guns than the danger. He could still hear the gunshots echoing in his mind from long, long ago - drowning out even the hum left by Dan's shot mere seconds ago.
Those bullets had taken his mother's life. He would never forget the sound.
Taking a deep breath, Griffin slipped his gun back into his pocket - he had never even taken the safety off - and sat down weakly on a stool beside the bar.
“Hey,” Griffin jumped at the quiet sound of Toby's voice, jerked skittishly out of his thoughts.
“Are you alright? Did he hurt you?”
"N-no..." He stammered, struggling to get a grip on his nerves, "No, I'm fine."
“Oh, and-..." Toby rubbed his head awkwardly, "Um... Thanks for, you know, that. I was fine, but it was appreciated.”
"You were fine?" Griffin repeated, considering the man's flushed face with a somewhat blank expression, "Well then it hardly seems worth the hassle now, but I'm glad you appreciated it, anyway."
He huffed, wiping the sweat from his forehead with a shaky sigh. He was glad that he had thought to bring his gun... He didn't like carrying it, so he had almost left it behind, but after the incident with Eric the day before, he had decided rather to be safe than sorry.
Shaking aside his thoughts, Griffin managed a smile. "Sorry, I didn't do a great job watching the bar, did I?" He joked weakly, "Maybe you should get a guard dog instead?"

Toby had to chuckle when he realised how contradictory his words had been. Perhaps 'fine' wasn't the correct word to describe the situation. He had had a broken glass bottle pointed at his throat anyway.
Still, he had appreciated having it taken away from his throat, even though he knew Cal would never have him killed so easily.
"Sorry, I didn't do a great job watching the bar, did I?" Myles murmured with a faint smile. Tobias frowned at him. Was that a jokey way of saying he felt guilty about what had happened? "Maybe you should get a guard dog instead?"
Toby shrugged. "Tried that, but it ran away." He smirked at the memory, then leant back against the counter, turning his head so he could regard the man. What Myles did may have been a bit careless, but in the end it had made a difference, albeit a small one. And he had risked his own life in the process.
"You know," Toby mused, crossing his arms over his chest. "They would have done what they did whether you were here or not. Nothing that happened here was your fault."
Grunting to himself, he swept away at some glass by his feet, brushing it away from the edge.
"It isn't the first time that has happened, and it won't be the last. Besides..." He sighed. "When Cal does come back it will be for me, not for you or the bar. Or Dan." He jerked his head in Dan's direction. "As long as you keep out of sight they should leave you alone."

"You know, they would have done what they did whether you were here or not. Nothing that happened here was your fault." Toby said, arms folded over his chest. Griffin glanced up at him, blinked in surprise, and responded with a faint smile, "Oh, I know. If it was my fault, I'd be," He waved his hand vaguely toward the door, "Somewhere out there, running away and hoping not to get any AK47 caps in my ass."
He shot Toby a smile, then hopped down off the stool when the man went on sweeping, and plucked one of the larger shards of glass out of the path of the broom. As always, his attention was easily diverted.
Turning the glass thoughtfully in his fingers, Griffin watched the light dance over it, careful not to cut himself on the jagged edges. Meanwhile, Toby went on speaking, and Griffin listened with his attention split two ways.
"It isn't the first time that has happened, and it won't be the last. Besides... When Cal does come back it will be for me," Griffin looked up, his eyes locking sharply on Toby's profile, "Not for you or the bar. Or Dan. As long as you keep out of sight they should leave you alone."
"For you?" He repeated questioningly, watching Toby.
There was silence a moment, then Griffin grunted decisively, and tossed his shiny shard of glass into the bin. It was only going to cut him anyway, and then he'd probably freak out at the sight of the blood. Besides, Toby deserved his attention just then.
Grabbing a spare broom, Griffin set to work amiably helping to clean up the mess, and as he swept, he asked Toby casually, "So what is it between you and that Cal fella, anyway? I know it's none of my business," He shrugged, "But I'm nosey, so whatever." Shooting the man a friendly wink, he bent to sweep the glass he had collected into a dustpan, then tipped it into the bin and turned back to Toby.
"Go on, then." He encouraged, smiling pleasantly as he leaned on his broom, hands folded over the end, and chin resting on his knuckles.
"Tell me the story."
Griffin's wide green eyes were warm behind his glasses, and even after his big fright a moment before, he was still being as friendly as ever. Perhaps he was sticking his nose where it didn't belong, but it was clear that his intentions, at least, were good. He honestly cared about what his friend had to say. That was the thing about Griffin... While most people were so involved in their own problems, Griffin was quite the opposite. He was interested in hearing people's stories, more so than in telling his own. He was simply different from the norm. He had always been different, right from the start.

Tobias realised his mistake when Myles looked up at him, eyes suddenly wide with curiosity, when he mentioned that Cal had it in for him. The two started sweeping for a few quiet moments, and Toby half-hoped Myles was going to let it go. Unfortunately he was not so lucky.
"So what is it between you and that Cal fella, anyway? I know it's none of my business, but I'm nosey, so whatever."
Toby glared at him. However, he did not look as scary as he'd have liked, because Myles looked as interested in him as he had the TV controls earlier on. Rolling his eyes, Toby continued to sweep, trying to get a story together in his mind. He couldn't tell Myles the entire story of course, but there was no reason why he couldn't shove in a few details here and there.
"Go on, then." He urged. "Tell me the story."
"There's nothing to tell." Tobias shrugged, keeping his eyes downcast. But then, contradictory to his words, he went on. "A couple of years ago I was one of them." He jerked his head towards the door, gesturing to the ghostly presence of the group that had just left. His upper lip had curled up in distaste. "I was doing what I could to survive, that's all. But I... I didn't agree with them on a few things. Like how they behaved. How they Timed Out innocent people and left their bodies to rot. How they bullied civilians into giving them free stuff."
And then I found out who Cal is. I couldn't stay with him after that.
Sighing, he continued. "I left. But it wasn't supposed to be that simple. No one just 'left' being one of Cal's men. They tried to kill me a few times, but it never worked. So instead he'd try and challenge me in other ways. Arm wrestles, little tricks to steal my time away. Street wrestling..." He chuckled under his breath. "He really got desperate. He still is, thinking about it. But he's not as bad as he used to be. I think now I just piss him off, because no matter what he challenged me to, I never lost to him."
He smirked slightly.
"It might be the death of me, one day. But Cal doesn't scare me. He might have done once, but not anymore. He just wants me dead now, but he would never just shoot me in the back. It has to be a game to him, so at least he feels like he's won it when I die at the end of it."
"This one time," Dan, who had apparently been eavesdropping the whole time - butted in. "Cal challenged him to a drinks battle. Probably some shitty excuse to make him weak. But instead of saying yes, Toby poured beer all over Cal's crotch, so he looked like he'd pissed himself." He grinned, then shoved Toby playfully. "Thankfully I had the AK47 with me, so there was no trouble inside. But mate, Cal looked like his face was gunna explode!"
Toby raised an eyebrow at his suddenly pally boss. "You've been drinking in that cellar, haven't you?"
Dan grinned guiltily. "One or two."
Rolling his eyes, Toby shoved him back in a playful manner then turned back to Myles, leaning back against the desk. "So yeah... That's how it is. He has his heart set on humiliating me, or using people to get to me, or something. But it won't work, because I've not had anyone majorly close to me he can harm."
He paused, then thought about what had happened that evening. Cal had tried to use Myles as a way to get to Toby, and if Myles had not had that gun, it would have worked.
Does that make Myles... A friend? No... No, I'd already established I couldn't afford to have those. But then, what is Myles, if he isn't a friend by this point?
He realised, for the first time in a while, that he was biting his lip anxiously.
Things just got complicated.

Still leaning on his broom, Griffin listened intently as Toby told him the story, nodding here and there. It did not surprise him that Toby had been part of Cal's gang, after all, he was a rather infamous man when he wasn't hiding away under his false alias... Still, he did not seem a bad person. In fact, Griffin was rather convinced that he was a good one. He could understand as well as anyone how powerful a force desperation could be. When wealth was literally a matter of life and death, who could blame a man for becoming a little ethically sketchy in his attempts to survive?

When Toby went on to describe the challenges, and how he'd never lost one, Griffin felt his lips pull into an appreciative smirk.
That's my Superman.
Frankly, he couldn't imagine anybody taking Toby down... Except for himself, of course. But that was another matter entirely. A matter that Griffin found most comfortable pushed to the back of his mind at this point.
"It might be the death of me, one day. But Cal doesn't scare me." At these words, Griffin glanced up curiously, fixing Toby with a questioning gaze. "He might have done once, but not anymore. He just wants me dead now, but he would never just shoot me in the back. It has to be a game to him, so at least he feels like he's won it when I die at the end of it." Griffin hesitated a moment, then nodded in understanding. "I suppose that makes sense..." He mumbled, frowning, "If he's got a grudge against you, then it wouldn't be enough satisfaction just to kill you... He'd have to beat you first."
These words brought a spark of empathy to Griffin's mind, and he felt his lips twist into a bitter smile for a moment. Then Dan spoke, and the expression was gone, lost beneath a flood of new curiosity as Dan told him still more about his new friend.
"This one time," Dan said eagerly, "Cal challenged him to a drinks battle. Probably some shitty excuse to make him weak. But instead of saying yes, Toby poured beer all over Cal's crotch, so he looked like he'd pissed himself. Thankfully I had the AK47 with me, so there was no trouble inside. But mate, Cal looked like his face was gunna explode!"
At this, Griffin burst out laughing, losing his grip on the broom in his entertainment. He grabbed it as it toppled over, leaning it against the bar, and cast an amused glance toward Dan and Toby, chuckling at the witty banter between the two.
God, you really are a troublemaker, aren't you, Toby? He leaned back against the bar, smiling appreciatively at the man as he shoved Dan aside, before returning his attention to Griffin.
"So yeah... That's how it is. He has his heart set on humiliating me, or using people to get to me, or something. But it won't work, because I've not had anyone majorly close to me he can harm."
"Hm." Griffin nodded, smiling in satisfaction, "You've got the advantage then, don't you?" He tilted his head slightly to one side, "Actually, I think it must be rather fun having a rival like that... Life gets boring without a challenge sometimes, doesn't it?" Griffin's gaze fell upon the mended TV remote lying innocently on the table, and he picked it up, smiling to himself as he flicked to the next channel.

"It's not that fun," Toby said seriously, and left the two to stand and watch him sweep away the rest of the glass. Dan was now succumbed to a stupid, smiling mess, and Myles was now watching the TV.
"Every now and then, yes. But my life is in danger whenever I see him. That shouldn't bother me, but it does. I don't value my life like I should, but there are more important things I have to do in my life than dying."
But it was no use. There was nothing he could say that could persuade his 'audience' of the real dangers of being an enemy of Cal and his gang. What's more, if Myles really was growing on him, then he was in trouble. He'd have to watch his back, and Myles'. Dane had his AK47, he'd be fine.
Sighing, he finished up on tidying the broken glass, and went off to grab his coat.

A couple of minutes later the bar was ready to be closed up, and Toby was up and ready to go. He turned to Myles. "You want a coffee or something? I think there's a place down the road that's open late."
Not that having coffee so late was very logical, but he didn't seem to care.

"It's not that fun, every now and then, yes. But my life is in danger whenever I see him. That shouldn't bother me, but it does. I don't value my life like I should, but there are more important things I have to do in my life than dying."
For the next few minutes, these words repeated over and over again in Griffin's head, and he pondered over them thoughtfully as he sat in his corner, playing on his smartphone. He found it puzzling, what Toby had said. The fact that he didn't value his life probably meant that he felt somewhat ashamed over what he had done, and Griffin could relate to that, but he had also said that he had more important things to do, and that meant that he clearly had some sort of goal. The question was, what? Griffin was curious. For weeks on end he had researched this man, learned of his life and crimes and the charges against him, but to hear things from Toby's - Byron's - side was truly a fascinating thing. Where his colleagues would barely have lent an ear, Griffin found himself growing more and more interested. Toby was not a bad man, but his record clearly stated otherwise. And this more than anything made Griffin want to know: Just who was this man, and what was his story?
The more he got to know him, the less inclined Griffin was to carry on with his mission... Already, he had put it on 'pause', withholding the information he had from his superiors in order to get closer to Toby, and learn more. He wasn't even sure, any more, what he intended to do with the knowledge. All he knew was that he wanted it... He needed it... So that he could decide once and for all just whose side he was on.
"You want a coffee or something?" Griffin jumped, ever skittish, when Toby's voice beside him suddenly broke through his deep thoughts. "I think there's a place down the road that's open late."
Griffin stared at the man for a moment, somewhat surprised that the surly barman had willingly decided to spend some time with him.
Slowly, his lips curved into a smile, and he replied brightly, "That sounds great. I'm in."
Giving Toby an affectionate pat on the shoulder, Griffin slipped his phone into his pocket and trotted toward the door, his surly friend at his side.
"Are you sure you don't mind...?" Griffin asked uncertainly, casting Toby a doubtful glance. "I... I don't want to get in your way or anything."
He swallowed, tongue darting anxiously over his lips, and rubbed his arms self consciously. He wasn't sure why his perpetual shyness was raising its ugly head now, but try as he might, Griffin could not shove it back.
And suddenly it occurred to him that maybe, just maybe, Toby was more than just an interesting puzzle with which to entertain himself in his hours of boredom.
He honestly cared what the man thought... Just a little bit.

Toby hadn't really expected to be turned down, so he just nodded when Myles said he'd do it. He seemed a little nervous since the thing with Cal, which was normal. The only reason Dan and Toby were fine with it was because they had gone through it many times, and they were no longer worried about Cal coming back. He would always come back. That couldn't be helped.
But when Myles started looking unsure, Tobias wondered whether there was more to his actions than just lingering anxiety. He was nervous.
But why was that? All Toby had asked for was coffee...
"Are you sure you don't mind...?" That was a stupid question. If he minded, he wouldn't have asked. "I... I don't want to get in your way or anything."
Toby just frowned at him, as if he had suddenly just sprouted an ugly mole on his nose with a dozen fat, grey hairs poking out of it. These questions were the sort of things a woman would ask. Men weren't supposed to act nervous over coffee.
Rolling his eyes, Tobias just cuffed Myles firmly over the head, as if attempting to snap him out of his nervous state. He had no reason to be nervous in front of Toby. He hadn't been before.
"Myles." He grunted. "Shut up."
He pressed a hand against the smaller man's back, pushing him firmly between the shoulder blades out of the bar. "We're going for coffee." He added, like the matter was not up for discussion. "Go."
He turned to wave Dan goodbye, but was met with a drunk man grinning stupidly, making a crude gesture of the hips, miming some form of sex. He'd obviously caught on that Myles had been the man he'd been texting earlier.
Tobias pulled a face, and showed his boss 'the finger', before bidding him goodnight and closing the door behind him.
Praying to whatever God was listening that Myles hadn't seen that gesture, he began strolling down the street with his hands stuffed in his pockets.
"Are you sure you're alright?" He mumbled quietly, frowning at Myles with a speck of concern. "That was some heavy stuff back there. If it bothered you..." He wasn't sure what he'd do, but he knew what it was like to freak out in difficult situations.

Griffin shrunk away when Toby frowned at him, looking like a dog cowering from a scolding. Then Toby cuffed him on the back of head, causing him to stumble clumsily forward.
"Myles. Shut up."
"Okay."
As he straightened up, Griffin rubbed the back of his head, and cast Toby a sheepish grin, obviously reassured by the playful gesture. Then, with a shove from Toby, Griffin found himself stumbling through the door and out into the street.
"We're going for coffee." His friend stated firmly, "Go."
"Okay, okay!" He laughed, diving out of pushing range and giving Toby a playful sideways shove in retaliation, "I'm going."
And sure enough, Griffin seemed to gain a little confidence again as he walked out into the street, staring up at the full moon rising overhead. Toby lingered behind for a moment, but when Griffin glanced back towards him, he was already catching up, sour-faced as ever.
Shrugging, Griffin fell into step beside his friend, casting him a hopeful smile in an attempt to make him mirror it. Unfortunately, the surly barman kept his stony expression, but when he turned to look at Griffin, his usual frown seemed to hold a speck of concern.
Smile sliding from his face, Griffin tilted his head curiously at the man.
"Are you sure you're alright?" Toby asked softly, and Griffin blinked in surprise at the question. Hadn't he said that he was?
"That was some heavy stuff back there. If it bothered you..."
"No." Griffin shook his head quickly, and shot Toby a reassuring smile, "I'm fine. A little shaken, maybe, but that's okay. I'm more used to it than you'd think..." Dropping his gaze to the ground, Griffin rubbed his head self-consciously, his dark gold hair parting smoothly before his fingers.
"Besides, you were the one with a broken bottle at your throat. Stupid ghetto." He huffed irritably, "Always making me worry... I'm gonna get wrinkles at this rate!"
Clutching his face in sudden horror, he turned to Toby, "I'm not getting wrinkles, am I?" He demanded, eyebrows shooting up in a way that inevitably wrinkled his brow. "Oh, wait... I forgot, I'm done aging." He looked away, grinning, and his stride quickly took on a proud swagger. "Score!"