understood. Tonight, his talhman was close to the surface, that bad side prowling around, demanding to—
“You know, you’re not going to look good with a tan that bleeds.”
Syn jumped. “I thought you went back inside.”
“No, you just want me to do that.” Balthazar lit up a cigarette and exhaled as he clipped an old-fashioned lighter shut. “And before you tell me you’re coming in again, I just want you to know I don’t believe you.”
“Don’t you have someone to rob?”
“Nah.” Balthazar made a pshaw with his hand. “I’ve given all that up.”
Syn cracked a laugh. “Yeah. Right.”
“You don’t believe I can turn over a new leaf?”
“You were born without a conscience.”
“That’s a little harsh, don’t you think.”
“You don’t even know when you’re lying.”
Balthazar held up his cigarette. “Oh, but you are so wrong on that. And it’s because I’m a master liar that I know when other people are fibbing.”
As the male stared at Syn, Syn was of a mind to pick him up and throw him off the fucking mountain. “Isn’t it getting hot out here for you?”
“If you’re good, I’m good.”
“Have you never wanted to have a moment alone?”
“At least I won’t need to light my next cigarette.” The bastard flexed his thumb. “You know, tendonitis is no joke.”
Syn turned and faced his cousin. “You are insane. You realize that?”
“I’m not the one volunteering to be barbecued.”
“What exactly do you call somebody who stands out here just because I am?”
“Ah, but that is not volunteering.” Balthazar narrowed his eyes. “You’re forcing me to kill myself.”
Syn clapped slowly. “Good performance. Now get the fuck back inside before you get hurt for no good reason.”
When Balthazar just stood there, smoking and blinking fast even though he was facing away from the sunrise, Syn crossed his arms over his chest.
“I’m not going inside—”
“Fine, we’ll be torches together—”
Someone opened up the door, and cursed. “What the fuck are you two doing out here?”
Both of them whipped their heads around. Zypher, the outrageously beautiful bastard, was pulling a schoolmarm, his one working eye frowning with disapproval. The other one, which had been lost about two months ago in a stabbing with a lesser, was currently replaced by a falsie with a Captain America shield for an iris.
“This is none of your business,” Syn snapped.
Balthazar motioned. “Come on out. I told him I wasn’t going inside until he did.”
Zypher jacked up his leathers and paraded out onto the steps, even though his face immediately flushed and he had to hold up an arm like someone was about to take out his good peeper with a poker.
“You know, I haven’t seen the sun since before my transition—”
Syn resisted the urge to stamp his shitkicker. “That’s the way it’s supposed to work!”
“Then why are you out here?” Zypher put his palm out. “Balz, k’I have one of those?”
Balthazar offered his pack. “You don’t smoke.”
“But this is what they do in front of a firing squad.” Zypher elbowed Syn. “Get it. Fire squad. Har, har, har.”
Syn looked back and forth between the two of them as Balthazar lit the cigarette and Zypher—
Choked and coughed like someone had given him a mask hooked up to a tank full of diesel fumes.
“You know,” Balz said as he pounded on the guy’s back, “you’re really not a smoker.”
“Christ, how do you do this?” Zypher sputtered as he put the thing out on the tread of his boot. When he straightened, he reared back and hissed. “Hot, oh, hot—”
“Hey! What the hell are you guys doing out here! And why didn’t I get invited to the party?”
All three of them turned around, which was kind of nice as the burn left Syn’s face—although now his back felt like he could fry an egg on it. Syphon, the other of Syn’s cousins, had stepped out of the vestibule, a look of confusion almost noticeable on his face. Not that you could see much of his puss given that both his arms were up and he was tilting back like someone had popped the lid off some plutonium in front of him.
“Come on out,” Balthazar said. “We’re killing ourselves because Syn won’t come in.”
“Oh, okay. Will do.”
As the stupid motherfucker stepped blindly off the entrance’s plat-form and tripped on the stairs, Syn let out a cursing streak that was almost as heated as the glowing orb of death WHICH REALLY DIDN’T HAVE TO BE A PROBLEM FOR ANY OF THEM BUT HIM.
“What is wrong with you people!” He wiped his sleeve over his