"Lock's not gonna fix this," Over his shoulder, Barrow stirs. "Stay down."
Big hands, little bars. The tumbler clicks. Lazar coughs something darkly Ander, and resets. One, over the other, and if it's usually quicker than this — if this oughta go quicker — he doesn't pay it mind. No good comes of that.
A hard yank. The door swings, the picks fold away. And Barrow still hasn't said.
Took too long to bust the lock. Longer to get an eye over shelf and drawer. Rare days that he's knocked off an apothecary: Half this shite, it's useless to the common man. Nostrils flare, and he sucks a breath past bruised throat, and Lazar's never touched the stuff but he knows the stink of lyrium. Store's empty.
(He's out. Sold his stash in some dim act of solidarity. Viktor has plenty — and he'd sit watching Barrow bleed before talking to Viktor just now.)
"Someone dies if this goes on."
That's a promise. He isn't a doctor, but he knows how things break.
no subject
Big hands, little bars. The tumbler clicks. Lazar coughs something darkly Ander, and resets. One, over the other, and if it's usually quicker than this — if this oughta go quicker — he doesn't pay it mind. No good comes of that.
A hard yank. The door swings, the picks fold away. And Barrow still hasn't said.
Took too long to bust the lock. Longer to get an eye over shelf and drawer. Rare days that he's knocked off an apothecary: Half this shite, it's useless to the common man. Nostrils flare, and he sucks a breath past bruised throat, and Lazar's never touched the stuff but he knows the stink of lyrium. Store's empty.
(He's out. Sold his stash in some dim act of solidarity. Viktor has plenty — and he'd sit watching Barrow bleed before talking to Viktor just now.)
"Someone dies if this goes on."
That's a promise. He isn't a doctor, but he knows how things break.