Hours had passed since Klint had come to wake Faust up and fill him in on the situation. By now, Faust didn't even have the excuse of needing sleep anymore, so Klint was back planted right in front of his door again.
Thinking he might still be out cold, Klint knocked.
Knock! Knock! Knock!…
Knowing the guy from way back, he figured Faust slept like a rock—deep and heavy—so when nothing happened, he called out loud from the hallway.
"Time's up, Fau—"
But it wasn't like he thought. Before he could even finish the sentence, Faust shot back.
"I know, I know. Get in here."
Oh. So he's awake. How shocking…
Klint stepped inside, slowly buttoning up his open white shirt starting from the bottom, then kicked the door shut behind him with his heel.
Faust was sitting on his bed—bare-chested, no blanket, no sheet, just a pair of jeans rolled up to his knees. One foot was crossed over the other thigh while he tied his boot laces.
He finished the last knot, dropped his foot back to the floor, leaned his head against the wall, and turned to look at Klint.
Raising his right eyebrow.
"So. How can I help you…"
Wait a second… That came out way too polite. Not happening.
Faust immediately switched his expression to something more condescending, dropped his voice deeper and colder—like the nice words had slipped out by accident and he was fixing it right away.
"What the fuck do you want now, huh!? Can't you see I'm already awake? Didn't you finish your own shit yesterday? Why are you still dressed like… Mmm… what's the word… business casual? Yeah that's it."
"You wear a shirt when you've got jobs that need punching and heavy lifting, Faust?"
"Mm. I mean, no, I guess not."
"So that means I'm just wearing it casually, right?"
Faust really just looked...bored.
"How the hell did I ever get the dumb idea to take all the killing, blood, and pain for ourselves and leave you with the negotiation gigs? But whatever... So why'd you dress up all fancy like this then?"
"I decided to tag along on your cute little mini mission, because…"
"…? …Come on, man, because what!?"
"I figured you might cause some trouble."
Faust's face changed in a split second. You could read the anger all over it—veins bulging on his forehead, eyes gray but practically shooting flames. He pulled his head off the wall and straightened up.
"Klint. You're already sending me on the exact kind of job that I hate. I don't even need to stop anyone or anything like that. What kind of trouble could there possibly be?
Klint made a slow down motion with his right hand, like he was telling him to take it easy.
He walked across the room under Faust's aggressive, exhausted glare until he was right by the bed.
"Mind scooting over a bit? As you can see, there's nowhere else to sit. You know that."
"Tch. Fine."
Faust slid over just enough to make room. Klint nodded in thanks, sat down beside him, and slung an arm over his shoulder.
"Here's the deal, brother. Looks like Winter City's got more waiting for us than just debt."
"Huh!? What the else is waiting? Spit it out already."
Ahem. Ahem.
"10th Heir of The Victory is apparently somewhere nearby too."