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[Spam for Erik]

[Charles had been on his way back from the soup kitchen to his apartment late. Really late. He'd almost taken Mrs. Turner up on her offer of just spending the night in the spare bedroom at her apartment, but ultimately decided he'd rather just be in his own room tonight.

So he'd headed off, sticking mostly to the well lit streets and trying to keep an eye out for anyone suspicious, and it seemed like he was more or less home free when he heard what was unmistakeably a fight, probably in one of the alleys near by, maybe twenty or so paces ahead.

He knew he should probably stay back, that this was a really good way to get himself killed and it wasn't like he had a weapon on him or anything, but he couldn't. He'd never been great at looking the other way when someone was in trouble, so instead of just walking past, taking another route, putting his head down and pretending he hadn't heard anything, he quickly ran towards the sound of the fight and stopped for a moment in the mouth of the alley, really not sure what he was planning on doing, exactly, but needing to do something, and he quickly ran in.]

Hey! [It was dark, and he could make out maybe two or three figures, probably two, and another pushed up against the wall and half slumped on the ground.] What the hell are you doing?

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Holy God, [he groaned, shaking his head. Is this what it was like, having a friend? More trouble than it was worth, if you asked him.

(But if you couldn't trust your friend, could you trust anyone?)

His voice dropped, he was barely whispering, half hoping Charlie wouldn't hear him. He was stupid, stupid, should just leave the bastard with a bloody nose and move on with his life of secrecy, but--]

You really think the feds haven't got their ins on the gangs?

[Charles gaped at him, open mouthed for a whole two seconds before quickly whispering his response, so be glad he's at least that capable of being inconspicuous.]

Erik, you can't kill a federal agent! They'll kill you for something like that! [And, perhaps more confusingly and/or importantly, because for all he knew now he was an accomplice to this:] Why are you telling me this? I thought you just owed someone a debt or something.

Fer Chirssakes, [Erik snapped, staring at Charles like he was a damn fool (and he was, god damn it, a damn fool who couldn't take a damn hint). His voice was a hiss, barely audible.]

I'm the fucking fed, you dumb bastard!

[....................................................... Oh.

Well, that made a lot more sense. And now he felt like a total idiot for not realizing it earlier, although, really, that probably meant that Erik was just doing a good job, because if he'd been able to tell, he'd probably have gotten himself murdered months if not years ago.

So he just stared for several seconds, really not sure of what to say, and really not liking the way your face is bruising from this angle, buddy, you seriously need some ice or something.]

Oh.

Oh, [he mimicked, shaking his head. Yes get some ice, that would be very nice because ow. Erik steps away from him, still scowling. It's not exactly easy to just stop, but - well. He is glad someone knows. Even if it's a damn stupid thing to do.]

You gonna lay off, now?

Not until you've gotten yourself cleaned up. [And just like that, it might as well have been like Erik hadn't said anything unusual or done much of anything, really. (Un)Fortunately for you, Erik, you're basically stuck with him at this point, and he wasn't going to be satisfied until you'd gotten at least some medical attention.]

Come on, my apartment's not far. I've got some ice and running water, at least.

[He blinks, because that should be expected, but for whatever reason - it isn't. Erik's been so used to doing things on his own, to keeping his head low, his ears open, to getting by and staying secret.

This is strange, now. Having a friend.

Looking down the alley in the opposite direction, he thinks about refusing, but rubs his jaw and turns to spit the taste of blood from his mouth.]

All right, [he said slowly.] Lead the way. And not a word a bout this, Charlie.

[Charles just laughed.] Who would I tell? I wasn't joking when I said I don't have many friends.

[Which probably at least partially explained why he'd latched on to someone he had every right to think was a criminal instead of just going on his way after making sure he wasn't about to keel over dead the first time they'd met.

He started heading towards his apartment, turning back to make sure Erik was following.] You can trust me, Erik. I won't tell anyone.

[He followed. Strange, what stupid things having a friend makes you do. Erik grunted a response, nodding.] Better not, [And it was a pointless affirmation, but - he knew what he'd have to do if Charlie talked, and he didn't want to.

He reached over, clapping Charles on the shoulder, and smiling vaguely past a bloody lip.]

You're all right, you know that?

[Charles chuckled and grinned at him, reaching into his pocket and handing over a handkerchief.]

And you're an idiot who's going to get himself killed. [Which could and had been said about both of them, but. Oh well.] What exactly was your plan, if I hadn't shown up?

And you ain't? [He took the handkerchief, dabbing at his lip without wincing. He shrugged.]

Keep gettin' up till they got bored, I suppose.

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