Chapter Text
Ivy had just left, heading out towards Viktor’s, ready to extract some valuable information out of him. And now, Rocky and Freckle had made their way back to the limestone tunnels. Freckle held the small pistol he'd been given in his hand as he followed Rocky, who seemed to almost always lead the way between the two of them. Rocky noted his cousin’s rather blank, expressionless countenance, which was either disconcerting or reassuring, and for the life of him, Rocky couldn’t quite pick out which. Upon reaching the door, Rocky knocked on it, the two outside almost huddling around it. “We’re here to escort you to your meal, monsieur,” Rocky said, putting on a stuffy, somewhat uptight voice.
“Is that so?” Mordecai wondered, his ears perked at both the sudden voice and the mention of a possible meal. This was a potential chance to escape, granted the opening for it came through. That was certainly important and very enticing, but the thought of just eating something somewhat clouded his mind from other, equally important thoughts at that moment. Normally, he'd have a much less severe reaction to such things, but it was almost two in the afternoon now, and that meant it had certainly been more than twenty-four hours since he'd last eaten. Sure, he wasn't really doing all that much, but that didn't warrant the starving and all that.
“Why indeed so. We’re gonna let you out of there for an hour-ish. You’ll have the finest lunch you’ve ever had… as a hostage.” Rocky’s hands moved to the locks on the door. Freckle stood behind him, the gun in his hand, at guard.
“A high bar to clear, as it were.” Mordecai’s comment was dry enough to nearly confuse its meaning. It was a joke, kind of, but that plain, matter-of-fact tone of voice was about the best Mordecai could muster to tell it with. That was the best he could ever muster. He stood up, standing by the door, beginning to tidy up his clothes. He brushed himself down and adjusted his glasses.
“Well, we’ll have to try extra hard then.” His ear to ear grin was clearly audible in his comment. He unlocked the first of the two locks.
“Will there be a chance to use the bathroom before said lunch?” There was the 'begging for the bare necessities’ thing again.
“Sure, why not? You've got the hour.” The second and final lock was undone. Rocky grabbed the door by its handle and swung it open, making Mordecai flinch from its sudden, hasty opening. “There you go!”
The two were now face to face, which, despite the hours of conversation that had already taken place, hadn’t even happened yet on account of the door. Mordecai looked familiar to Rocky— how could he forget someone like Mordecai? The spectacles and the unabashedly fancy and proper dress and way of conducting himself stuck out strongly. And likewise, Rocky looked familiar to Mordecai. Rocky was just as conspicuous as Mordecai was seen to be, with that blue suit and the grin that looked as if it comprised most of his face, not to mention that large, obnoxious tie. Both looked at each other for a moment before Rocky spoke again, “Alright, well, I need to pat you down before we get going.”
“Must you—” Mordecai began before Rocky began to pat him down. Mordecai scowled as Rocky’s hands scanned across his body. Freckle took a step forward, ready to take the gun off of Rocky's hands after he grabbed it.
Rocky stopped after a few seconds and grinned. “Is that a gun in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?” Mordecai's brow furrowed and he frowned further as Rocky's hand began to fumble about inside his overcoat. Rocky grabbed Mordecai's gun and pulled it out. “It’s a gun, as it turns out.” He held the gun out in the general direction of Freckle, who grabbed and pocketed it. Noticing Mordecai's continued scowl, Rocky said, “Joke. It's a joke, Mordecai. I knew it was a gun. I doubt you're ever happy, let alone seeing me.”
Rocky continued to pat Mordecai down for another moment, checking if there was anything else worth noting or any other weapons on him, but this revealed nothing new. Except, perhaps, further evidence that Mordecai didn't like being pat down, as it seemed. Rocky stopped and cleared his throat. “Well?” Mordecai asked, fixing his tie and adjusting his suit.
“It’s time to escort you to that meal I promised.” Rocky took a few steps down the tunnel and stopped, turning quickly. “Freckle, you stay behind him and keep your eyes on him.”
“I'm not planning on running.”
“Miss M's orders,” Rocky lifted his hands up as if to say ‘hey, don’t blame me’, before turning back ahead and walking farther away, “not mine.” He finished, turning his head slightly to look at Mordecai with his typical grin before turning back to where he was walking and putting his hands down. Mordecai followed, with Freckle staying behind him, gun in hand.
The tunnels were as damp and dirty as Mordecai remembered, both from back when he used to work in them and from just before being locked up. He observed the various things about he hadn’t bothered to or hand a chance to when he was here last night. For example, there was blood splattered in some areas. Probably belonged to those pig farmers that raided the other day. Surprising that the Lackadaisy did as well as it did, given that it had no guns, really. The pig farmers weren’t particularly formidable enemies, granted, but still.
They reached the actual establishment after just a short walk, and it certainly looked like more of a mess than when he first arrived. There were indeed bullet holes in most things, but it was most noticeable with the lights above. Almost all of the bulbs had been shot out, and glass littered the ground now. And most of the chairs certainly didn’t look particularly inviting to him, personally, with the holes and all that. They passed through the room, towards the main entrance, where the doors were left open. Passing through the doorway, they began up the stairs, with Rocky being a few steps ahead of Mordecai, and Freckle being right behind him, his back occasionally bumping in the gun he held, reminding him of the danger presented by escaping. Rocky carefully opened the hidden door at the top of the stairs, and then held it open as the other two made their way up. He closed it as the two shuffled out of the way.
“So, what’s on the menu?” Rocky asked.
“The washroom,” Mordecai stated, subtly signalling to the door by the shelves with his hand.
“Oh, well th— Err, well…”
“What is it?”
“I can’t leave you by yourself, as Miss M told me, so…”
“Yes?”
“I suppose I should go in with you? To make sure you don’t try anything.” Rocky rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. Freckle looked at him, mildly concerned.
“I assure you, the little one practically prodding me with the gun as we walked up here was plenty deterrent,” Mordecai attested, signalling Freckle with a nod in his direction.
“I know, but I can’t go against what Miss M asked of me.”
“Understood, but that doesn’t change the situation.” So this was the life of a hostage, huh? Arguing over how he might be able to use the bathroom? Even just hearing about the overarching rivalry between the two speakeasies from captivity would be worthwhile as compared to this.
“What if I just stand the other way? You know, I’m in there and I can do something if you try to run, but I’m just, looking away? Does that work? Is that okay?”
Mordecai wasn’t going to waste time arguing this. He didn’t have the argumental leverage to convince Rocky otherwise on this, and Mordecai had both a set limited time outside of the storeroom and a definite need to just use the washroom, as inelegantly as he could put it at this point, so he was just going to have to agree with him already. “Fine, that’ll do.”
“Alright then.” Rocky adjusted his hat. “Freckle, you just stay out here and wait. Burst in if you hear screaming, struggling, or generally disconcerting noises and feel things might be going south.” Freckle nodded. “Great.” Mordecai opened the door and stepped in, with Rocky following behind, closing the door behind him.
The room was humbly sized, with clean tile floors, the apparently ever-important toilet, and a sink and small mirror opposite it. Generally, rather nice, although it became a bit inconvenient for Rocky, who faced the mirror and tried to avoid looking at Mordecai as he looked the other way. Mordecai began to undo the button of his pants, careful so as to keep himself concealed from Rocky, the intruder. He tried to forget about Rocky and about how he shouldn’t have been in the room with him— it was making him uncomfortable. This whole bathroom debacle had been making him uncomfortable.
Rocky stood with his back to Mordecai, trying to keep his gaze affixed on the wallpaper or in some thousand-yard stare. But, Rocky continued to fail as his gaze kept falling upon Mordecai through the reflection of the mirror, and Rocky began to notice things about him he previously hadn’t. At first, he was just looking at Mordecai with a rather blank mind. But then he suddenly started thinking about Mordecai as he looked at him. Mordecai was rather slim. Sure, he’d noticed before, not like it was some secret or difficult to tell, but as his eyes scanned across his generally unexceptional backside, he took it in more. And he began thinking some more. And he sure did look neat, didn’t he? The spectacles and the fancy outfits had drawn him in earlier, hadn’t they? And— Mordecai flushed the toilet and Rocky quickly darted his eyes away to some random part of the wall, pretending to be distracted with something.
So Mordecai was actually rather attractive. That much had probably been in the recesses of Rocky’s mind since he first saw him, but now he just actively recognized it. He’d been distracted by Mordecai’s antagonizing nature on account of his Marigold position the last time he’d seen Mordecai, so he hadn’t been focusing on his looks at all. But his attraction, on its own, didn’t mean anything; Rocky saw plenty of people as physically attractive. And Mordecai seemed uninterested, impossible to get to, and not even really like the kind of person Rocky would care for, so it wasn’t like he was running the risk of falling in love with the Marigold hostage. But perhaps it might mean a couple of wayward glances.
Mordecai walked over towards the sink, making Rocky step aside, and he began to wash his hands in the basin. “See? Painless,” Rocky said.
“Not physically,” Mordecai stated, his gaze staying steady on his hands.
“Oh Mordecai, what a jokester.”
“Yes, light-hearted whimsy and such.”
“Well, at least you don't seem to be escaping. That's good.”
“Indeed. It's precisely as if someone had declared that exact thing just moments ago.”
“It is like that, isn’t it?” Mordecai finished washing his hands and dried them on a folded hand towel sat next to sink. He carefully unfolded it and scrutinized his hands with it.
“Well, should we—” Rocky paused, expecting Mordecai to be ready to leave, only to turn and see him folding the towel back up. “You don't have to fold that.”
Mordecai's ear twitched, turning towards Rocky some. “Of course I do.” He finished and sat it back where it was.
“Alright, so food, then?” Rocky opened the door a crack.
“Yes, that would be advantageous.”
“Great!” Rocky quickly swung the door open and stepped through the threshold, Mordecai following suit. Freckle, who had been looking out the window, quickly turned to face the door. But his surprised tenseness quickly faded and he stood simply as before. “So, some food is in order. Time for master chef Rocky to whip up some fantastic meals for everyone!”
“No!” Freckle shouted. “You can't do that.”
“Why not? I was excited to use the knives.”
“You've started three fires just in trying to boil water. I'll do it.” He began to walk behind the counter.
“Alright. Would master chef Freckle be so kind as to procure some of their finest flapjacks for retired chef Rocky?” There were those pancakes again.
Freckle nodded. “And, uh, you?” Freckle turned to look at Mordecai, who stood there, less afraid of Freckle after hearing his voice attached to that face, despite the gun.
Mordecai took a quick glance at the shelves and their ingredients. He also thought back to when he used to work here and what he'd sometimes have. He remembered what he'd gotten Mitzi to start selling specifically because of him. He wasn't sure if she would've continued selling it, but it was worth an attempt, especially since it would certainly be enjoyable. “Corned beef, delicatessen style?” he tried.
“Uh, wh—”
“Corned beef, cut thinly, on a sandwich.”
“Oh, alright. I guess if we have some…”
Rocky sat down on a stool by the counter as Freckle turned around and began to work on the requests. Rocky smiled at Mordecai. “Come on, sit down,” he said.
“I've been sitting for hours.”
“You've got reason to now. Not to mention company. Right, Freckle? You’re company.”
“Oh, uh, sure.” Freckle said, setting his gun aside as he pulled out a pan.
“See?” Rocky beamed. Mordecai exhaled and sat down on a stool. It was to the right of Rocky and left a stool in between the two of them. “Look, wasn’t that easy?”
“I suppose it was easy enough.”
“That’s the spirit!”