5' 3"
Morgan was upset. Maybe, though, Noah had gotten used to this feeling so much that, even though he was in an extremely shitty mood, he could still have a small talk, make jokes, and just live his life. In other words, he behaved as if nothing had happened. However, this made-up easiness didn't mean anything. Ethan could feel that Noah was clearly upset. And he was worried about him. It was interesting to find out what had thrown him off stride more? The fact that their suspicions about a mysterious and astucious enemy had come true? Or maybe that moment when Thomson called that girl a bitch? Ethan didn't feel guilty for what he had said, thinking that the word he had used described her in the most accurate manner. What was the point of bowing and scraping before someone who chose a hundred bucks over their own dignity? Of course, it was pointless. While television, radio, and YouTube videos were screaming about freedom and democracy, the majority didn't even understand what it truly meant. That's why everything that was supposed to bring light and prosperity to society smelled funny now. People didn't understand freedom as freedom of choice or freedom from the government's control anymore. They moved forward, convincing themselves and others that 'freedom' meant saying and doing whatever you wanted. Anything you could possibly think of, except, maybe, things that were seen as crimes, according to the criminal code, and nobody gave a damn about morality, pride, self-respect, or sense of occasion. Apparently, an individual wasn't obliged to have these character traits since they weren't mandatory for public law, which meant their presence was non-regulatory in society. 'What about a sense of conscience?' some might've asked Ethan. What would he answer then? A hundred bucks – and the sense of conscience would be out of sight.
Interesting, are that girl's friends also so money-minded? Should he offer them a couple of Gucci shoes in exchange for a video where they would be pulling her blonde extensions? Ethan was mad that the reason the girl had told them everything was fear that others, besides Morgan, would find out her little secret, not a feeling of remorse. Thomson wanted revenge! A pair of Gucci shoes, and Ethan's dreams would come true. The question wasn't about whether the girls would agree to beat her ass. It was more about how many of them would come to the university wearing new shoes the next day.
Money seduces people. However, Morgan had been trying to give Ethan money back for the ice cream, like a stubborn donkey. It was cute, but it was driving him mad at the same time.
You don't let me take care of you, constantly trying to give me the stupid money back. If the only thing I can give you is that goddamn ice cream, then I'll be buying every single kind of it for the rest of my life, not asking for anything back.
"What's on your mind?" Ethan asked, stopping at the traffic light and noticing Morgan staring at the car door, completely frozen.
"Processing what has happened," Noah answered.
"That person must be really hooked on you if he's ready for such twists and turns to make you feel hurt," Ethan noticed. "Have you thought about any reasons that could lead to these consequences?"
"I haven't," Noah answered coldly, "I've never done anything bad to anyone," he stated with confidence, "It must be a mistake."
"Too bad," Ethan said, pressing the gas.
"Too bad?" Noah frowned, "Too bad that I did nothing bad! I can't believe my ears!"
"Why?" Ethan smiled, "Then it wouldn't be so frustrating," he noticed.
"For who?"
"For you. Plus, it would be way easier to find out about your bully."
"I don't want to be a villain only because it's convenient for someone," Noah said angrily, frowning.
"You can always use me as your role-model. See, I'm a villain because it's comfortable for me," Ethan smirked.
"You're not a villain... You're just a little bit too aggressive sometimes."
"And I know it turns you on," Thomson said, pulling over near the building.
A heavy silence hung over the car; Ethan could almost feel it on his skin. He said it on purpose to drag Morgan out of his thoughts full of guilt. He said it with no regret.
Don't smile, don't smile, don't smile.
Ethan saw, with the corner of his eye, Morgan slowly turning towards him, his face scarlet like a winter sunset, so he strangled a laugh.
"W-w-what did you just say?" Noah said it in a husky voice.
"Huh? I'm saying I know that it turns you mad," Ethan said poker-faced, "However, I am who I am. I can't be perfect for everyone, but I can be perfect for myself. I won't change."
"Eh…Uh…Okay," Morgan exhaled, grabbing his jeans with his fingertips so hard that the skin underneath his nails turned white.
"Okay? And not a single word about morality?" Ethan asked, surprised. "Is everything okay? You behave weird," he said, trying not to laugh.
"What? No! I'm just a bit…uh…confused. I misheard you saying…"
Ethan drove to the parking lot, stopped the car, and, leaning on the steering wheel, looked at Noah examinably.
"What?"
"Uh… I mean… Well… I didn't quite get it."
"You didn't get what you heard?" Ethan clarified, staring at Noah.
You don't look so upset now, do you?
"I… My heart's about to jump out," Noah cried out in despair.
"It won't," Ethan said, getting out of the car first. Morgan didn't move. "We're here," Noah was still holding onto the fabric of his jeans, a bit above his knees. "You get out yourself, or else I'll have to help you. Don't make me take you across the parking lot in my arms."
Morgan had jumped out of the car before Ethan finished the last phrase.
"I… I'm sorry. I was lost in my thoughts a little."
Ethan suddenly remembered Noah's sketchbook and asked himself how this shy guy could draw things he had drawn. Or, which was more important, how did his face look when he was sketching all that? What did he do with the sketches after? Ethan hoped he was jerking off, not just sighing, while hugging his pillow. This fake innocence wouldn't have suited Morgan. Thomson hoped he could boost Noah's imagination with his earlier phrase so that he could continue drawing his masterpieces. Ethan would love to have a look at them later.
5' 8"-5' 9"
Noah thought that maybe he should consider going to the therapist because he was almost sure he was slowly coming undone due to his loneliness. The way he misheard that phrase!
The dark-glassed building, near which Ethan parked the car, blinded them with sundogs. It was only two storeys high; however, judging from the height of the building, the ceiling was quite high. There was a name of the place above the second storey windows: 'Blackstone Range.'
"A gun store? Do you underpay your bodyguard so much that he has to work extra at the store?" Noah asked, surprised. Ethan found his assumption amusing.
"No. We pay Duncan enough so he can be a regular customer at this place. You should probably know that, usually, there's not only a store in such places," he explained, going up the stairs to the entrance.
"I can't go inside," Noah mumbled shily.
"Why is that so?"
"I don't have a possession license. They won't let me in," Noah stated. Ethan looked at Morgan, surprised, trying to guess whether he was really that naive or if he was faking it. It turned out that Noah was indeed so naive.
"Morgan, are you okay? You don't have to have a license to go inside this place. You need to show it only if you want to buy a gun. You don't need any specific documents to go inside and look around," Ethan opened the door for Noah and welcomed him inside.
"O-o-o-oh… I see. I've just never been to such places before."
"Here's your chance, then."
"I'm feeling uncomfortable."
"I think many people must feel uncomfortable whenever they come here for the first time."
"Did you also feel that way when you came here for the first time?"
"No."
Why Noah wasn't even surprised?
The ceiling did look high, and the room itself was quite big. Noah could compare this place to any other supermarket, though there was one giant difference: there were only a few customers. A couple of men were standing by the remote window, choosing bullets. Other individuals were examining items behind the glass. There was a cashier's desk in the farthest corner of the room. Hunting shotguns and rifles were hanging behind the back of the cashier.
Ethan didn't waste time looking at the guns and headed straight towards the cashier's desk. Noah followed him, looking around. He usually had no interest in firearms; however, now he was dying of curiosity.
"Hello, Ranbir," Ethan greeted the cashier. A dark-skinned middle-aged man with a two-day's bristle lifted his eyes from the military hardware magazine and smiled broadly.
"Haven't seen you in a while, Mr. Thomson. You've recently forgotten about us!" the man complained jokingly. Ethan just shrugged his shoulders as an answer.
"Is Duncan here?"
"Sure."
"The usual place?"
"Of course."
"I'll go see him."
The Indian guy nodded and looked at Noah. He didn't say anything, but Morgan felt awkward again. He thought that the man had definitely understood that Noah was a newbie who had never held a gun before.
"It's the first time I'm seeing you accompanied by a friend," he addressed Ethan, smiling. "Do you want to introduce him to Ruger or Walther?
Ethan turned to Noah.
"Do you want to do some shooting?"
"Can I… Well… Am I allowed to do it with no license?" Noah mumbled and stuttered.
"Of course!" Ranbir answered instead of Ethan. "We organize tons of occasions, and not all of the participants have the license in their pocket! Bachelor and bachelorette parties! Conferences! Receptions! Even dates! Young man, if you have a lady you like, you should bring her here as soon as possible!" Apparently, Ranbir wasn't just working as a cashier. He definitely had a huge commercial sense. "Imagine this: a closed room, silence, and teenage love! Two people! Alone. For the whole hour. You. Guns. Targets. Adrenaline's pumping through your veins. Our instructors will be staying right outside in case you need help. Nobody will disturb you! You won't believe how magical the atmosphere of a shooting range can be when you're alone with your loved one! There's nothing more intimate than hugging your significant other on the firing range while you're helping them aim or make the right posture!"
Noah broke out in a sweat a little.
"Ranbir," Ethan interrupted him, "Give us a Glock and a Beretta. Twenty-six bullets for the Beretta and twenty-four for the Glock."
Apparently, Noah never said if he wanted to do some shooting, even though he wanted to. However, Ethan probably made a decision for him while Ranbir had been advertising their perfect shooting date with a hypothetical girlfriend.
"No problem," the man nodded, satisfied with the job he had done. Ethan paid for everything, and then Ranbir, after switching with the other cashier, showed them the way into the building. There were several galleries back there.
"Duncan's here," Ranbir knocked on the closed door, and then gave Noah and Ethan their ear defenders, safety goggles, and bullets. "Be nice," he winked and went back to the cashier desk.
"Is he going to leave us alone with the pistols?" Noah asked, shocked.
"If we were both new, he wouldn't. I'm a member of their shooting club, though," Ethan explained, entering the shooting range.
"Oh, now I understand which hobby you talked about the first time we met!" Noah realized. Or, to be clear, he thought he had realized.
"A hobby?" Ethan didn't quite get what Morgan was talking about at first.
"When we were in the winter garden, remember? You didn't answer what your hobbies were, but you said that you could introduce me to them one day."
"Oh…that hobby," Ethan's eyes darkened, and Noah understood in a split second that Thomson didn't mean shooting ranges. "I'm not really into firearms. Duncan started taking me here because it had to be done, not because I was fond of it. When you're constantly under the threat of being kidnapped, it can be quite handy to have some skills that could let you escape. However, I admit that it feels good to shoot sometimes. It eases your immune system down."
...and Ethan never said what his true hobby was.
There were around twenty well-lit firing lanes behind the thick door. Shooting booths were divided by glass walls. The furthest shooting lane was already taken by someone. There was no gun there, but an empty box of bullets was standing on the small desk near it.
"Apparently, Duncan has gone to the restroom. Jesus fucking Christ!" Thomson muttered, coming to the next free shooting booth.
"What's the problem? It's a natural thing," Noah smiled, not understanding why Ethan was so upset with this situation.
"His natural things last for forty minutes, at least. You can subvert a government with that much time," Thomson grunted, easily loading the Glock.
"I'm afraid to ask, but how do you know all that?" Noah asked, catching himself thinking that he was a bit jealous. Who was Duncan, and what kind of relationship did they have? Was he handsome? Was he mature and experienced? They had at least one mutual interest with Ethan… The overall picture didn't look positive.
"Once my father decided to attend a law conference, and I wanted to go with him. He agreed to take me on one condition: Duncan would go with us. He was supposed to be my bodyguard but turned out to be my babysitter. My father said we had to share one hotel room. And every single morning, he would go to the restroom for at least forty minutes. On the third day, I was on the verge of choking him to death with a pillow as soon as he would fall asleep."
"Well, I'm glad it didn't happen," Noah smiled, putting the safety goggles on, "I know what ear defenders are usually for. Gunshots can be deafening sometimes. But goggles…" Noah tapped on the thick protective plastic.
"So that your eyes won't get hurt by bullet casings," Ethan explained, "It would be nice to wear a baseball cap or something. If I knew about coming here in advance, I'd tell you about it."
Ethan took Noah's Beretta and loaded it as easily as he had loaded the Glock before.
"The same reason is why you would wear some closed shoes to the firing ranges. Or else you could leave this place with bruises or even burns from casings."
Ethan always wore clothes as if he was about to go to some shooting range.
"I noticed you're left-handed, right?" Noah nodded, feeling goosebumps on his back because of how casually Ethan said 'I noticed.' Besides, people didn't seem to notice Noah being left-handed before. "Which eye are you going to aim with?"
"Is there a difference?" Noah sounded surprised.
"Not a big one. However, everybody has a dominant eye as well as a dominant leg. There's also a dominant hand. In your case, it's the left one. A dominant leg is the one you'll choose to step on instinctively when falling. And there's a dominant eye, too."
"Which eye do you aim with?"
"The right one."
Noah tried listening to his feelings, closing one eye after another.
"I think I'll use the right one too."
Ethan nodded and started explaining to Noah how to hold a gun and where the safety lock was. So far, it didn't seem too difficult.
"Take it," Ethan handed Beretta, "Feel it sliding into your palm."
… Noah felt he was about to have a tic. There was nothing special about the phrase. Ethan was talking about the gun. The gun—damn imagination!
Noah took the pistol from Ethan's hand and was surprised at its weight. Movie characters always shot guns so casually, like they were holding light feathers. In reality, it was quite heavy.
"Hold the gun handle with your third, fourth, and fifth fingers. Don't put your index finger on the trigger yet. Hold it parallel to the barrel. Yeah, like that, good," while Ethan was explaining some basics, Noah thought that he could be a great instructor. "Put your right palm on the other side of the handle. It'll be extra support while shooting. No, not like that. Put it higher. Your index finger needs to press against the lower part of the trigger guard, and the big finger needs to be pointing straight, touching the other big finger."
Noah did everything Ethan said and was about to turn to Thomson for a demonstration, but he stopped him.
"Never point the gun at a person unless you want to shoot. Even if the safety's on."
"Oh, excuse me," Noah got embarrassed, though Ethan continued his instructions, showing that Morgan could think about his feelings later. Under Thomson's supervision, Noah spread his feet to the width of his shoulders, stretched his arms straight ahead, and bent his elbows a little. Thanks to movies, Noah knew how to aim, but Ethan still told him about the foresight and its location between the edges of the rare sight.
"You have to always remember about the recoil. Are you holding it tight?" Ethan asked. Noah nodded. Then Thomson covered the barrel with his hand and pressed on it, "Can you feel the pressure?"
"Yes."
"That's close to what you'll feel when you shoot, so hold the gun tight. I saw a guy once who had his wrist sprained because of a recoil. His firearm was bigger, though. However, it's important to keep it in mind. Are you ready?"
Noah nodded. Ethan pressed the button on the table in front of them. A hanging target flew closer to them and stopped a couple of feet away from Noah.
"Put the safety off and aim. Pay attention to the lock so that it won't hurt you."
Noah did as he was told. He aimed. He pulled the trigger. It was too tight.
"Harder. Don't be shy."
Noah exhaled. He aimed again and shot. Ear defenders suppressed the noise partly, though Noah thought it was still loud. Recoil hit his hand and shoulder. It felt…cool.
"Wow, almost bullseye," Ethan complimented Morgan, which made Noah melt with delight. The only sad thing was that Ethan, contrary to the promises of Ranbir, never touched him.
'Apparently, it's not a date,' Noah's internal voice reminded him.
Indeed, it wasn't.
Too bad.
Noah shot several times, and then Ethan switched him. He decided to stay in the same shooting lane as Morgan. He aimed at the same target. On the contrary from Noah, who thought he looked extremely tense and almost awkward while holding a gun, Ethan used his Glock like a person, whose daily routine included shooting after a morning shower. Noah felt that every move was sharp and calibrated after long practice, which made it look easy and natural. Ethan made several fast shots, one after another. Two bullets hit a nine, while three others – a ten. Noah applauded in childlike excitement.
"You didn't tell me you were coming to join me," a quiet male voice behind Noah's back made him shiver. There was a tall, broad-shouldered middle-aged man whose appearance probably made people stay away from him.
He is quite a brutal man.
"It was a spontaneous decision," Ethan answered, putting his Glock on the table near the target button that could adjust it for the shooter. Duncan smirked and looked at Noah.
"Nice to meet you, young man," he said, giving Morgan such a white-toothed smile that it made him feel uncomfortable.
"H-hello! I'm Noah," he rattled, flattening himself against the table unconsciously.
"I know," Duncan said, heading towards Morgan like a tsunami would head towards a tiny house by the seashore. However, the man didn't demolish him; he just extended his hand for a handshake. "Duncan," he introduced himself. Noah shook his hand silently, noticing his palm looked tiny compared to the palm of the bodyguard. "I didn't think you would bring your friend here so fast," the man told Ethan with such an intonation that only a fool wouldn't understand that Duncan had known about Noah for a long time, even more than Noah would've wanted him to know. Noah doubted that Ethan had given him any kind of information. Thomson didn't come off as a person who'd tell anything to anyone without a reason. Noah's presence in Thomson's life probably wasn't an important fact. Which means there was something else.
"We came here to ask you for a favor," Ethan said in a tone like he was on the verge of starting a fight with Duncan. His aggression was showing itself after every single word.
"I'm all ears!" Duncan answered, clearly not noticing Ethan's change of mood. Thomson briefly described the situation and forwarded him a message with the nickname they had.
"When can you find out the name of the person who created the chat?" Ethan seemed too stressed for some reason. Like if he was afraid that Duncan could say too much.
"In about a week."
"Why so long?"
"Because we're not in a movie," Duncan smirked, "What? Are you in a rush or something? I'm sure you'll find something to keep yourself busy. Or yourselves."
Ethan's eyes darkened with rage. Noah still couldn't understand what was wrong. They looked like they were discussing something else while having this dialogue.
"I need to talk to you for a second," Ethan said, "You can continue shooting. We'll be right back," he said to Noah, heading towards the exit. Duncan gave Noah another brilliant smile and followed Ethan. Noah grabbed a Beretha, aimed, and pulled the trigger.
5' 3"
"Duncan, are you fucking nuts?" Ethan hissed as soon as the door closed behind them.
"I don't understand what you are talking about," Duncan said, shaking his head and blinking innocently.
"Stop demeaning me!"
"God, I would never!" the bodyguard made a helpless gesture, "You know you could've just texted me, right? You didn't have to come here," he said, smiling. "Just admit that you wanted to show off. Like, look at me, how cool and handsome I'm with a gun in my hand!"
"Duncan, shut up!"
"You even took the Glock for yourself, and you know you shoot like a damn sharpshooter with it! I didn't know you had such an ego."
Ethan clenched his teeth angrily, but he didn't say anything back. At first, he inhaled so hard that his lungs hurt, and then he exhaled slowly, trying to find peace in his mind that could still burn to ashes in the next couple of minutes.
"Yes, I wanted to show off. So? I don't see the problem."
Duncan rolled his eyes, showing how absurd this situation was, in his opinion.
"The guy is head over heels for you already. I can see it clearly, even though I met him in person for the first time today. There's no need to show off. You're perfectly aware of that. I can't believe I'm telling you this, but... Haven't you thought about asking him out on a normal date? Well, you know, a movie with some popcorn, some stupid cafe with those marshmallow desserts, or an amusement park? Not a shooting range! Not a damn shooting range, Ethan!"
"It's not a date," Thomson said, frowning, "And he liked shooting."
"Almost ninety-five percent of people like shooting! These are damn guns! Who wouldn't want to imagine themselves as an action movie character, handling weapons like a God? Having a weapon is a way to boost your self-esteem and the feeling of safety. But we're not talking about that here!"
"Then about what?"
"About a normal date."
"Ranbir said they organize dates here," Ethan mumbled, not wanting to admit he wasn't right.
"NOT THE FIRST DATE!" Duncan yelled at Ethan and slapped his head a little, "Ranbir will tell you anything to make more money."
"If you do this one more time, I'll shoot you with the rest of the bullets!" Ethan hissed, touching the back of his head.
"Really? First of all, Ethan, you don't have the guts for that. Second of all, you love me too much," Duncan sang.
"Fuck you,"
"Okay," the bodyguard confirmed, "but what about you?"
"Nothing."
"What's the plan after the shooting?"
"There's no 'after'."
"Take him to some nice place."
"IT'S NOT A DATE!"
"Damn it!" Duncan cursed, "You're so stubborn! Have some mercy for you balls."
"What about my balls?"
"If balls turned radioactive with no sex, the Geiger counter would go crazy right now!"
"Soon, I'll be the one who goes crazy!" Ethan snapped back.
"That's also because you don't f…–
"Shut up," Thomson muttered, feeling his phone vibrating in his pocket. Another ad? Ethan would usually receive spam. Less frequently, his father could text him. Though recently Ethan's message history brightened up with Noah's texts. However, Thomson doubted Morgan would text him two minutes after he had left him in the shooting booth.
"Do you think this won't work out?" Thomson asked a question that he didn't want to ask while Noah was around.
"I don't know. Speaking from experience, it won't work. On the other hand, we're not playing against the mafia or gun and drug dealers. There's some shitty college student on the other end of the line. I could find him in my free time in a couple of days. A week – tops. But you just don't want to give me the green light."
"I asked Morgan, and he refused such big help."
"Why?"
"He's afraid that it could be someone from his close circle."
"What's the point? People usually accept facts. A stranger would never do something like that. Someone's trying to take revenge on your boy. You should think about it."
"What do you mean?" Ethan frowned.
"In order to piss someone off so much, you need to fuck up big time. What if your sweet boy isn't so sweet? What if he doesn't want my help because he has something to hide?"
"I also have something to hide. I also did bad things," Ethan said, after a couple of seconds of silence.
"Things you've done are only your problems now. His actions probably hurt someone else."
"I wasn't the only one who got hurt. My father. Audrey. Mother. I betrayed them all."
Faded pictures from the past appeared in his head again. A dark alley. Raindrops. And an ice-cold mix of mud and water under the knees.
"By the way, have you asked that girl how she got the money?" Duncan suddenly switched the topic, getting away from Ethan's triggers.
"No. I wanted to, but I was too angry during the conversation. Anyway, I don't think it could help. You need to be an idiot to transfer money online. She probably got cash."
"That's the thing. No, I don't think she saw the bully in person. Someone else must've left the money somewhere. However, the location of the stash could give us something."
Ehtan's phone buzzed again. Who was that?
"I'll try to find something about it," Ethan promised, even though he could hardly imagine the dialogue with the blonde girl for the second time. Thomson could probably snap again.
"Next time you torture someone by your presence, try keeping your rage to yourself so that you can ask key questions."
Usually, Ethan was calm in serious situations. He snapped only because that little shit was responsible for Morgan's condition.
"Okay, I'll go take a look around the store. Ranbir told me something about some new items that would make me thrilled," Duncan said, putting his hands into his pockets.
"You don't have to go; we'll finish and leave," Ethan said to Duncan's back, clearly understanding the real reason why he decided to go.
"Then finish in privacy," Duncan said, waggling his eyebrows to emphasize the hint.
"Do you know what you need to do?"
"Same old thing?"
"Exactly! Go fuck yourself!" Ethan said, trembling with anger. It was impossible how Duncan could sometimes play on his nerves! Unbelievable!
Ethan entered the shooting range silently and stayed by the door for some time, watching naive Morgan. Noah got used to the gun quickly. He took a long time to aim, but it was worth it. It seemed that Thomson played the wrong card when he thought he could charm Morgan by walking around with a gun in his hand. In reality, he was the one who was charmed.
The phone vibrated for the third time. Ethan looked at the screen and smirked in surprise. It was Hughes.
Rufus Hughes: "Hi."
Rufus Hughes: "I wanted to come clear about something, if you don't mind."
Rufus Hughes: "Do you really trust Morgan?"
Ethan Thomson: "Yes, I do."
Rufus Hughes: "Do you mean we've been blaming him for nothing for the past two years?"
'It is alive. And it can think!'
Ethan Thomson: "Yes, you have."
Rufus Hughes: "How can you be so sure?"
Ethan suddenly remembered Duncan's words about some nasty thing Noah had possibly done in the past. However, he met the charges with a flat denial again.
Ethan Thomson: "I've had enough time with Morgan to make some decisions about him. He's accused for no reason, and you could never prove it.
Rufus Hughes: "..."
Rufus Hughes: "Maybe you just have a crush on him?"
Ethan tapped the phone's screen with his finger thoughtfully.
Ethan Thomson: "Yes, you are right; I do have a crush on him."
There were two reasons why Thomson decided to confess. Firstly, even if Rufus wanted to tell Noah about it, Morgan would never believe him. It was pointless telling it to anyone around the campus, since the rumors about Noah and Ethan were way hotter than innocent gossip about their possible feelings for each other. Secondly, Thomson couldn't help but imagine Rufus' face when he saw that message.
"Oh, I didn't notice you were here!" Noah was about to wave at Ethan with a gun, but then he suddenly recollected himself and put the gun on the table. "Is everything okay?"
"Everything's fine," Ethan nodded, looking at the screen. Rufus was silent. There was nothing underneath his name, where you could usually see 'typing' during some high-pitched arguments. Hughes was still processing.
"Are you done?"
"I've used all the bullets, but I don't know how to load the gun."
Ethan reloaded the gun and, when Morgan continued shooting, got back to the dialogue with Rufus.
Rufus Hughes: "Is there anything I can help you with?"
Ethan couldn't believe his eyes, so he blinked and read the message again. Nothing changed. Ethan was about to say something acidic. However, Hughes could be useful.
Ethan Thomson: "Yes, you can," Ethan confirmed and explained what he needed from Rufus. When the message was sent, Ethan put the phone in his pocket and turned his attention towards Morgan. His Beretta was empty. But there was still the loaded Glock. Noah didn't miss the opportunity to shoot from it as well. Sure thing.
While Noah was shooting the targets, looking cute and funny at the same time, Ethan continued thinking about Duncan's words. No, not that Morgan's face was in the trough. He was thinking about the other thing Duncan had told him.
"I don't know why, but it feels more difficult to aim with this one," Noah mumbled.
"Beretta suits you more. I knew it right away."
"But how?!"
Ethan shrugged his shoulders, biting his lips nervously. Noah couldn't see it because of the mask, so he couldn't understand how difficult it was for Thomson to say the next sentence.
"You asked me about my true hobby. Do you want to see it?" Ethan tried to say it casually.
"Yes, of course!" Noah brightened up.
"I can show you, but I need to warn you that it's quite…hm…peculiar."
"I love everything peculiar!" Noah assured him.
Don't make promises you can't keep.
"We need to go to my house then."
Noah wasn't confused. Yet.
"How cool! I can see your room!"
Jesus, who cares about that? The most important thing for Ethan was the fact that there was a door that you could lock from the inside.
"Okay, then finish the load and let's go."
Noah had no idea how shocked he was about to be.