#i have enough time to eat one side before it dampens my edible later

[thestarmaker]

There's a chicken dinner in the fridge I wonder what sides it has

[din-skywalker]

Fate Meeting

Hey look! I finally wrote Kratos and Faye meeting! I'd been meeting to write this sooner, but I finally decided how I wanted this to go.

So please let me know how I wrote both Kratos and Faye, because I'm a bit nervous to post this!

Enjoy:

Kratos does not know these lands.

He had spent his entire life in both Sparta and Greece, and some of it in Olympus. He had never set foot outside of these countries, let alone travel so far North as he has.

He had decided not long after finishing his rampage in Greece that he would head North and continue North until he found himself far enough from his home. As he had travelled, the air around him had slowly changed from warm to cool to freezing, and now he is walking through thick patches of snow in the middle of a forest, the wind howling around him. He can hear the crashing of waves on a beach nearby, smell the salt in the air. He had left his boat to continue onwards by foot.

Now, hungry, he is crouched behind a bush, eyes locked onto a herd of deer. He places his burden in the snow beside him and makes sure the bandages around his wrist are still tight. Then, he singles out the deer he would be trying to catch. He’d have to get in close to them to try and strangle the deer- not his prefered style of hunting, but the only option available currently due to his lack of weapons. He’d have to find a weaponsmith at some point. Maybe try and build his own sword or bow.

He’s about to leap out at his choice of deer- a large stag with an impressive set of antlers which he could possibly use as temporary weapons- when the whistle of an arrow shooting through the air catches his attention. A second later and the arrow he had heard is piercing his shoulder, unbalancing him because of his shock. He would have fallen over if he had not grabbed a nearby branch to steady himself, looking at the arrow sticking from his flesh.

And then there's a nearby gasp- obviously human- and the deer are all darting away and out of sight. Kratos growls softly, reaching up and grabbing the arrow, about to yank it out, when a deep, feminine voice shouts, “Stop!” He stops on instinct, looking to his right as a tall, broad shouldered woman steps out from the trees, a bow hanging around her shoulders and an impressive axe sheathed at her side. As she approaches, Kratos can see that she is taller than himself, which he is not used to. Maybe this land just had really tall women such as this one. “Are you a fool? Leave that there!”

Before Kratos can protest, say something or do anything, the woman is grabbing his hand and tugging at him. At his glare she scoffs. “Come now. I am not leaving you after I shot you,” she stated, leaving no room for argument. And it's strange because Kratos lets her pull him after her, even forgetting to grab his burden.

He looks her over as she leads him along a path dusted with snow.

Her hair is the color of dying embers, cascading down her neck and around her shoulders like a waterfall. Her skin is tanned despite living in an area so cold as this, and her eyes, he notices as she looks back to him, are a stunning blue. Her face is speckled with freckles and Kratos can't help but admire this woman who is taller than him. This woman who had just shot him with a bow and arrow who he is now letting drag him along.

He probably wouldn't have gone with anyone else. But something about this unknown woman lets him feel as though he can trust her just like that. Something about her screams trustworthiness and he goes along with it without a word. Besides, he doesn't think she would have let him decline her offer of help even if he had tried.

“I'm Faye,” the woman said suddenly, disrupting his thoughts as they come up to a small cabin tucked away among a clearing of trees. She's looking at him again with those stunning eyes and he suddenly can't look away.

“My name…” he ponders for a moment if he should tell her. He's surprised he's even pondering it. Perhaps he could go by a different name… but even as that thought crosses his mind he brushes it off as ridiculous. Just because he is in a new land trying to start a new life does not mean he can simply forget his old life. “My name is Kratos.”

And as soon as he says his name the woman’s eyes flash with something similar to recognition, but the look quickly disappears even as her eyes widen. She looks shocked now and her mouth parts only a little before she steels herself and pushes her door open, dragging him inside.

“Well, Kratos,” she says and it's almost as though she is testing his name out on her tongue. He is not sure of what to make of this, but he does not comment. Does not try to leave, even if he would with any other. She guides him to a chair situated beside a fire pit- a single bed is beside it, covered in fur blankets- and pushes him into it, hurrying to the other side of the house for a moment. “I am terribly sorry for shooting you. You looked similar to a deer.”

Kratos snorts as she returns holding scraps of cloth and a small bowl. She then crouches beside him to better see his shoulder. “A man is a deer now, then?” he inquired of her and she rolls her eyes at him.

“All I saw was the fur of your armor,” she informed him, dabbing a small, damp cloth around the area where the arrow meets flesh. The liquid that dampens Kratos’s skin is cool and soothing and actually helps the dull ache that has been annoying him the past few minutes. “Now be quiet. I could just leave that arrow there.”

“Indeed you could,” Kratos murmurs, mulling this over because yes, she could and most people would have. The people Kratos has known in his past weren't always the most… empathetic or apologetic of sorts. Yet this woman who he shot him when he obviously had gotten in the way of her hunt was cleaning the wound she had left because of his mistake. It was astonishing to him, even if the favor was small.

A minute passes of comfortable silence and Kratos is shocked to feel so at ease and relaxed around this woman. He should be tensed and ready to spring into action at any moment, yet as the woman continues to dab at his shoulder with large, warm hands, he finds himself easing back into the chair, waiting patiently for her to finish, burden forgotten.

“I'm about to pull the arrow out,” she informs him, setting the bowl down on the floor beside her. Kratos nods and straightens back up to prepare himself. “So, Kratos, what are you doing around these woods? Not many visit here.”

“I am simply passing through,” Kratos replies, watching warily as her hands situate themselves on either side of the arrow. “I will be leaving again once I have finished hunting.”

“Ah, I see,” Faye said with a hum, fingers of one hand wrapping around the shaft of the arrow while the palm of her other presses on his shoulder. “This may hurt.”

“Hardly,” Kratos stated and then she's ripping the arrow from his shoulder. The arrow snaps out with a wet squelch and a loud tear and the dull aching that had been annoying Kratos turns to a burning sensation as cool air hits his exposed flesh.

Faye throws the arrow aside and grabs the bowl once more, this time placing the dampened cloth over Kratos’s shoulder. The liquid instantly begins to make his shoulder burn less and he watches as she grabs more cloths, wrapping them tightly around the damp cloth and his shoulder, ending at his elbow. She ties the two ends tightly and then pats his back, standing.

“That ought to do it,” she announced, allowing him to stand. “Are you still hungry?”

Kratos, already sensing her offer for him to stay, begins to decline, “It is alright. I can hunt my own-”

But she interrupts him, and he doesn't stop her or fight to continue speaking, “Let me make you dinner. I did just shoot you after all. It's not problem, really.”

And Kratos finds himself agreeing despite his better thinking. She smiles at him and moves to the fire pit, throwing in a few logs to feed the small flames already there. She then walks outside and Kratos follows her, curious as to what she is doing and if he could help her in anyway. She says nothing as she bends down in front of a tree and begins to dig into the snow and dirt just in between its roots. He watches, curious as to what it is she is doing.

A minute later and Faye pulls out a bundle of cloths form the earth, standing and leading Kratos back inside. She unwraps the cloths and crouches by the fire pit once more, and Kratos can now see that meat was in the cloth. She must have buried the meat to keep it cool and well… this idea partly impresses him.

“The cold earth keeps it edible,” Faye informs, confirming his thoughts. He nods, noting the idea for later for himself. “Now sit back down. You are still wounded.”

“I am fine,” Kratos said in return.

“And I don't care,” Faye said, pointing to the nearby chair. “Sit. I can handle this.”

Kratos sighs but sits down anyway, watching her cook from the chair. She moves around the house with a grace Kratos has to appreciate, her hair flowing around her like waves of an amber ocean. She smiles when their eyes meet at one point and she drizzles a handful of seasoning into the pot she was currently cooking in.

Kratos actually smiles in return. It's small, and probably hardly noticeable, but it's there.

It doesn't take long for Faye to finish cooking. When she does, she pours a small amount of food into a small bowl and passes it to Kratos. “Be careful. It is still hot,” she said softly and walks back to the door. She only know pulls the axe from its sheath at her side, lifting it easily and Kratos can see the muscles in her arms flexing with its weight. Yet she places it on a hook beside the door with ease, continuing to move with that smooth grace.

As she turns back he begins to eat, fully expecting her to grab her own bowl. Instead, she walks to a nearby table and pulls a chair closer to his, taking a seat beside him, crossing one leg over the other. And she just, watches him. She seems to have a curious sparkle in her eye that only gleams brighter when they meet one another’s gaze.

Kratos can feel… something between them. But he doesn't know what to call. Doesn't want to call yet that. Even if it so obviously there.

He's not sure if he's ready for that yet. Air if he ever will be again.

“So you were hunting without a weapon?” Faye inquires suddenly, breaking the silence that had fallen over them as they studied one another. “It is dangerous to walk these wilds without defense, I should let you know. You do seem to be… an outlander.”

“I do not yet have a weapon,” Kratos replies, placing the bowl on the floor beside him. Faye reaches down and refills it, holding it back to him. And, he takes it, still quite hungry. “I was going to search for a weaponsmith once I found civilization.”

Faye hums at his answer, brushing a strand of ember from her face. “There are not many settlements in this area,” she informs him. “The Great Flood wiped out most settlements around the Lake of Nine a hundred winters ago.”

“And none have returned?” Kratos said, honestly surprised. Normally, where's there's land, there are people. They have a tendency to spread after all.

“It was a terrible flooding,” Faye replied.

Silence falls over them again, the fire cracking and the wind blowing outside filling the quiet. Kratos finishes his second bowl and stops Faye from grabbing it to refill it. “I have had enough, but thank you,” he said, standing from the chair. He doesn't honestly want to leave yet, but he knows he shouldn’t over stay. Even if this woman was kind. “I should be taking my leave now.”

“You do not have to,” Faye protested, standing as well as Kratos walks towards the door. “The nights here get cold. You could stay until morning.”

“No. You have helped me enough,” Kratos said, pushing the door open and stepping outside. “But I will not forget this kindness, know that.”

She follows him outside, to the edge of her yard. “Feel free to visit any time,” she says to him, her deep voice following him.

He pauses to look back at her, giving her a curt nod. And then he turns and walks down a well trodden path, intent on collecting his burden once more.

He would be back to see her.

---

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[motherpsyduck]

House Guest

Chapter 5: Innocent Prying

You pull yourself up the stairs of the De Santa house with your hand on the banister and retreat to the bed they kindly provided you. You push the decorative pillows off so they gently fall onto the floor on the other side of the large double bed and pull the soft but heavy sheets away. You slide your tired legs out your jeans and crawl your body underneath the covers. Your head sinks into the squashiest pillows you’ve ever felt and you drift off to a deep sleep almost immediately.

You’re in the De Santa’s bubbling hot tub. The steam is clearing and you notice Michael is sitting across from you. Both his elbows are resting up on the side of the hot tub. His chest is bare. He’s wearing lilac tinted aviator sunglasses. The beaming sunlight bounces off them and the ripples of the water. You’re very confused and look around for an explanation and catch the sight of yourself; you’re wearing a bikini and suddenly feel very exposed. You look back up at Michael. He’s removed his sunglasses and the sunlight is illuminating his sky blue eyes. They’re almost hypnotising you. You watch Michael take a long drag from his thick cigar that was resting in a glass ash tray not far from his reach. He blows out and upward. You try to speak but you can’t find your words so you just watch the smoke fade away.

You blink and as your eyes are closed you can still distinguish the smell of the cigar, but this time it’s in your mouth. You open your eyes and pull away to see Michael’s face beneath you. You watch him slowly open his glistening eyes. He wets his lips with his tongue still trying to taste your kiss.

“You’re beautiful baby.” Michael whispers. You’re heart is racing as you hear the words. Your thighs are separated and your knees and calves lay either side of Michael on the seat of the hot tub. You don’t have time to react as Michael leaves gentle kisses in your cleavage. You breathe a moan as his lips make their way to your neck and his hands open on your lower back. You feel yourself grinding on Michael’s swimming trunks submerged in the water. His penis is hardening from your movement. His hands feel their way around to the back of your bikini top.

The soaked material of your bikini top gently falls onto the water. Michael’s large hand grabs one of your breasts making you gasp with pleasure and buries his face into your cleavage. He stands still kissing your chest and your bare legs instinctively wrap around his waist. He places you to sit on the hot tub seat in front of him. You look up at him with hot, pursed lips and a raised brow waiting for his words. Michael stares at you expressionless with his large eyes and slightly breathless.

Your vision blurs and now you’re facing the glass dining room doors of the De Santa house. You’re kneeling on the seat in the hot tub with your forearms propping yourself up on the slab tiles of the patio. You scour beyond the dining table and hope that no one else is home. The bubbles give you a nice sensation in between your legs as you kneel at this angle.

Michael gently pulls each of the bows that tied the strings of the bottoms of your bikini. Your head snaps back at his unexpected touch. You watch him slide his thick fingers in the middle of your cheeks and grips his hand into a fist to rip the material from your skin. You feel the bottoms float from under you. Your breathing quickens as you’re presenting yourself entirely to Michael.

You can feel your heartbeat in your ears. Michael makes a small grunt as he slides his solid, sensitive shaft out from his trunks and guides it toward your opening. You look back through the glass doors to check again for any sign of Michael’s family. He’s teasing you as you feel him in between your legs. You exhale a whine as he pushes himself harshly inside you.

Michael grips at the flesh above your buttocks forcefully as he’s thrusting. You feel the water sloshing as your breasts are slapping the side of the hot tub. Your eyes roll back as you hear Michael grunting as he jerks himself in and out of you. You can’t help but let out moans but bite down on your fist to try and muffle them. Your other hand has found its way down there too and gently massages your sweet spot.

He’s quickening and you feel yourself getting wetter and it’s not due to the water that surrounds you. Michael’s groin pounds you from behind rougher and deeper, you hear him straining from the pleasure. His noises send a shiver down your arched spine. His hands slide up and rest themselves on your chest and you roll your head and shift your body back into him.

You let out high, panted moans and clench your jaw as you take in air. You’re practically sitting on Michael in the water as your lids shield your eyes from the scorching, midday sunshine. He’s pushing himself up into you hard, over and over. Your back and his chest are rubbing against one another as you feel the heat warming your face. You feel his stubble from his open jaw scratch your face. You feel his short, heavy breaths on your skin. You’re in complete ecstasy.

-

You peel your eyelids open to a dampened sound at the bottom of the bed. You lift the front of your face buried in the pillow and try to focus your vision. Darkness is all you see out of the bedroom window. You pull the chain of the bedside table lamp and squint at the clothing draped over the raised wood bed frame at the bottom of the bed. You pull yourself up and search the pockets. It’s your phone. You have an unread text message from Tracey. It reads:

“I’m at class. Guess you’re not coming. Will probs be about 1 hour. Mom’s gone shopping & Jim rode with her into the city. You might be alone when you wake up or my dad might be home. Anyway see you later! *face blowing a kiss emoji*”

For the moment you’ve forgotten about the dream and decide to unpack your suitcase. You’re able to hang a lot of items in the large, dark coloured wardrobe and then place your underwear in the wide, top drawer of the chest of drawers. You notice your swimsuit mixed in with the clothes and stare at it. Flashes of your dream are coming back to you and now you wish you hadn’t looked. After your brain wakes up enough, you connect the images you just woke up from experiencing, and the possibility of definitely crossing paths with Michael in his own home makes your cheeks redden.

To try and distract yourself you begin to arrange your beauty items on the top of the chest of drawers and glance at yourself in the huge mirror that hung on the wall. You laugh at your crazy bed hair and run your brush through it to flatten it somewhat. It does the job. You throw on your comfy sweats and slip your phone into the large pocket of your hoodie.

You brace yourself before exiting your bedroom and try to block out the scenes from your dream that keep replaying in your mind’s eye. You creep down the stairs and poke your head around to scan the living room. Damn. You spot Michael sitting on the sofa eating chips. He senses your presence and turns, he leaves the bowl and wipes his mouth with his hand and then his hands on his trousers, before approaching you. He’s wearing a casual polo shirt jeans and sneakers.

“Oh good! You’re up!” Michael looks up at you. You can’t run now so you turn and come back down the stairs and nod politely. “You hungry? I’m not much of a cook so you wanna order take-out? My treat.” You look everywhere else but into Michael’s bluer than blue eyes. Even thinking about looking in his eyes is reminding you of the images from your dream. Michael notices your body language. “...You ok?”

“Yeah I’m fine.” You reply shortly whilst rubbing your arm, and then you scratch the back of your head and think of an excuse. “I-uh- I’m not that hungry...” You still don’t look him in the eye.

“You’ve been catching up with your beauty sleep for a good... five hours Y/N.” Try as you might but you feel the urge to turn and make eye contact with Michael when he says your name. He raises his brow. “You must be hungry. I doubt Trevor fed you anything... edible.”

“No, I didn’t eat anything with Trevor.”

“Then we’ll get some good, wholesome, calorific take-out down you. It’ll make you feel better.” It’s nice to experience Michael in a good mood. He walks away to the kitchen to find the take-out menus. You follow him slowly and watch him route through the drawers. “It’ll bring some colour back into your face y’know.” You assume you look paler than usual.

When Michael finally finds the menu he sprawls it out on the kitchen counter and invites you to choose your meal. You read the list of meals and feel nauseous from the thought but your stomach growls for any sort of sustenance.

“Just order me whatever you’re having.” You say rubbing your forehead.

“You sure?” Michael looks up at you whilst dialling the take-out number into his phone.

“Yep.” You’re still wary about making too much eye contact with Michael, like he’s going to tell what you’re thinking. You’re thinking about that dream.

“Ok. I’ll order it, go watch something on tv. I won’t be long.” Michael holds his phone up to his ear and you hear the call being connected as you enter the living room. You sit next to where Michael was sat and lift your legs up to cross them beneath you. You’re out of sight of the dining room doors but you’re still reminded that they’re there and beyond that is the hot tub.

You thumb the remote and try to find something decent to watch. You sigh. Nothing worth watching. You pull your phone out and decide to reply to Tracey:

“No. Not coming to class. Not feeling so great. Just woke up. Your dad is home, we’re having take-out.* smiling face with sunglasses emoji* See you later.”

You press send and Michael appears in the living room.

“Trevor’s not texting you is he? Trying to arrange another crazy night on the town?”

You laugh and shake your head. “No, I was replying to Tracey. She’s in class; she says she’ll be about an hour, just in case I was wondering where she’s gone.”

“Oh.” Michael sits a comfortable distance away from you on the long white sofa. The two of you sit in an awkward silence. You slide Michael the remote as you’ve found nothing you want to watch. You don’t know Michael all that well and are unsure what to talk about; he feels the same as he flicks aimlessly through the channels.

“How long did they say the take-out will be?” You hate small talk but it’s all you have at this moment.

“About thirty to thirty five minutes, not including traffic.” Michael replies then nods. He’s still flicking through channels. You nod as a reply and decide to study the interior of the living room again. Anything to take your mind off how painful this interaction is. You notice their whole house is rather expensive looking and you begin to wonder what Michael or Amanda do to be able to afford a home like this.

“So Mr De Santa-” You’re cut off by a raised hand from Michael.

“-Michael.” He turns to face you as you speak. He’s intrigued by your curiosity and lowers his hand holding the tv remote and rests it on the couch.

“Sorry, Michael. So what do you and M-Amanda do? Your home is beautiful.”

“I... uh... make movies.” Michael says unconvincingly.

“Oh cool. Any I’ve heard of?” You’re genuinely interested and thankful you’ve found a subject that can carry a conversation.

“I happen to be the executive-producer of a little movie called Meltdown.” Michael is wearing a smug look on his face and watches your reaction from the corner of his eye.

“Oh I think I’ve heard of that film! I’ve never seen it but I’ve heard a lot of people say they either love it or hate it.”

“Yeah it had mixed reviews, but it did well.” Michael shrugged trying to hide his large amount of pride.

“Oh good! So you’re like a Vinewood bigshot producer then, that’s how you can afford this place?”

“Something like that...” Michael’s face drops and he loses his eye contact with you. Another question springs to your mind.

“How did you and Trevor end up being friends then? The two of you seem so different and I can’t see him being in the movie business, so you can’t’ve met there.”

“Me and Trevor got complicated fucking history.” You frown your brow at Michael’s sudden change in mood and inability to elaborate. You were enjoying the conversation so decide to pry.

“So he’s like an old friend or something?”

“We used to... work together.” Michael’s hand is back on the remote, searching for a program to watch. You haven’t picked up on his mild frustration from your innocent questioning.

“What! So Trevor did used to do movies? I can’t see him being controlled like that” You had a surprised smile on your face. You never entertained the idea of Trevor being an actor or having anything to do with the movie business.

“No. Trevor’s never had anything to do with movies. It was my old job, before this.”

“What was that?” You’re beginning to annoy Michael with question after question. You’re not aware of this and honestly just want to get to know him better.

“WHY DO YOU WANT TO KNOW?!” Michael snapped. You’re hurt and just stare into his eyes. You don’t say a word. He didn’t mean to raise his voice. He can’t quite control his temper and you asked too many questions.

“Sorry” You say with some attitude. “I was just making conversation. I didn’t want to just sit here in complete silence.”

“You don’t need to know anything else.” Michael hissed. He settles on a program and places the remote on the sofa next to him.

“Ok. I was just interested, that’s all. I won’t bother next time. Jesus!” You sigh like a stroppy teenager. The silence hangs in the air again. Michael feels guilty but is too stubborn to admit it and apologise just yet. You glare at the screen of your phone to avoid talking to Michael. You scroll through your social media sites to try and calm yourself down a bit.

Just then, your phone vibrates. It’s a text message from an unknown number. You open it and quickly learn the message is from Franklin:

“’Ey Y/N. L says you a real homie for helpin us with them Ballas. We cool. T got you home to M’s house ok? – Frank”

You send a reply to Franklin:

“Yeah, I’m fine back at Michael’s house. What so Lamar can’t tell me himself? Tell him to say hello to Chop for me! It might be easier to just give him my number if he wants to talk. Btw how did you get my number?”

“T gave me it. Thought you knew.”

You read the text message from Franklin and try to remember giving your phone number to Trevor. You don’t. You assume Trevor took your phone number without asking or you might have given it to him in the chunk of time your memory struggles recalling.

After adding Franklin as a contact in your phone, you search for a sign of Trevor on your smart phone. Sure enough you spot a contact listed as ‘Sexy Uncle Trevor’. You shake your head with amusement and change the contact name to just ‘Trevor’.

“You ask a lot of questions.” Michael finally plucked up the courage to break the silence. You’d forgotten he was still sitting next to you. You acted uninterested and continued looking at your phone. You waited a few minutes before replying. “... Y/N?”

“Hmm?”

“Sorry for shouting. You ask a lot of questions.” Michael exhaled a small uncomfortable laugh. He was trying to lighten the atmosphere but you weren’t biting. You haven’t looked up from your phone.

“Yeah, that usually happens when you try to get to know someone better. You want to learn stuff about them.”

“I know. Hey, look I’m sorry.” Michael touched your knee so you’d look up from your phone and you did. You saw the sincerity in his baby blue eyes. You do a small sigh as you admire the colour of Michael’s eyes then snap yourself out of it.

“It’s fine.” You say with a convincing smile. Michael gives you one back and nods then removes his hand from your knee. He gets up and walks into the kitchen.

“I’m having a drink. You want one?” He shouts to you.

“What kind of drink?” You shout a reply back.

“A bourbon.”

“Alright, yeah thanks.” You hear opening of cabinet doors and clinking of glasses, and then soon enough Michael is returning to the living room.

Michael’s carrying two short glass cups in one hand and a bottle of whiskey in another. He sits, unscrews the lid of the bottle and pours the yellowish-brown liquid into the glass he’s handed to you, and then does the same for himself. He reapplies the lid and places the bottle on the floor by his feet then motions a clinking of glasses without touching your glass. He downs his glass in one go. He exhales enjoying the taste.

Your stomach isn’t as brave as Michael’s and you decide to take small mouthfuls instead. The whiskey tastes much better than the one Trevor had at his strip club. From what little you can remember anyway. You assume the one Michael buys is high end, expensive stuff.

“Thanks. It’s nice.” You set the glass down on a coaster on a small table next to the sofa.

“You a huge bourbon drinker?” Michael is pouring himself another drink.

“Not really. I’ve had it once before.” You’re referring to the night you got wasted with Trevor.

“Do you remember what it was called?” Michael was trying to start up another conversation.

“Nope.” You answered honestly.

“Alright then.” Michael laughed. You watched him hunch himself over whilst sitting. He’s leaning his elbows on his thighs and staring at the floor of the living room. You hear him rub at his stubble with the back of his hand that held his glass. “Look, Y/N. You seem like a level headed kid,” You waited for Michael to continue but he holds back.

“... what?” You say impatiently.

“I may as well tell you because you’ll probably end up hearing it from Trevor anyway. And trust me his version will be all kinds of crazy.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You want to know what I used to do for a job...” Michael pours another glass of bourbon. “I robbed banks.” It disappears down his throat.

“You and Trevor were bank robbers?” You ask doubtingly. You had to repeat Michael’s words in case you heard it wrong. You didn’t believe him.

“Yeah I’m a great thief.” He nods still not looking at you.

“You are a great thief? I thought you said this was your old job?”

“It was-look it doesn’t matter.” Michael finally looks you in the face. “That’s how I was able to get this fancy fucking house in Rockford Hills. Y/N I’m trailer trash not some bigshot Vinewood producer. I’m full of shit.” After hearing Michael’s words you let them sink in and you tried your best to process this new information.

“Right, so you and Trevor stole to make a living?”

“Yeah pretty much.”

“How did you end up here then and Trevor end up living in a strip club?” You were so confused and tried your best to make sense of it all.

“He doesn’t live there. At least not all the time, he’s got some shitty trailer in Blaine County. It’s a few hours north of the city. It’s quite the redneck country.”

“Oh, ok.”

“So now you know.” Michael sits back into the couch and sighs at ease for sharing his past and getting it off his chest.

“Yeah” You go over the new information in your head. Michael slipped up earlier and said he is a great thief. Is. Your mind wonders and you’re reminded about something from your local tv news channel back home not too long ago; you vaguely recall something about a robbery involving the Los Santos Union Depository. You laugh to yourself imagining if they were responsible. You dwelled longer on the idea before changing your mind. No... they can’t be involved... can they? That story was huge. Infamous. Every news organisation was covering that story. Every piece of media had their own speculations and suspicions but the identity of the thieves never surfaced.

After digesting this new information Michael gave to you, you build up enough courage to ask if he or Trevor had anything to do with the LS Union Depository job that was on the news not long back. Just as you’re about to utter a word from your lips the front doorbell rings instead.

“That must be the take-out.” Michael announced. He stood and walked to the hallway. You notice his heavy shoulders again. - [<-CH4] [CH6->] [<-CH1]