Len didn't think he'd actually do it. Now that they're face to face, everything feels... different.

Behind the mask, Kabal looks nothing like Chronos or Mick. As different as they are the same. You're supposed to feel safer with the devil you know.

Len doesn't know what he feels anymore. He'd blame it on booze, but out of the two of them? He's the sober one. Suddenly, being three sheets to the wind sounds a hell of a lot more appealing.

Kabal kept his word, now it's on Len to keep his. He can't walk away the bigger man if he bitches out. Thieves honour, and all that bullshit. Even the most crooked of criminals has a code.

Silence. Watching Kabal's chest heave, breathing laboured. This is uncomfortable for both of them. Somehow, that helps. At least he isn't the only asshole with a chink in his armor.

His fingers clench into the elbows of his jacket, eyes staying on Kabal's eyes, unblinking, until he finally opens his mouth to speak.

"We came together." Quiet. Hoarse. Through gritted teeth. He'll personally murder anyone dumb enough to eavesdrop. This is between them, and no one else.

"You ditched me. For them."