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Any version of Pete that Macau has tried to piece together over the last week is admittedly limited.
Referring to Pete as the main family’s bodyguard feels like a slippery thing—if only for the way Pete refused to list any other Theerapanyakul, other than Macau, under Vegas’s proxy form. Macau doesn’t care to press for clarification on the nature of patient confidentiality. If it keeps his uncle far away from Vegas’s sterile hospital room, then Macau’s willing to take it on face value.
Pete can’t be a friend of Vegas’s, because his brother doesn’t have those. Acquaintance is equally unlikely and somewhat laughable.
A spy? He knows there are plenty of people who work in espionage circles, especially for the major family. But, Macau toys with this label for exactly two days, before giving up on it.
Another man caught in Vegas’s game? Maybe. A fool? Most definitely.
Macau doesn’t ask Pete who he is. Macau doubts that Pete is even capable of giving him a straight answer.
So Macau settles on stranger. Because that’s what Pete is to him.
A listless, hollowed out figure, who has taken to flanking the walls of Vegas’s hospital room with a kind-of unassuming presence that—against all odds—doesn’t entirely unnerve Macau like he thought it would.
Evidently, even a shadow makes better company than no one at all.
It’s easy, Macau finds, to start making assumptions about Pete and run with them.
Pete hovers, and it reminds Macau a lot of an old Auntie who used to be in charge of ironing Macau’s clothes, before she was inevitably fired; as he grew up, staff turnovers in the minor family’s compound became as frequent as the changing seasons.
Macau’s finds something hidden in the nuances of Pete’s mannerisms—the way he moves like someone’s following him closely. There’s a certain stiffness to Pete’s every step, like he expects an invisible enemy waiting around the corner. Like he’s expecting an ambush.
He looks haunted.
It makes Macau uneasy, but he can’t bring himself to snap at Pete and force him to leave Vegas’s side. He suspects Pete wouldn’t listen to that directly anyway.
Sometimes it feels wrong, just to sit in silence and watch Vegas struggle to breathe—Vegas’s inhales rattle painfully, but he manages another, and another yet—barely conscious but still alive.
So Macau starts talking.
Pete doesn't have much to say at first, so Macau fills their silences with meaningless chatter about whatever comes to mind. Sometimes it helps, sometimes it doesn't. Mostly, it’s a good distraction.
Pete listens quietly, curling against the side of the hospital chair that leans him closest to Vegas, while Macau trudges on with his one-sided conversation. Curiously, Pete’s gaze remains unfocused, lost somewhere in the confines of Vegas’s hospital room.
It might be easier, Macau thinks, if he could figure out what it is exactly that Pete wants.
“You know, you don’t actually need to come here so often.”
When Pete sharply startles at Macau’s voice, Macau almost feels bad.
Almost, but not quite. It takes a great deal of effort, and probably not enough caffeine in the morning, to get Macau past his own personal limit of tolerance.
Pete blinks back at him slowly and then smiles—a wry, fragile thing that twists his mouth strangely into something unfamiliar.
"I know," says Pete eventually, and Macau thinks there's maybe some kind of apology in those words.
Macau isn't sure he understands why Pete is apologizing.
"But," adds Pete after a moment, "if you don't mind, I'd like to stay awhile."
This part still surprises Macau: the casualness of talking to the former head bodyguard of the main family, as if they’re friends. As if Macau hasn’t spent the last week sneering over at Pete whenever it seems like Pete’s far too engrossed in monitoring Vegas’s steadily screening vitals.
My brother is using you, Macau wants to say, as a mercy to Pete. Or maybe he wants to yell—to force Pete to understand that Vegas isn’t someone who waits on anyone, so Pete shouldn’t either.
You’ll always be the enemy, Macau thinks to spit at Pete, so why are you tangled up with us?
“Do whatever you want,” replies Macau instead.