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    Summary

    "you're not hallucinating," porsche says, dragging him to his feet, "i'm helping you, and you're gonna tell," he says, huffing, even though he's strong enough to handle the weight, the perks of being a lab experiment, "all of your mafia friends, so that i don't end up swimming with the fishes at the bottom of the river."

    he's not rewarded with a response; he chances a look over and realizes that whoever this man is, he's passed out, probably from the giant wound on his side, so porsche rolls his eyes and pulls his cracked, plastic phone out of his pocket, shooting off a text to jom, leaving early, emergency came up.

    he's just glad he wasn't at the club tonight, because he can't imagine how this would have ended without him.

    Series
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