Silas rolled his eyes. He couldn’t help it. Two guys playing Bad Cop, one wanted to listen to his excuse and the other didn’t. Made it really fucking hard to choose whether to talk or to just shut the fuck up. He doubted O’Brien would listen to his story, either.
He took an involuntary step back when the kid advanced on him with the bat, the movement causing him to step down awkwardly with the foot of his injured leg. He clenched his teeth, put apart from using his hands to support himself against the wall, he made no other attempt to move. There was nowhere to go, anyway, even if he’d been able to run.
“Oh yeah? And how the fuck am I supposed to get a body from one place to another? Already hobblin’ on one damn leg…” It didn’t matter what he said, though. They’d already made their decision about him.
Zimmerman wasn’t going to shoot him. That was one relief. He was even calling Luke off and making an attempt to keep the dog from attacking him. No, it didn’t mean they believed him, nor did it mean they were letting him go, but at the very least, Zimmerman was staving off dealing out punishment in his own way.
Habitually, Silas massaged feeling back into his leg, breathing a laugh in spite of the circumstances. Once a criminal, always a criminal. His cellmate once said that to him. Silas hadn’t believed it then, but he was beginning to now.
“Fine by me.” Let O’Brien handle the situation. Maybe he’d be fairer than these two. “You just keep your hold on that leash and let the girl keep her boyfriend from beating my face in. I ain’t goin’ anywhere.”