Luke groaned - loudly. What the real hell? The large, brown man's hand went to his face and he held his palm over his mouth for a few moments as he let the gravity of Victor Creed's presence sink in. That guy...
He rolled his eyes. One on one? Sure, Luke could take him. But between skirmishes, that prick was one of the most pot-stirring, turncoat, creepy sons-of-bitches from the last century. Literally. To help lighten the mood, the large Samoan clapped his winged partner on the back and shrugged. "What did you have to look forward to, really?" He grinned like the ass he was, then leaned forward on the railing of the fire escape with both hands and put his thinking beanie on. What? It was cold.
"Creed pushing X? Sounds like some True Blood shit to me." Another groan. What would be in it for Sabretooth, other than money? Of course, he'd be more than willing to do something that shady just for money, but Luke had a sneaking suspicion that things weren't that cut-and-dry. "C'mon, let's get you to a carwash. That," he thumbed to the window behind them, "smell is all over you." He didn't wait for Warren before he began descending the narrow staircase, making the metal creak and moan under his massive form. "And what kinda 'good cop' uses a knife, man?" He laughed. It was one of Warren's calling cards, though. Whatever got the job done.