Who: Hector and Johnny What: Moving in and general reminiscing. And drinking. Lots of drinking. When: Within 20 minutes of this Where: Bathos 805 Warnings: Drinking, maybe some guns. And Johnny is on crack (but not the illegal kind).
It was less than twenty minutes before Hector showed up at Bathos, single tattered duffel that contained all his belongings slung over his shoulder. With a casual glance over the building, committing it to memory with the precise accuracy that came from years of practice (eight floors total, well maintained, fire escapes accessible from the ground floor with minimal effort) he buzzed his way in, tipping his hat to the man in the office before heading for the elevator. He tested the weight of his bag, nodding as it met his approval (it was a longstanding habit; he knew everything was in there, rifle included, had checked it three times before heading over to make sure everything was secure, but even so. Habits were habits, even if he wasn't in the game anymore) before relaxing for the rest of the trip.
A short rap on the apartment door, and he took a step back to wait. Johnny Jacobs. Well there was a man he hadn't expected to see again. Not that he was complaining; a friendly face was definitely something he could use these days.