Disjoint, meanwhile, was black, with a ‘blindfold’ band of white across his eyes, a mask at the bottom half of his face, meeting with the line of white facepaint. More bands encircled his arms, not touching the spaces which were decorated with tattoos. He wore a costume top, and regular black jeans. His coat had been removed by Spright and Shortcut before we’d come, and it had the same lines painted on the sleeves.

“I’m saying everyone counts when it comes to getting credit. Because rep matters,” Shortcut added. “Stupid fucking kids join them because they have the rep and we don’t. Because they seem ‘cool’.”

“Damn fucking straight,” Sidepiece commented. “I’d tell you to fuck yourself too, but you already did, wearing that fucking awful, uncooool costume.”

She drew out the word, with vocal fry amped up and it sounded like she was belching it.

Leaning against the wall, her arms folded, Swansong looked away to hide her smile. Despite herself, Sidepiece smirked. She corrected the smirk and spat onto the floor.

“This costume is focus group tested, moron,” Shortcut said. He reached up and flicked one of the circular discs that seemed to intersect his costume, like Halloween knife-headband combination that kids could pay a dollar for, to make it look like the knife was stuck through their heads.

“So were the Jeep Rockaybe, the Roundphone, and the second Iron Giant movie, so good for you, you’re in shit company,” Sidepiece retorted.

“You’re not going to win this one,” Swansong said. “Not if you get into a knock-down, drag-out back and forth. You’ll lose.”

“I agree,” Spright said.

“Fuck that,” Shortcut answered.

“I will kick over this chessboard, shit on it, and I will strut like the pigeon I am!” Sidepiece said.

Ashley pointed at Sidepiece with both index fingers, as if to say ‘that right there’.

“And fuck you all!” Sidepiece added.

“You’re giving me a headache,” Disjoint said. The table wobbled as he brought his head back to rest against the leg. “Can you turn down the volume two clicks, ’Piece?”

“Aw, I’m sorry baby,” Sidepiece said. She stuck her foot out in the direction of his foot.

Shortcut’s weapon came down, embedding itself in the concrete between the two feet.

“What the fuck?” Sidepiece reacted, going straight back to a maxed out volume knob with the ‘what’ and bringing it to a near-whisper by the end of the ‘fuck’. “You almost took my toes off.”

“No touching.”

Still no response on my phone. I knew it was a lot to ask, shooting questions Natalie’s way, but in our recent contact, she’d asked that we continue to loop her in. I’d brought up where we were, and now she was phoning around.

Well, couldn’t hurt to try asking. Maybe one of the two would answer.

“Why did Love Lost want the guns?” I asked.

“To shoot shit?”