Heists and Vengeance

Eleven

Brett

Brett lay in bed, his mind racing. It had been a hurried few days, ever since the plan had been established – Ryder had had lots of jobs to do, asking him if he could hack into this, find out that. In fact, it had been too long since he'd had time to finally think - or interact properly with the others.

But even if he'd been free, they wouldn't have been. Ryder was busy managing things, Erin and Cole both had their own jobs, and even the new girl was playing her part with gusto. Brett liked her actually – she was snarky and short, a perfect match for Erin. What was her name again? Lara? Layla? Lil' Mama?

He'd figure it out. At the moment, he was more preoccupied with what he'd overheard, in the hallway, between Ryder and Cole. He hadn't meant to eavesdrop, but once he'd heard Cole mention his name, he'd had to listen in.

And, honestly? He hadn't thought that Ryder thought so highly of him. They were friends, but Ryder always seemed to look down on him, sort of, simply because he was more casual than him. But Brett couldn't help it if Ryder was a killjoy, especially when it came to work!

He rarely properly relaxed, and was very private (unless you'd gotten a few drinks into him; then he'd talk about pretty much anything). But apart from that...well, despite the fact that they'd been best friends for so long, he knew almost nothing about his past, his family or how he'd ended up in the city. And sometimes...it felt frustrating that Ryder was so closed off, a big contrast to Brett, who was alright with sharing every thought that entered his head.

It wasn't like he didn't have secrets – he definitely had more than his fair share – but that wasn't a reason to be open and friendly. If he could manage it, why couldn't Ryder? Was it really that hard for him?

He shook his head. He'd gone through this thought process many times before, and he knew that it never ended with satisfying answers. And besides, he wasn't mad at him, not after hearing what he'd said to Cole earlier.

He rolled over, Ryder's words still echoing in his head.

I'd trust him with my life.

* * *

It was three in the morning and Brett still wasn't asleep. No matter how much he tried to clear his mind of thoughts, and just be, sleep eluded him. He tossed and turned, his mind filled with plans on how he was going to play his role in the heist.

Finally, he got out of his bed, deciding to get a glass of water from the kitchen, sure that he'd read somewhere that that would help him sleep. He doubted the truth behind the statement, but at that point, he had nothing to lose.

Brett opened his door, cringing at the squeak it made, and padded softly into the hall. He took extra care in front of Ryder's door – he was a light sleeper – but relaxed completely in front of Erin's room. That girl could sleep through anything – even a firecracker exploding next to her bed. Though he wasn't eager to try that again – the last time he'd done it, Erin had nearly killed him when she'd seen what it had done to her hair. But how was he supposed to know that it would singe off five inches of her hair?

He took a step forward – and stopped. Slivers of light seeped between the gap under the next door – whoever was in there was still awake. Who was it? Oh, yeah – the Turner chick. He still couldn't remember her name.

But what was she still doing up? Thoughts of water forgotten, Brett leaned towards the door, but whatever she was doing was too quiet for him to identify.