The Leift twins weren't fraternal; or identical. By blood they were loosely related cousins, but they were still to everyone: the twins; to see one was to see the other.
Cascade Rhyte often came to The Wrong Turn, finding himself at a bar owned by leeches wasn't terribly new, but since finding the twins and the way they mixed his drinks, no free side-eye, no bonus underhanded comment on face bruises: he didn't frequent the others anymore.
In the older bars, the more clearly seedy world; Cas would've blended in easily. Become a part of The Wrong Turn's everyday. Unfortunately, red was the main colour in Cas' life. Blood of his own or a poor soul, animal or other, coated his life and his shirts he tried to keep smart. It was strange, being surrounded by that much blue and purple, enrobed in a different world more comforting than any shade of red, any part of the life that wasn't his, the life he belonged to. Besides, Cas had convinced himself he didn't like to blend in, liked to be feared, revered.
It was at the corner table that became his home, poker with the late night stragglers, bad men cosplaying as worse men, it was here it all started to shift.
Eugene Leift, the head bartender at The Wrong Turn, was cleaning up a couple tables in a well-earned lull at the end of the night when Cas talked to him properly for the first time.
"I take it you and yours run the place?"
"No, not quite Cash." He paid in archaic gold coins exclusively. "Me and Myriad manage just about everything. You know how it is."
Although being able to feasibly figure out 'how it was' from common sense: he was a mercenary. And had only ever worked for himself- besides a brief stint with an oil baron that ended with oil, blood and water all mixing as best they could.
"I'm fortunate, I can't say I do." Cas was a lot of things, but not a liar sometimes by infuriating technicality.
Eugene sighed, half smiled and motioned to sit down.
"Please sit, join our game." Cas offered and was returned a face of unconscious disgust.
"I don't touch cards, dice neither." Eugene sat next to Cas. "Myriad handles the gambling, mind if I watch though? Keeps some of the thrill."
"Of course. So: how is it?"
Eugene chuckled once, like he was getting it over with; and began the rant that had been clogging up his lungs. "The problem is, the Turner's say I still owe them. I've paid them back but-" He paused, putting the bandage back over the bullet wound. "-it's a tale old as life, you've heard the rest."
"I haven't. What's their excuse?" Cas pushed another crude gold circle into the middle of the table.
One of the other players at the table, an old man in an equally old but well kept suit folds and takes a long disappointed slurp of his ice tea.
"We were close. So close that I went down to my last job, my very last pay to freedom and then..."Eugene trailed into a mumble and went silent.
The man in the thin boxy sunglasses and no decipherable expression threw his cards down face up.
He was bluffing on a pair, and Cascade scoffed internally, and then aloud as he revealed his cards: three of a kind.
"Thank you sirs, for the game, and your hard-earned coin!" He grinned ear to ear and suddenly shone, creating a moment of perfect golden hour for the losers to bask in. "We must talk more soon Leift, I'd like to help you if I can."
Having spotted Cascade through the front window, Cillian stopped by the door, and checked the sky: Dusk was fading into deep purple and the snow was falling thick, though gorgeous, being out alone much longer was an almost dangerous idea.
Cascade rose, pocketed various different kinds of currency, along with a handful of colourful beads and his gold lighter, and offered a hand to Eugene.
Standing up with him, for a second still caught in his gleaming aura, they were twinned. It was their matching blue paisley ascots. Eugene's neat and silken, tucked into a dress shirt and a deep blue waistcoat, Cascade's rugged almost cheesecloth, tied loosely around his neck and sticking up at odd angles as it fought with the ends of his hair.
Under the old sweetshop awning across the road, Cillian scowled. Cascade had missed their meeting and failed to repay their debt, and now he was gambling.
"I'm horrendously late for an important sundown meet-" He let the confused tone float.
"Eugene."
"Eugene. So as much as I'd love to stay and chat, I'll be going before he breaks something." The threat, while real, was held with humour. As his face faded to a smirk, and throwing a couple coins down for the free water he'd been drinking all night, he walked out the door.
As his boot crushed the fresh snow flat, he heard a yell from across the road.
"A or B?" Cillian asked, grinning but angered. A joyful but angry tone was always Cillian's trademark, especially with Cascade. Did they hate each other? Were they on the cusp of a long and passionate relationship? Even they didn't know for sure.
"A!" Cascade answers without thinking too hard, joining Cillian outside the sweetshop.
Cillian paused; he hadn't thought about what the options exactly meant yet. "Echo around? They owe me too, maybe we'll do a double feature."
"Please, no." Cascade groaned. "It's late. Besides, didn't they already pay you back?"
In all honestly, Echo never really 'owed' Cillian, in the grand sense. Their deal with the money and favours was more like a bout. An attempt to get the last word. Neither would say it aloud, but they were, simply put; friends.
"Paid me back, not paid me back, seen them, not seen them in a month; what's the difference?" He jabbed Cascade, only verbally, for now.
"I've been busy."
"With what? Trying to gamble back the money you owe me from gambling doesn't count."
"I've been pretty free then!" Another grin that almost changed the time of day with it's brightness.
Most people really really wanted to hate Cascade Rhyte. No one, so far, had succeeded.
