"Barely holdin' on This life gets scary as it goes on Burdens what we carry on I ain't perfect, spare me if I'm wrong."
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As soon as the words leave the man's mouth, Durk holds up an unsteady hand and tells them he needs to have his lawyer present before he'll answer any questions.
That has them prickling, telling him that as soon as his lawyer arrives they'll be back. He nods and resists the urge to snort derisively. He might be confused right now but he's not that out of it.
They leave and as soon as the door clicks shut behind them, the nurse is fluttering around him, checking his vitals.
Thankfully, she tells him that's he's due to be released at noon and she asks if he'd like her to notify the officers, he tells her he'll have his lawyer handle it and then he's left alone again.
Tugging off the covers, Durk grabs his phone and unlocks it, sitting up. There are too many things he's unsure about and one thing he hates is being left in the dark.
Pressing his phone to his ear, he stares, unseeing, at a point on the far wall; closing his freehand into a loose fist to distract himself from the way his fingers twitch, aching for something cold and heavy, shiny metal.
He runs this shit - him.
Nobody else.
—
After he signs the release forms the nurse helps him into a dark hoodie and sweats, they look vaguely familiar but he can't remember anyone bringing him clothes. When he asks her, the nurse says a young man brought them in when he was first admitted.
Ducking his head, Durk inhales through his nose and has to close his eyes. Something in his chest aches, the pain sharp and visceral - he...he misses-
"Ready, Mr. Banks?" Blinking his eyes open, Durk nods and slides his hands into his pockets.
She tries to get him into a wheelchair but he talks his way out of it and instead asks her about Taurus.
"Oh, I'm sorry Mr. Banks, I'm not able to release that kind of information to you."
"But he's my brother, there has to be something you can tell me." He says, and he's careful to keep his voice soft and level because she didn't say that he was dead. Because of Tione, Durk spent the last twenty-four hours grieving two people who aren't fucking dead.
Anger and sharp relief swirl together in his chest when she hesitates, then squints at him, before finally nodding. "How about I do you one better, would you like to see him?"
"Yes." It comes out before he can even think to say it.
They walk down a long, quiet corridor. It's brightly lit but it feels ominous, like he's walking into something he isn't ready for yet. Before he knows it, the nurse is letting him through a pair of double doors.
