Demons Aren't Usually Called Charlie

Lucio

They stood outside of Niko's apartment. Niko was fishing in his pockets for his house keys, other keys jangled in his ever deeper pockets. Lucio stood there, lazily, having not slept more than five minutes last night.

"Are you sure you have them?" Lucio asked, just wanting to pass out on the floor.

"Yes," Niko hissed in mild frustration. "They've got to be here."

The apartment building was incredibly up market. Most walls glass, most walls black and white. Everything was sleek and well polished, yet had sharp lines zigzagging criss-crossing the view. Lucio didn't think much of it, but architecture wasn't his thing.

"Fuck it!" Niko seethed, a loud bang echoed down the corridor as he proceeded to punch his door.

To Lucio, this action seemed very unnecessary. His anger seemed unconditional and inappropriate for the situation. Niko had only los this keys, in his own pockets. Irrational. Even so, with the ear-splitting noise, Lucio jumped out of his skin, eyes wide and scared. Niko's punch was powerful. He hoped to never experience it again.

"Please, Niko calm down. I'm sure you have them." Lucio murmured.

"Shut your mouth Lucio, you don't know anything." Niko spoke with an unpleasant tone.

It was weird. He was so different from last night. No longer cheerful and cheeky. He acted sour and bitter. Lucio wanted to spit him out, but he was stuck in the back of his throat.

With a few more sonorous metal clinks, Niko yanked something out of his pockets. Keys. Lucio rolled his eyes, idiot.

"See I told you you had them." Lucio said, a slight triumphant edge on his voice. His only reply was a glare of anger from his room mate. He should stop messing around.

Sharply, Niko jabbed the key into the lock on the door, twisting it with force. Unnecessary force. With zest, he flung open the door, the bang of the handle against wall making the already jumpy Lucio jump once more.

The apartment was just like the corridor. White, black, modern, stylist. It was very empty inside, as if Niko barely lived here. The living room only contained a sofa, coffee table and an unrealistically large television. The kitchen was eerily clean, nothing to suggest meals where even prepared there. Lucio could only imagine that Niko's bedroom probably only had a bed and dresser. Fortunately, he couldn't see that room from the door. It seemed very dead inside. Somebody had killed the spirit that once was the house.

"This is... nice." Lucio commented, not really sire if he meant it or not.

"It's ridiculously expensive, so it better be nice." Niko wasn't even looking at Lucio anymore.

What was that man's problem? Lucio hated how this made him feel. Guilty. Tried, convicted, executed by his own mind. Great, he'd only know this guy for just over one day and it was as if they'd been married fifteen years.

Lucio kicked his shoes off his achy feet and slumbered over to the sofa, hoping to get some sleep before he was forced to pass out. It was strange. He didn't actually need to sleep, but he felt so much better for it. He was glad he finally knew something like this existed, able to pass time effortlessly whilst relaxing. Human are amazing.

Just before his long-overdue nap session, he heard something. Something on the left side of the sofa, the side nearest to the huge glass windows. It sounded like a small gurgling noise. Lucio paused, unsure whether to ignore it or investigate. It was mostly likely the wrong choice, but he called over to Niko.

"What now?" Niko snapped.

"I think there's something down here."

"Can't you just look yourself? I'm busy."