He picked out a small serrated knife, some morphine and the cloth, a small, black handgun.
He chuckles, plopping onto the sofa with his tea.
"I'm clean-" he shrugged and left the room, strolling into he cabinet where he kept his weapons.
"Good. Give me a report when it's done." He nods and walks off, "And don't leave any evidence!"
"Yeah, well," he shrugged off his attitude and looked down at him, "I'm going to go chill for a bit then go out and kill a shit bag-"
He laughs softly, "Yeah, I suppose I am. Huh." He shrugs, "I don't give a fuck."
"Not to be rude-" he smirked "-Sir-" he added "but, you kinda are" he jumped down from the counter he was sat on
"Hey, what does that mean?" He pouts gently, mockingly, "I'm not a whore."
"Bless. How innocent of you- I really don't believe you" he shrugged "but if your really say so" he laughs, thinking to when he's seen his boss with the other men.
"What gave you that impression?" He chuckles, humourlessly. "Because I most certainly do not. I mean, I hold the power but I don't do the fucking."