In a world full of criminals, him being the worst, who could he trust?

You, sort of. At least enough to be standing in between his legs, he sat on the counter, you wrapping his wounds. The smog of the dark city and the sounds of police cars, all mingling inside the building.

The music sizzled in the dark, washed over by the neon lights. “Too tight. Nah, too loose.” He mumbled tiredly, directing you with his forehead flat against your chest.