Dinner at a Capo’s place was tricky, and if you weren't a Capo it was even trickier to come out alive.
This was from a gang that prided itself on inventive ways to kill and dismember. The fact that Rabbit was having peeps over was scary on its own, before you got to the fact that no one knew how to cook, let alone the addicted and perpetually drug-starved Rabbit. Itch knew it was a setup; it had to be, but you didn't just say, "No thanks, fucker" when the summons came and you were hiding out like a caged rat in rival gang territory.
The table was set with dishes, cracked and dirty with caked-on shit, underneath the mound of weird, beige-looking food. There were glasses, too, stolen because no one in Revival had that kind of shit anymore. They were chipped, broken but upright with clear water. Rabbit stood like a proud father with a recent high as everyone shuffled into the hovel passing as Rabbit and Bowen's home.
Drugs were served for the first course with lighters and cracked, blackened spoons for utensils. The thirst accompanying that first hit was like a runaway train, and Bowen grabbed a water glass from the table. Rabbit yelled something in the fog surrounding the room, a sharp retort that banged out like a gunshot. The water slowly turned red. Droplets of blood fell from Bowen’s mouth, the hidden glass shards in the water cutting deeply into the wrong target’s flesh.