He's dying.
He didn't think about everything he failed to accomplish in life, but he more pitied himself for getting nowhere. He had thought of so many magnificent and amazingly bone-chilling ways to die, but instead he ended up with a knife in his...
"You're telling me that you can take us to exactly where all of these men are?"
Mickey sighed for what felt like the millionth time that day and nodded exasperatedly. "Yes, Larkin."
"And that these men and your father Terry Milkovich kidnapped his two sons Colin and Iggy Milkovich, and also Ian Gallagher?"
"Yeah."
"You do realize your father has custody over Colin and Iggy? Even though they're adults now, there were never any files or charges of withhold against Terry and his kids."
"Well, how about you look at all the other charges pressed against Terry and then tell me if he's a good fucking parent?" Jamie snapped.
Larkin exhaled and put his hands on his uniformed waist. "Sure, then we can look at the charges against your brothers."
"Okay, let's calm down," Lip butted in, gesturing to the security footage of Terry's men shooting down Kash 'N Grab. He paused the video and zoomed in to each of the men's faces. "I bet you can identify all these men where we're taking you today. Plus I guarantee you'll find my brother and the rest of the Milkovich's there as well. Without their consent."
Larkin gave one last look to the group before reaching to the microphone connected to his uniform. "Dispatch, this is Larkin. I've got a case of kidnapping. Gonna need backup at the Kash 'N Grab ASAP."
Static. "Copy that."
Larkin looked over at Mickey who was sitting by the counter surrounded by shards of glass with a cigarette in his hand. He was in his own world, clearly, with his eyes casted downwards and mouth moving simultaneously as he seemingly spoke to himself. Larkin approached him carefully.
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"You alright?"
Mickey looked up, snapped out of his daze and shrugged. "Whatever."
Larkin put his hands on his hips. "This uh, Ian kid. How's he related to your Terry problems?"
Mickey exhaled smoke through his nose as he furrowed his eyebrows. "Fuck's it matter?"
"This is a police case now, Mickey. I'm going to have to know the details." Larkin sighed when Mickey said nothing, only shrugged carelessly. "Listen, you can talk to me or talk to some douche-bag officer who won't give a fuck about you or this case."
Mickey looked up at Larkin and shook his head, the cigarette pressed between his lips. "He worked here," he said, smoke floating out of his mouth with each word. "He was here when the shooting went down. They probably took him when they found out he survived."
