"My dear, gentle Darius," Chris laughed with a faux-warm look toward him. "Let go. Live a little. Trust me."

Zechariah mouthed 'trust me' mockingly behind Chris' back.

"Same brothel?" John suggested from behind. "The one where Zack cried?"

"Her face could make anyone cry," Zechariah bristled.

"Somewhere Zack needn't get it up," Chris answered glibly, turning a corner.

Darius chuckled trying to hide any nervousness. "I feel like I'm always living a little when I am around you.. but also stepping closer to death more so than usual." He laughed a bit more as he glanced towards Zechariah and shrugged though quick to drop it and keep up.

He mentally wondered if they regularly visited brothels with out him, not that he cared too much for going. He liked to think of himself as a bit of an artist and they should try to reach for something beyond their basic needs, right? Plus.. He shook it off and hoped that John would be left behind. "Is this really where we are heading? I thought you had more imagination.." It was a last ditch effort to change his mind, but he was certainly hoping it wouldn't seen as mocking his idea.

Zechariah coughed next to Darius, but it had a few too many syllables and sounded suspiciously like "induce vomiting."

Chris looked over his shoulder with a glitter in his eye, and rolled his neck in a languid shrug.

"What is it in the waters that renders everyone impotent in Whitby?"

"Uh, I'm half there just thinking about it," John interrupted in an urgent tone. "C'mon."

"Second-born son," Zechariah added with a shrug, as though every second-born son in the land was mystically stricken unable in Whitby.

"Very well," Chris said with a roll of his eyes, and then headed them toward a less traveled road ...

They looked to be heading toward worn housing...

Darius stifled a snicker as he managed to hear through the coughing fit. He grinned a little at the man who might just be a new friend as he walked in the group. The complaining about the disinterest in being with women of leisure had him roll his eyes and glad he wasn't the only one.

"I'm an artist, it might kill my creativity." He excused as he walked along behind Chris and rose his brow suspiciously at the houses ahead of them. What on earth? Did Chris go to these sort of places? What on earth could be here that would be of any fun? He wanted to back out but couldn't, not because he cared about the opinions of the other men, but he always tried to please Chris and had to hope it wasn't as ridiculous and dangerous as it looked.

"Everyone knows artists have to lose an ear," Zechariah smirked, and reached up to 'snip' Darius' ear between two gloved fingers.

His head swerved forward when he heard rattling.

Chris was now trying to open a partially broken window from the bottom.

Darius laughed and lightly batted at the hand. "Only a fraud copies another artist's gimmick." He grinned huge but also turned at the noise.

He walked over to try to help though hoped it didn't bring someone out to try to stab them. "What is in here?" His voice lowered as he had no idea if anyone was inside.

"But imitation," Zechariah purred, brushing Darius' hand as he finally let his fall by his side, "is the sincerest form of flattery."

The window rattled, and a shard of glass fell loose.

"Hah, no, I'm out," announced John, and out he was.

Zechariah's gaze went from glassy-warm to glassy-accusative on Darius. Darius had said he would do anything, after all.