His hand waved nonchalantly, the fear he'd had deep instilled relaxing a bit as when they usually were just talking and drinking. "Yes, only once. Unless they pretended to remain asleep." He couldn't truly say and then looked forward to make sure they were still heading in the same direction. He hadn't seen a lot of death, but still... " It would seem to be the same, but it isn't at all. When someone is asleep they are in a position that is unconsciously comfortable. And they have a calmness in their face, a corpse is just.. a shadow of it. It isn't the same, though it would work as a shabby substitute."

“If you’re that attached to life,” Chris scoffed.

A cart was coming down the street. Chris stepped out and hailed it.

“How often do you get to see a skeleton?” he called over the hooves as the hansom approached.

Darius smiled slightly and shrugged. "As expected from someone who flirts with death." He walked with him as he saw they were going to take a ride, which was the easier option. "Not very often, do they have them at the prisons?" He looked at him curiously. He was certain they didn't keep them there long enough for them to be reduced to bones, but if anyone knew the answer, it would be Chris.

Chris looked up with a wistful look, taking a couple of moments to seemingly reminisce as the hansom approached.

“The one in London has kept a man who robbed my father decades ago. Not quite a skeleton, but might as well be.”

In a good mood, Chris fished out his own wallet and handed a note to the driver. The driver looked down, frowned.

“You’re short.”

“Christopher Hurley. Put it on my credit.”

Before the driver could further argue, he was letting himself in.

Darius rose his brow and opened his mouth to speak but then shook his head. Seemed like they'd just find some carcasses by this point. He frowned sharply but was glad it wasn't seen as Chris got in ahead of him. He shook his head at the man's behavior but he knew to expect nothing less. He slipped in beside him and looked towards the window out of habit. He then frowned in thought and looked to Chris. "Did you even tell the driver where we are going?"

Chris looked to Darius nonchalantly as he got in and questioned him. It was close quarters.

“That was your job, my friend,” he said as naturally as day shifting into night.

Nonetheless … the cart began to move.

Darius looked at him in confusion and worry began to grip him. He stuck his head out of the cab and slapped the side a few times to get the driver's attention.

"Where do you think we want to go?!"

CLOMP CLOMP CLOMP CLOMP

The driver did not seem to hear them, conveniently, though his shoulders hunched a bit at the same time Darius yelled.

Chris propped his arms behind his head, arching a brow.

“Quite the predicament,” he mused.

It took three seconds for him to come up with a solution:

“Throw something at him.”

Darius frowned as they rode on and looked to Chris. His answer was useless but he would never say that. As panic continued, especially from being ignored by the driver, he suddenly wish he'd kept that dammed rock. He looked around the small space. He had nothing on him. Biting his lip, he went back to the carriage and climbed out until he was sitting on the side, gripping the top foe dear life. "I am speaking to you. Dammit! I will make sure you won't get another cent if you don't take us where we want to go. So you'd better tell us where you think that is!"