Wes' POV
“I probably should have warned you that my uncle was dropping me off."
Parker was wreathed in a white light and looked a little scruffy with the measly bits of hair on his chin he was calling a goatee, but he looked good. If only he would stop twinning and—
“Ermmm." It wasn't the most articulate thing I've ever uttered but it got the point across.
Parker smiled, eyes a level of sadness I'd expected, and helped me up with some minor cursing.
“f**k, Wes." He was kneeling on the floor of the bar's breakroom/backroom. I was spread out on the leather couch they had back there, full of bullet hole buckshot and knife slashes. Parker leaned back on his haunches, in that Slavic squat we'd practiced but I didn't have the flexibility for. “What have you been eating."
“Doctors wanted me
