When Lucille walked into the room at around 3:30 in the afternoon, Rome was still sitting next to Gustavo's bed, smoking cigarettes without care.
Gustavo, on the other hand, had finally stopped giving Morse codes. The poor guy was now signaling a dirty finger instead, probably having difficulty breathing with all the smoke hitting the ventilator. Poor him, though, because Rome was stressed.
"Maestro..."
"Tell Tats to get my guns from the armory and bring it to my car." One last puff and Rome stood up before throwing the cigarette butt on the floor. His head was aching with the bazillion things running inside his mind. Attempting to comfort himself, he raised his hand and squeezed his nape. "And... tell him to restock."
"Bullets? Guns? Which one, Maestro?"
"Everything," answered Rome s
