Banksy was on edge.
It wasn't completely unusual for him to feel a certain amount of apprehension before a job, considering the fact that getting caught often led to a rather savage beating. And that was if his captors were feeling generous. Considering these were Sons, he doubted very much that would be the case. However, this feeling of unease was brought on by something else and after a few minutes of walking in the quickly fading light of day, Azalea took notice.
"Is something wrong?" she asked, glancing to her side. "You haven't said a word since we left the hotel."
"It's nothing."
"It is obviously not nothing," Azalea said as she came to a stop. Banksy continued walking until she reached out and caught him lightly by the arm. He allowed himself to come to a halt.
Azalea stepped
