Ryan met with Gavin the Third in a small but painfully expensive restaurant overlooking the Thames. The agent was already there when he arrived, sitting by the window with a glass of red wine in hand and three plates of tiny appetisers in front of him that Ryan was quite sure had already amounted to several hundred pounds despite seeming to barely contain more than a mouthful of actual food.
“Gavin,” he said as he approached, and the other man’s eyes flicked up to him.
It still gave Ryan a jolt, how fucking identical he looked to Ryan’s old coworker. But not just to the two Gavins who he’d met back at Rooster Teeth. To the student he’d met while investigating the wormhole that’d opened in some university science lab. To the Golden Boy who worked with gangs over in Los Santos. To that idiot running around with a Union Jack on his chest claiming to be a superhero who’d been in all the papers lately.
They were all over the fucking place, and maybe Ryan should’ve been used to that same giant nose popping up everywhere, but somehow - every time - it still made him feel an odd guilt. A flash back to his life before all this.
@nacchanthepanda Sadness and angst are my sustenance so when I’m presented with a sad request, I try to take the most bittersweet route I can think of. Bruno was so good and caring. I can only imagine the guilt he felt seeing his friends on the other side.