Mornings were rough.

Of course, every part of the day was rough, especially if you were in Vodka's shoes. Being a member of one of the most elusive crime syndicates in the nation, takes its toll. Days easily started to blend together, even with the unpredictable workload. It was wild, it was exciting, and it was oh so illegal. Vodka was a simple man. He didn't like to think about his life choices and his employers. Caused too much of a headache. He was good at what he did, and the job didn't require a college degree. That was all that mattered and all he cared about.

Rolling over to his opposite side, Vodka studied the narrow lines of light creeping in from the window. When his eyes began to give him that familiar burning sensation, he buried his face into a pillow. Reaching out a hand, he felt around for his sunglasses on the bedside table. After knocking them to the ground, he groaned. Peeking up from his nest, Vodka slipped on the glasses, and with a sigh of relief, the world darkened. With the clock saying it was six thirty, he thought it was wise to get up. One never knew when a job would roll around, after all. Since there was nothing scheduled for the morning, he slipped into a comfy pair of sweats. After the mirror proved that he was reasonably decent, Vodka snuck over to the door.

After a rather unfortunate incident where he accidentally rammed his door into Gin's face, Vodka learned to listen before opening. Talk about closing the barn door after the horse got out, He thought with a smile. Creeping out into the narrow hallway, he was grateful Gin wasn't in sight. While Vodka respected, admired and to some extent loved him, he was also a bit too terrifying to deal with at such an early hour. As always, he looked at the closed and locked door down the hallway. He was never allowed into Gin's room…not after that other unfortunate incident. Hopefully, the next tenants will leave the wardrobe, hiding the bullet hole, alone.

Padding down the hall's tiled floor, Vodka entered the multipurpose room, which hosted the dining area, kitchen and living room. By the window overlooking the city's view, there were two armchairs, along with an empty coffee table. In the centre of the room, a small wooden table along with two chairs sat. It should be noted that two chairs were rarely both occupied at the same time. The kitchen was well…a kitchen. Small, functional, and effective. There was never more than the basics in the fridge, but they did have a healthy supply of granola bars in the cupboard. Quite a useful snack on the longer missions. Stepping up the small step to the kitchen area, Vodka began to make breakfast. It wasn't often he got to eat the meal, and he was damned if he was robbed of this chance. Humming a tune under his breath, he cracked eggs, toasted toast, fiddled with the coffee machine and fried bacon. After a good half hour, Vodka sat down with a heavy plate, with a nice array of food groups. Sunnyside up eggs, toast, bacon, along with a large mug of coffee. Just as he was about to open the morning newspaper, and dig in, Vodka heard some noises by the door.

Sighing, he crept up to the door and armed himself with an umbrella. It could be anything, from a random neighbour kid, the lady down the hall that always got lost, or…something much less innocent. With a gulp, Vodka readied himself to fling open the door. Just as he was reaching for the doorknob, he heard the tell-tale noises of a key being inserted into the door. Oh, God.

Vodka flung the umbrella in a corner and started to run towards the kitchen. He didn't care how childish he was being; he just wanted to get away from the door as soon as possible. He completely forgot that on Tuesdays, Gin went to the gym downstairs. Their jobs had been taking up more and more time lately; this was their first free morning in a long time. But his ankle slipped to one side, and the next thing he knew, Vodka was sprawled out on the floor.

"Oh." Gin said, flatly, as he stopped in the open doorway. With keys dangling from his fingers, and a lit cigarette in his mouth, he took in the scene. "Did I miss something?"

Sitting up, Vodka made a show of rubbing his thigh. "Ah, no. Just a…a leg cramp, that's all."

Carefully putting his keys into the pocket of his coat, hanging up on the rack, Gin gave his partner a doubtful look. "Maybe you should exercise a bit, then." He drawled, taking a drag of his cigarette. With that, he flouced towards the bathroom.

And maybe you should stop smoking so much. Vodka thought bitterly, pushing up from the floor. He would give anything for the courage to say that aloud. But, since he did like having a place to live, and food to eat...he'll keep his mouth shut.

As he started to dig into his, now a bit cold, breakfast. Vodka could hear the shower going, presumably because Gin was in there. Unless there was a ghost that wanted to practice good hygiene habits. He could feel the tips of his mouth turn up, and a laugh slipped out, as he flipped through the newspaper. Just as he was dipping a strip of toast into the yolk of his egg, he heard footsteps behind him, delicate as they may be.

As Gin strode to the kitchen, Vodka couldn't help but admire him. Even in a pair of old shorts and a tank top, he still radiated a sense of superiority. Plus, his long hair was tied up into a bun. It's hard to not like that bun. While Vodka wasn't exactly sure why Gin's hair was quite so long, but it was certainly beautiful. Long, and blonde, with hints of of silver, where he was testing out some dye. It was a unique look, not exactly helpful for a sneaky career, but quite fashionable. Vodka silently approved, as he drank some more coffee.

The two were in an uncomfortable sort of silence. Gin eventually sat down with a book, and a plate of toast. Aware of his chewing, Vodka attempted to eat quietly. A hard thing to do, especially with a crispy piece of bacon. Swallowing quickly, he spotted an interesting article in the newspaper. "Looks like another murder was solved. Isn't that the fourth one this month?" He asked, partly because he was curious, and partly because he wanted to break the tension.

"Must be all those detectives in this damn city." Gin snarled, spreading more butter on his toast. "Seems to be new ones cropping up all over the place."

"Isn't that the truth…" Mummering, Vodka finished off his eggs and reached for his coffee. Which promptly upturned, spilling its hot contents, all over both the newspaper and the table. It only took a few seconds before it was engulfing the entire surface. A bit sheepishly, Vodka sprang up and retrieved a dishtowel from a drawer.

Face hot from embarrassment, he began to soak up the spill. Luckily, Gin didn't make any sort of comment. If he did, Vodka likely would have felt a jerk, for a good two weeks. As it was, he wasn't feeling too hot. Thankfully, there didn't seem to be any sort of leftover stain on the table. Gathering up his dishes, and the remaining scraps of his dignity, Vodka entered the kitchen. Turning on the sink, he squirted in some dish soap. Might as well get something productive done after all.

As Vodka was scrubbing away at a frying pan, Gin set down a plate on the counter, and went over to the coffeemaker, still focused on what he was reading. He was already settled into one of the chairs by the window, once Vodka finished putting away the last of the dishes, and poured a fresh cup of coffee, Lingering on the border of the kitchen, Vodka wondered where he should go. The table? Opposite Gin? As his thoughts were on the verge of making him just retreating to his room and calling it a day, Gin titled his head in Vodka's direction.

Gratefully taking the invitation, Vodka grabbed the soiled newspaper and got comfy on the chair. The sunlight was shining outside, and the noises of the city were wafting up to them. Avoiding the destroyed bits of the paper, Vodka let himself enjoy the pleasant moment. Time passed by quickly, and the next thing he knew, he and Gin were putting down their reading material, besides their mugs. Feeling just a bit exposed, Vodka carefully drank some coffee, not knowing what to say. Gin made the same motion, turning his attention to the bustling city below. He lit another cigarette, breathing out the smoke, fogging the window pane.

Once that got a bit boring, he looked at Vodka's drink. "How do you take your coffee?" He asked, with a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Two sugars, one milk." He answered, also looking at his tan coloured beverage. "Yourself?'

"Black." Gin took a long drink, holding his cigarette between his fingers.

They spent the majority of the morning drinking coffee, and absently floating between topics. All things considered, it wasn't such a horrible way to spend a day. Later, in the evening, Vodka fell asleep easily.

In the cover of the night, Vodka was half awake, and half aware someone was standing beside him. Some light flowed from the open door, barely illuminating Gin's narrow form. His eyes closed once more and flew open when he felt a gun in his side.

"You got twenty minutes. Be in the car."

Vodka felt a brush of hair going across his exposed skin as Gin made a dramatic exit. With a groan, Vodka put on his sunglasses and flipped on his lamp. Rousing himself out of bed, he noticed the time: 4:38 AM.

Mornings were rough.