Conversation · Titus Hardie

"Hey, it's you again!" He smiles, more than a bit drunk now. "I've been thinking about it and you know what... we're both cops. This city is big enough for two cops."

"Okay..." He looks at the lieutenant. "Three cops. Me, you, and your little friend here."

"Can you help me get into harbour?"

"Nah, the harbour is in complete lockdown. Evrart's orders."

"Wait, how do you get in, then?"

"We don't. Gonna sit tight, get drunk and mourn our fallen comrades till bossman sends word." He shakes his can. "Times are changing, coppo."

"Okay, got it."

Titus nods. "What else?"

"I'm sorry about the people you lost."

His bruised face stiffens. "Theo was old. I think he'd be pretty happy with the way he went. Never could imagine him withering away on a sickbed."

"But Angus..." He gulps. "He was just a stupid kid. Didn't realize the mess he'd gotten into... trusted me... Still, the balls on that kid! Went down fighting for someone else's shit like a fat angry bear."

Here it comes. The last one is the worst one. He only deals with it by drinking copious amounts of 8% beer.

An honest tactic. And effective.

"And Glen... Glen was my friend. Best I've ever had. I loved that crazy homo like my own brother." He takes a sip of his beer. "We're all fucked without him, but whaddaya do? This job is shit."

"This is getting dark. Let's talk about happy stuff."

"Sure, coppo -- puppies and daisies. Shoot!"

"We are born in to this world to die, it seems. Maybe there's redemption in that? At least it ends one day."

"Man, getting shot has really squeezed all the funk out of you." The guy looks up from his table. "Mark my words, one day we'll look back to this day and remember their courage, not their deaths."

"Right..." He takes another sip. "But today ain't that day yet, is it?"

"Hold on, where's that Shanky-fella?"

"Dennis? That poor little rat is dead too." He shakes his head. "I always thought he'd run. But, no, he stayed. Stupid brave fella."

He didn't like him -- that only makes it worse.

"They were good people. I'm sorry it went like that."

"Well yeah... memento mori, right?"

Memento mori or 'remember that you must die' is a slogan various religious orders have thrown around since the dawn of mankind, to emphasize the vanity of earthly life and the transient nature of all earthly pursuits. In essence it means one should live virtuously in this life to live better in the afterlife.

"I'm not sure that really applies here..."

"Sure it does." He nods confidently and raises his whiskey bottle. "Live every day like it's your last, 'cause you might be dead tomorrow."

"What does that mean?"

"It means you might die tomorrow, so live every day like it's your last. Ain't that right, fellows?"

"Absolutely! Today I'm going to get drunk, eat good food, and bed a good-looking gal, 'cause tomorrow a motor carriage might run me over..."

"Or you might die of a heart failure... Or syphilis?"

"Hey, hey... fuck you for ruining a beautiful idea!"

"Yeah... uh... totally, totally."

"They died fighting for something they believed in. There's honour in that."

"Ah, cut that shit out," the Mesque interjects angrily. "That's the kind of rhetoric bangers tell to kids in Jamrock to get them to join a gang. I'm sick and tired of this honour bullshit!"

"Easy now, Al. His buddy got busted up pretty bad too. If that's his way of dealing with it, I say let him have it."

"To our fallen comrades!" Titus raises his whiskey bottle and takes a sip so manly it makes his eyes water.

"Yeah." He takes a swig from the whiskey bottle. "Had to tell Angus's mum about the honour that was bestowed upon his son... she didn't share your optimism, copper. But fine... Fuck it. To each his own."

"Hold on, what about that Shanky-fella?"

"Dennis? You saw him run. He's a mean little shit and I never trusted him." He shakes his head. "He better run real fast now -- real fast."

Titus makes no attempt to hide his disgust. Grief-stricken anger boils in him.

"Do you know what happened to Klaasje?"

"Don't know, don't care. I'll be glad if I never see that fucking woman again."

Even after all that hell he's still bitter about her?

"Same here, man."

He shrugs and tries to look uninterested.

His clenched jaw says otherwise. If anything, it's another score for him to settle. One day -- it'll have to wait for now.

"Titus, after all we've been through, level with me... you really liked her, didn't you?"

"Nope."

He did.

"Okay, got it."

He nods and takes another sip of whiskey.

"Listen, about me kind of throwing you under the wagon there..."

"'Kind of'?! You tried to pin a murder on me... on US!" For a moment he looks like he's going to hit you. "Why did you do that?!"

"What can I say, I'm a wildcard, that's my method."

"Well, your method is shit!" He sticks his giant index finger right in your face.

"I'm gonna let it slide on the count of all of us stickin' it to these tea pots together, but you need to get your head out of your ass, copper. Or you'll never solve this shit."

Maybe he has a point there?

"I panicked, alright?"

"No, it isn't fuckin' alright!" He is breathing heavily as he sticks his giant index finger right in your face.