Delirium

.six

"So, any news?" Richard asked Mason with a smile on his face, only to receive a glare back from the other male. Mason wasn't in the mood for talking. Trying to find connections with Cyan's past and his current location wasn't working out and he was more annoyed that he couldn't find some eighteen year old than he was not finding Elliot.

Although, he was with Elliot, so it made sense, but damn was he annoyed. He needed something. Anything that could lead him to Elliot and maybe Cyan wasn't the best option. He needed to find another approach but they had tried every approach out there. Cyan was the only thing left.

"Fuck!" He yelled out, leaning back in the seat, throwing the file of Cyan that he had been looking at all morning.

"Why are you so bent out of shape about this case? Give it a rest, it'll be okay."

"No. No it won't. I won't be satisfied unless I have cuffs around his wrists."

Richard raised an eyebrow, beginning to walk away. "It's as if you have some type of personal vendetta against this guy."

Ignoring him, Mason picked up Cyan's file for the thousandth time today and opened it back up. Where the hell could this kid be?

~

"Back to see me so soon? I would've thought that you would've given up by now."

Mason sat on the stool across from the picture covered wall and stared at Carter who was currently counting money behind the counter. He had barely even spared a glance at Mason before rolling his eyes.

"Are you here for something important or just to interrogate me some more?"

Mason's eyes followed the pictures along the wall, noting the newer ones that had just been added. A week had passed since the last time he had spoken to Cyan's brother and he decided to go back. This time, with a different approach.

"How long have you've been doing this? Drawing and stuff."

"Since I could hold a pencil upright." Carter collected the wad of cash and folded it, placing it in his pocket and finally looking up. He was in a hoodie again, covering up his tattoos and yet not the bruise that was left on his neck.

"I'm guessing chicks dig it too?" Mason inquired.

"Chicks always swoon over a guy with tattoos. It has that 'bad boy' vibe that they're always talking about. But this-" Carter pointed to his neck with a small shrug. "...I actually have no idea how I got this. Woke up in a bed that wasn't my own and suddenly had this. Sorta wish I could've met the person."

Mason nodded before standing up.

"I want one."

"A hickey? Fuck mate, can't help you there."

"A tattoo." Mason corrected him, pulling the sleeve of his jacket up to expose his forearm. Ever since he was a teenager, he had wanted a tattoo, forgetting about the entire concept when he had left highschool. Now seemed like the perfect time to get one though.

Carter pointed at the sign in the window. "Closed. As in, I'm done for the night. Besides, I don't ink on cops. You guys rub me up the wrong way."

"Can you make an exception."

Warily, Carter looked over him. "You come in here to interrogate me about my little brother and expect me to waste my stuff on you?"

"I'll pay cash." Mason offered.

"I only take cash."

"He's only your foster brother, not one related by blood. What do you even care?" Mason slid his sleeve back down. "You wanna know what I think?"