Who Needs Rest?

The boat ride back to the Hogue felt like floating in a dream. The adrenaline had worn off and he felt every bit of the trip. If not for Cagliostro, he would have passed out from blood loss and even then he still had some nasty wounds to heal.
Feeling a hand grasp his own, he rolled his head to see Hunter had a firm grip on him. Based on the fitful movements and closed eyes, he had passed out, now locked in a fever dream. He tried to pry his hand loose, but the man simply gripped tighter, begging for an ‘Isabella’ to stay. So the man had a love, most likely dead if he fought so hard to hold on to a simple memory of her.
Tarmen found a mix of pity and respect for the assassin. This mission had made it clear Hunter had little experience with people outside business. Yet it seemed he had his heart whisked away and then broken.
Good to know the man had baggage. You never want a killer that doesn’t care about something.
Letting his head fall back, Tarmen resigned his hand to the death grip. It made him think of Ester, down to the callousness of Hunter’s hand. He was too tired to be concerned by the thought, instead wondering if she had have found another ‘helper’ to take his place. It did create a pit in his gut, given he had come to like her presence quite a bit. He would have to see after mouthing off to Zane.
He had closed his eyes for what he thought was a second, opening them to find they had reached the Hogue at last. His hand finally freed and a bit of sleep to keep him going, he helped the others onboard before joining Alexis. By her face, he could tell this was going be even more fun added to the trip. Safely away from the island, he allowed his cheerful sarcasm to show again.
“What’s the issue? Dead body?”