They'd been at the house Abruzzi had gotten them for less than two weeks, and Michael was already losing his mind.
After escaping Fox River, they'd left Haywire out in the cold and gotten on the plane to Panama. Abruzzi had aranged for a house to be made available to them for a few days, until everyone had plans to go their seperate ways. Unfortunately, since the late death of Charles Westmoreland, everyone was now after the money.
LJ was on the run from the Company agents, but he managed to make it down to Panama and was now also living with the Fox River boys in the cramped three bedroom house. Michael and Licoln had taken one bedroom, LJ and Tweener had been given one because they were the youngest and Linc insisted on it, Abruzzi had claimed one under the pretense that it was his house, and Sucre and C-Note had graciously chosen the living room, although Michael suspected it had something to do with Sucre watching Spanish TV shows at night. T-Bag had been delegated to Abruzzi's room, since the mobster was the only one that had no fear of the murderer and seemed to be able to control him, to an extent.
Although it was fairly spaceous, with three bedrooms and a living room, two bathrooms, a decent kitchen and a patio that led to the beach, things were getting tense and heated between the former inmates.
Such as right now, Michael thought as he rubbed his temples. Currently, the former inmates were sitting around the dining table, violently arguing about who was going to the grocery store for more supplies.
"Yo, homie, I ain't missing out on this shiz!"
"Sit and shut up, pendejo."
"Don' talk ta him like tha', boy, or I'll cut a nice grin in ya jugular, ya hear?"
"Like Hell you will, papi!"
"Is tha' a challenge?"
"C'mon now, Johnny Boy. Jus' let me git one little scratch on him!"
"I said enough."
"Wow, this is like watching a gay soap opera."
"LJ, be quiet."
"ENOUGH!" Michael yelled, slamming his fist down on the table. Surprised, the seven other men looked at him in silence. "Look, we can't all go. Lincoln and I are too recognizable, so we shouldn't leave. LJ isn't safe on his own, and he still has agents after him. T-bag, you're not going anywhere. So-"
"Now look here, Pretty. I don' think-" T-bag started, but was cut off by a heavy glare from Lincoln.
"So," Michael continued, "That leaves Sucre, John, Tweener, and C-Note. Personally I think Fernando and John should go, because," here he had to raise his voice over the protests of the others, "Sucre speaks the language, and John has all the money anyways." He glanced around, and to his relief, there was grudging looks of acceptance on everyone's faces. Well, everyone except T-bag, but that was to be expected.
"Well then, it's settled." Michael stood up and handed the list to Abruzzi. "Try and get everything that's on here and anything else you think we need, but stay on the budget. Also, the faster, the better."
Before John or Sucre could reply, T-bag butted in with, "Tha faster, tha better. Why, Pretty, I didn' know you were that kinda man." Everything exploded at once.
LJ and Tweener were laughing loudly, Michael was rolling his eyes, Lincoln was trying to get a firm hold on T-Bag's throat, and Abruzzi was prying Linc off while simultaneously telling T-Bag that if he got his shit kicked in while he was gone, he was not to come crying to the Sicilian mobster. C-Note just looked annoyed.
After about five minutes, a struggle, and many curse words later, Sucre and Abruzzi had the list and were out the door, promising to be back in an hour or so.
I have a feeling this is only the beginning, Michael thought to himself and groaned. Suddenly, he felt fingers ghosting down his neck and over his spine.
"Watcha groanin' for, Pretty?" A voice drawled at his ear, "Got a lil too much... tension? Now, ya know ol' Teddy can fix tha' up real nice for ya."
Yep, definitely just the beginning.