that was you.

"marx first," he agrees, following closely behind, "embrace the hell we have entered later." there is an exhaustion that settles in him, and possibly his partner, as they leave the mansion, actions emboldened by incredulity and disbelief ( slowly settling into resignation ). the front door grants them leave without fanfare, and for now, maddox will take what he can get.

his mouth moves before it has time to properly process the thoughts and as they cross the fences, he remarks offhandedly, "now is the perfect time to set it on fire, if you want." then, and only then, does the full impact of his partner's brilliantly deadpan humor hit. it hits -- shoulders shaking -- and it is ( to moosely's utter horror ) thinly veiled giggles, tears in the corners of his eyes. to his credit, though, he is still walking in a straight line.

( and eventually, they do make it to the rendezvous, maddox straightening up and pretending that that hadn't happened at all. in a considerably more collected tone, he offers, "we can discuss at my place later, if you'd like." )

the door is before them, behind which sits a man he has since decided to blame for a vast majority of their current predicament. and, like before, he raises his hand and raps sharply on the wood. "it's us again."