Guess you've got one reason to keep me alive.

[It's clear Len didn't expect the smack, head whipping up to glare at Kabal with sharp eyes, a split second away from smacking him back. The instinct is so strong his fingers twitch against the bed.]

The colour scheme of this room was 'garbage' before I shacked up here.

[Len almost said moved in. He must be in worse shape than he feels. That's a slip-up he doesn't want to make. There's nothing permanent about this. Kabal never invited him to stay, and Len won't be here forever.

At some point he'll have to find his own place. When Chronos is finally bored of trying to play make believe Guantanamo, or they finally come to terms.

Which could be a long, long time. Mick is the only man more stubborn than Len is.

The glare lingers a moment longer before Len sighs, long-suffering, like he's the one doing Kabal a favour letting him stitch his gut back together. Which is totally what Kabal wanted to do with his evening.]

Fine. You do mine, and I'll do yours.

So you better make it pretty.

[Who wants a thank you when you can have a thinly veiled threat?]