14: The Four Properties

Growden had dressed himself in a plain gray collared shirt, tucked into some trousers with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The cigarette in his hands was almost down to his fingertips, smoke trailing around the room. Adriel was on the other side of the kitchen island, suiting up a small handgun with what Growden only assumed to be a silencer. He also tucked a blade into the knife slot of his harness. 

"Are you sure this is necessary?"

Adriel shrugged, carefully sliding a smaller blade over to Growden's side of the table.

"Better safe than fucked."

Growden took a drag from the cigarette before flicking it into the sink behind him. He was pretty sure "fucked" was all a person could be in their shoes. Still, he folded the pocket knife closed and tucked it into his pocket. 

"Where are we going, anyways?'