"IT'S NOT THE BAR I MISS!" Kinn's fist slammed down on the table, scattering some of the supplies and he gripped the edge of the table with both hands. It was a 'normal' conversation, wasn't it? They needed to talk shop in order to keep everyone here safe. But Vegas couldn't have an issue with it, could he? Of course not. He had Pete, his rock. And Kinn needed to keep it together.

"Sorry." He didn't bother turning to look at Vegas. "Go ahead with the bar. Do whatever you want with it. It's yours."

He couldn't handle it. Mentally, he was done.