The Alibi Room.
"The Gallaghers just keep getting hit one thing after another," Dexter said seriously. "Kinda feels like someone's messing with them on purpose."
"Lip said the same thing," Kev replied, never suspecting that the guy responsible was sitting right across from him. "Maybe that's exactly what's going on."
"Do the Gallaghers have a lot of enemies?" Dexter asked casually.
Kev laughed. "You've met Frank Gallagher. You can probably imagine how many people he's pissed off over the years."
Dexter chuckled and nodded. "Yeah, I can picture it. Frank kind of has it coming. But what about Lip and Ian? Are they like him too?"
"No, no, not at all," Kev shook his head. "If they were, they'd be totally screwed. Lip and Ian are fine—well, aside from some occasional petty theft…"
He shrugged. "They're dirt poor, and this is the South Side. Everyone steals a little here and there. It's not a big deal."
Dexter didn't comment.
After all, what was there to say?
If he started judging, he'd just be condemning himself too.
"Then why would someone target Lip and Ian?" Dexter asked again.
"Who knows," Kev said. "Maybe they stole the wrong thing at the wrong time. Maybe they said something they shouldn't have… Lip's really smart, and smart people tend to be kind of arrogant. You know what I mean."
Dexter nodded.
"Lip's got an attitude," Kev continued. "The way he talks can really piss people off."
That was putting it nicely.
In America—a place where shootings happen daily and rednecks are everywhere—
With Lip's mouth?
Honestly, it's only because he lives in this neighborhood. Put him somewhere else—say Philly or Texas, somewhere a little rougher—and he'd be getting his ass kicked every few days.
"He really talks like that?" Dexter smiled. "Then yeah, that might explain it. Back where I'm from, there's a saying: you can eat whatever you want, but you can't say whatever you want."
"In fact, back home, a few hundred years ago during the feudal era, saying the wrong thing could get your head chopped off. Worst case? Your whole family."
Hearing that—
Kev, who was basically half-illiterate, was instantly shocked. "What? That's real? That extreme?"
"Not exaggerated at all."
"Tell me more," Kev said eagerly, topping off Dexter's drink. "I'm curious."
They had nothing better to do anyway.
So Dexter gave him a simple rundown.
Time flew by.
Before they knew it, night had fallen.
Dexter stepped out, grabbed a quick, forgettable dinner at some random place, then—having nothing else to do—headed back to the Alibi Room to kill some time before turning in.
What he didn't expect—
The moment he walked in and looked up—
Holy hell.
Frank was there.
Sitting in a wheelchair, swearing up a storm and drinking like nothing had happened.
Then he spotted Carl nearby, head tilted up at the TV…
Yeah.
No question about it—Carl had pushed Frank all the way here.
Dexter couldn't help laughing.
Honestly, Frank was kind of impressive in his own twisted way.
It felt like even if you turned the guy into a literal torso, he'd still find a way to roll in here and drink.
Damn.
Shaking his head, Dexter went over to Kev, ordered a drink, and picked a seat a little farther away from Frank.
He really didn't want to listen to Frank's nonstop preaching.
Those warped "life philosophies" were unbearable.
Unfortunately—
Word had gotten around the bar about what happened to Frank.
So naturally, Frank became the center of attention. A bunch of regular drunks crowded around him.
And, of course—
Frank was in rare form, ranting nonstop, spit flying everywhere.
"Frank, you should really tone it down," Jessie the bartender finally said after listening for a while. "If you keep running your mouth like that, don't be surprised if your arm gets broken next."
Frank scoffed, cocky as hell.
"Hey! I'd like to see that bastard try. That piece of shit only knows how to sneak around. If he's got the balls, let him come break my arm to my face—motherf—"
Frank kept shouting.
Dexter heard every word and grinned.
Alright.
As you wish.
Right arm it is.
I'll make sure you can't even wipe your own ass.
Frank's trash talk just kept getting uglier.
Jessie couldn't take it anymore. She shook her head helplessly and went back to work.
Just then—
Carl finished watching TV, turned around, spotted Dexter, and immediately walked over.
"Hey," Carl said. "You been doing anything bad lately?"
That's Carl for you.
Dexter laughed. "Yeah. Plenty."
"Oh?" Carl lit up. "Like what?"
"Can't really say," Dexter replied, suddenly getting an idea. "By the way, I don't think I ever caught your name."
"Carl. Carl Gallagher," Carl said right away.
"Oh? Frank Gallagher's kid?" Dexter asked, pretending not to know.
Carl nodded. "Yeah. What about you?"
"My name's Dexter," Dexter said with a smile. "Carl, you're a lot like me when I was a kid. You like paintball guns?"
At that—
Carl's eyes lit up instantly. "Yeah!"
"Then how about tomorrow? I'll buy two paintball guns and we'll go have some fun."
"Awesome!" Carl got excited. "What time?"
"What time do you get out of school?"
"Four. I don't even have to go to school!" Carl said without hesitation.
Honestly, whether Carl went to school or not made zero difference.
It's not like he studied—or was built for it.
But Dexter wasn't about to say that. "Then five o'clock. Come find me here. I'll buy you dinner, then we'll go play."
"Huh? That late?" Carl frowned impatiently. "What about four-thirty?"
Dexter shook his head with a smile. "I've got something to do before five."
"…Fine. Deal."
"Deal."
And just like that, Dexter and Carl started chatting.
Dexter even ordered a Coke from Kev for Carl.
One adult, one kid—talking and laughing like old friends.
---
At the same time—
Karen arrived at the Gallagher house and knocked on the door.
Because of Lip and Ian's condition, Fiona was staying home. She heard the knock and went to answer it.
The moment she opened the door—
Fiona instantly regretted it.
She tried to be polite. "Karen, this really isn't a good time for you to be here."
Karen understood what she meant. "I'm sorry. I just wanted to check on Lip. Once I see him, I'll leave."
Fiona wasn't the hardline type.
With Karen putting it that way…
Fiona felt like she couldn't refuse anymore and let her in. "Karen, I'm not trying to nag, but you can look and then you have to go. No more messing around, okay?"
Karen nodded obediently. "Okay, I understand. Where's Lip?"
"Upstairs," Fiona replied. Then, still uneasy, she added, "I'll take you."
They went upstairs and into Lip's room.
Lip was sitting on the lower bunk, leaning against the wall, staring off into space.
When he saw Karen, he smiled. "Karen."
"Are you okay?" she asked softly.
Lip grinned like it was nothing. "It's not a big deal. I'll be fine in a few days."
Then he turned to Fiona. "Fiona, why are you still here?"
He was clearly telling her to leave.
"…," Fiona sighed. She was helpless, but felt she owed Lip some respect. After hesitating a moment, she turned and went downstairs.
Karen didn't move. She waited until Fiona was fully downstairs before gently closing the bedroom door.
A short while later—
After some small talk—
"You won't be able to move much for a few days," Karen said quietly. "Want me to help you?"
Ian wasn't in the room.
Lip didn't hesitate. He nodded immediately.
Karen said nothing more and knelt down.
---