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"You don't die all at once. Not anymore. These days you die a little at a time."  
-- Lawrence Block
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[b]St. Paul's Catholic Church[/b]


"Thank you for sharing tonight, Digger."

Digger Harkness looked up from his cup of coffee at the woman. The basement of the church was where they held their weekly meetings. Everyone had cleared out for the night and gone home, but Digger always hung around until the very end. He and the woman, Sheri is what she called herself, were the only ones left tonight. 

"You've been coming a month now and you've made some real progress on your addiction. Most people want to laugh and make jokes when they think of sex addiction, but you've stuck to the program and made real progress."

To Digger, it was easy to see why Sherry, with her short frame and curvy figure, was a sex addict. She was made for sex, and if Digger had his way he would but her through the ringer to prove it. He had to suppress a wicked grin at that thought.

"It's hard," he said sheepishly. "The temptation is all around us, in the media and in everyday life, to give in and seek that pleasure. It feels so good that... all you want to do is chase it."

"Right," Sheri nodded and took his hand. "But you have to resist those urges."

"I know," he said with a sigh. "No matter how much you want to just bend some woman over and just rail her brains out over and over and over and over again... I mean, to give it to her so good that she screams your name and quivers like jelly."

He began to pull Sheri in closer as he spoke more about what he would like to do. They were close, their lips close together, when someone behind them cleared their throat.

"Digger," Lenny Snart said with a smirk. "Time to go home."

"Good idea," Sheri said, snapping out of her trance. "Good night!"

She hurried off, leaving Digger alone with Snart.

"Cockblocker!"

"Scumbag," Snart replied. "Going to a sex addict support group and trying to get laid, what the hell is wrong with you?"

Digger shrugged and smiled. "Low hanging fruit, mate. It's like shooting fish in a barrel. You should try it the next time Heatwave doesn't want to put out. Now, why are you here? And don't say it's to protect my honor or virtue--"

"We both you have neither, Harkness. We've taking a drive."


---


Digger and Snart watched the action from inside Snart's beaten up Impala across the street. The house they were watching sat on the edge of town in Keystone City. Digger stifled a yawn and checked the clock on the dashboard. It was coming up on six hours since they started the stakeout. The ashtray was filled with cigarette butts from Snart. The guy smoked like a chimney, something Digger could never understand. He had his own vices for sure, but smoking was never one of them. 

"There's number six," Digger said as another car pulled up to the house and a passenger rushed towards the door. After a few moments, something passed between the courier and whoever was behind the door before the courier headed back to the car and got in. "One an hour at this point."

"This is it, Harkness," Snart said with a grin, the first time he'd showed something past contempt all night. "All these stops. Sometime in the early morning, someone is going to come out that house with a package and they'll be driven to a bank where a safe deposit box or something is waiting for him."

Digger whistled. "If this is cash they're running a courier route for, think about how much we can get by going into that house just before the final cash run and making off with it."

"Fuck that," Snart said. "This is chickenshit. The Top controls crime through this part of the Midwest, probably as far up as Fargo. Think about how many courier routes there are across the state and several states. I don't want one route, I want the mother lode. I want the bank that holds it and stores it."

"Stealing from the Top," Digger said mostly to himself. "That's dangerous for your health, mate."

"So are these," Snart said, stubbing out a cigarette butt. "But I keep smoking. And besides, if we steal from the Top what's he going to do? Call the cops on us?"

"Naah. Just cut off all our genitals and let us bleed out."

"Good thing you don't have any genitals, right?" 

"Right," Digger said with a chuckle. "So we taking this idea to the table?"

"We are. Time for a family meeting."