A small satchel fell over the top of the couch that Angel had sat on and landed on the cushion next to where she was sitting.

"Open it." Deon said. He was standing behind the couch, and now that he had dropped the satchel next to his leader he folded his bare, muscular arms over his broad chest, the scarification of the red, bloody hand looking prominent on his right arm bicep; more-so than his sleeve of tribal tattoos going down his left bicep.

Inside the satchel was a bundle of twenty-dollar bills, all rolled up and adding up to two-hundred and twenty dollars, however the look on his hardened face didn't give into the fact that he looked pleased with his impressive haul. Instead, his golden eyes looked down on Angel from behind her in a cold stare, the thick, eight inch scar cutting up through his left eyebrow and wrapping over past his left ear making his stare look that much more cold, almost seeming to stare Angel down just as much as his eyes were.

"You should have had backup." He said after a long pause, letting his arms unfold and rested his hands on the back of the couch, leaning forward to be able to talk with Angel closer. "That meeting you just had with pistol boy, that could have ended badly for you. I spotted you heading to the carnival on my way back with that." He said gesturing to the satchel of money, explaining to how he knew about it. "As much as I wouldn't mind seeing your brains plastered all over the street, I'd be pissed that it wasn't because of me." He went on and cracked a smile, a very subtle hint to those that knew him that he was voicing a small bit of concern about her daring move.

He let his right hand up from the back of the couch and ran his fingers through the small patch of unshaved hair on the top of his head and pulled himself the rest of the way away from the couch, stooping down to pick up a bottle of Whiskey that he had set down just before he dropped the satchel of money on the couch.

"Oh, by the way..." He said turning, taking a few steps backwards as he was still facing Angel but still walking away. "There [i]was[/i] two-fifty, but I had something very important to pick up for myself." He raised the whiskey bottle and cracked a smile. "So if we got nothing going on for the rest of today, and you don't feel like any more suicide missions that I have to watch your ass over, then I'll be in my room."

Technically, Deon didn't really have a room. No one did, but with Deon's personality, intimidation, brute strength and all-around 'I don't give a fuck' outlook on life, it was pretty easy for him to take a section of the warehouse and make it perfectly clear that it was his territory, and not many in the Wolves dared to challenge that.

"Feel free to join me Angel Baby, I could use a massage for all my hard work." He added on with a wink.