Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick..

The tiny metallic hands moved in unison with natural rhythms. Where mother nature stopped, technology took over. The sun reflected off the glass and forced Seraph to squint. He'd been lost in the hands of time. The newly acquired pocket watch kept him busy whilst his accomplices worked on keeping them all out of prison.

"Hey, stop fuckin' about with that and help me already. We don't got much time."

Paulie never had any time. He'd always be rushing from this thing to that. If only he knew it wasn't something he could have, even if he tried. He pulled at the leg of one of the bodies. A shoe popped off which got him in even more of a tiff.

"You fuckn listenin' or what? You actin' like you never seen a watch before you schmuck. Fuckn help me already, will ya? They aint gonna move themselves."

Desmond looked over his shoulder, letting his focus waver for a moment. He simply wanted to acknowledge Paulie. He didn't want to ignore him completely. He was a little off in his own world, a little out of it, but not entirely an asshole.

Would he help him though? Absolutely not. If he kept complaining? Fuck no. Everyone had to pull their weight and if that meant Paulie threw around the dead bodies, so be it. Desmond already did his part. And he found the bitching comical.

With a smirk, the Broadway Mob associate turned back to what he was holding in his hand. A silver pocket watch he found on one of the victims. It wasn't anything special. No fancy design or rare commodity. No hefty price tag. At least to his eye.

But in those moments, the open space he found himself in, it was captivating. He didn't know why. He just couldn't help but get caught up in the inner workings of the small marvel he had between his fingertips. He was watching time, the hands of it, the very seconds of it, ticking by.

And besides the sounds the bodies were making as Paulie dragged them to the back of the church, he could also hear it. Each tick. Each moment just floating on by. Desmond felt intertwined with the very fabric of life in as much as he could comprehend it through connecting with this little ingenious human creation.

He'd done his part. He'd talked his way into the house of God and into the confessional. He'd kept the pastor busy as Sammy made short work of their intended mark.

He'd let loose a tale of sin and asked his forgiveness. A true inner demon that was yet to be told to hit the road. The truest truths were much more captivating, and easier to tell. And once his job was done, Sammy then helped the residing father of the church on home too.

It was funny to Desmond how life, or the ending of it, put things into perspective. Especially the moments after one had been taken. Things seemed so simple, so precious, so damn clear. He always found peace in the moments that followed death. Even if he was just a witness, just a helper.

"It's done. Let's go, Sammy is waiting."

Paulie's voice cracked a whip and snapped Desmond back from his time away. The blood stain on the clockface made it even more real. It was now back to reality. Back to moments of being, but not truly being here. Back to work. Back to surviving. Back to disconnected connections. Back to the grind.

Seraph slid the watch into his pocket then hurried out of the back door of the church to join the others. It was a successful job, in more ways than one.

Sometimes there wasn't enough of it. But if you stopped long enough, even amongst the chaos, you could get a glimpse of it. Not time itself, but the very heartbeat of that which made it all possible. Call it what you will.

Desmond prefered to just leave words out of it. Because to him, the experience of it was all that mattered. Because in that place, that space, all was as it should be. Death and life, they didn't matter. All that mattered was.. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick..