Seamus' perspective:
Seamus was eating with his brother, Keane, when he realised that he needed to go to the merchants to get more supplies. He knew of one, Toby? he thought, or was it Torby?
Either way, he needed the supplies. Keane's old enough to look after himself now, he though, or, more precisely, hoped. Seamus couldn't keep bringing Keane to get supplies with him. Not when sometimes he had to get bullets, and knives. Seamus felt guilty, he hadn't been the best role model to his younger brother. He wouldn't be a good role model to anyone, not when he killed people for a living. He had gone through shirts like he had gone through cans of food. There was no reliable way to clean blood out of his clothes, especially when cleaning supplies were, unsurprisingly, running low. He hugged his brother goodbye, like he had done everyday. They were each other's only family, and knew that they might never see each other again. He would have to go along the red line to get to Union Station, and the merchant, but it wouldn't take too long.
Keane's perspective:
Keane sat on the floor with his brother, on a blanket that Seamus had gotten a few weeks ago. The blanket was already stained with brine, and different flavours of soup. Seamus got up, but his can of food in the bin, and hugged him goodbye. Keane knew exactly where he was going. He needed to get more supplies from the merchant in Union Station. Specifically, ammo for his gun. Keane knew it was low because he remembered the combination lock for Seamus' ammo box, and had seen that morning before Seamus had woken up. Of course, Seamus did not know this, Keane had looked whilst Seamus was unlocking his ammo box. Whilst Seamus liked to keep it a secret, Keane knew exactly what Seamus did for a living. He was a hit man, someone paid to take out your enemies. Keane always had this in the back of his mind, wondering what would happen if someone didn't like him. Seamus would never hurt me, he thought. However, Keane always flinched a bit when he saw Seamus with his silenced pistol, or knife.
He remembered a time, when Seamus had been hired to dispatch someone by slicing his throat. Keane had been in the house, but Seamus thought he was out getting food. The merchant had been closed, so Keane was back much earlier than Seamus thought. He was in the bedroom, and Seamus had dragged his victim into the makeshift house, and slit his throat, as slowly as he could. And, for a moment, Keane thought that he saw a smile on Seamus' face, as if he was actually enjoying it, getting pleasure out of killing his target.
But Keane put that thought out of his mind, as he got dressed into clothes he could go into the station with.