A/n: Rated because Monty and Claquey swear. A lot. In French. A note that these French phrases were got off some website, and are actually more like French ebonics than argot, so don't try to translate them literally. I digress. Yeah, it's short.
This night, there was one less devil's dandy and one less masked shadow perusing the streets. Instead, they found themselves somewhere within the labyrinth of the city, in a dank, grimy flat on a ramshackle bed. The two were in dangerously close proximity; Montparnasse lay flat on his stomach, Claquesous kneeling directly above him. Those within several yards of the flat would have been suddenly struck by a bloodcurdling shriek.
"Merde!"
Claquesous recieved a kick smartly to the jaw, to which he responded by sending Montparnasse through another bout of pain
"Just take it out, you enculé!" Growling, Montparnasse buried his face in the threadbare pillow and faced the stench of mildew, teeth grinding to brace the rising agony. However, a small part of Claquesous' mind was greatly enjoying the total control he now wielded over Montparnasse, and it was much more satisfying to watch the younger man squirm than heed to his cries.
"One catches more bees with honey than vinegar," Claquesous preached as he took another jab, digging deeper this time. A shudder overtook Montparnasse's body as he felt blood drip down the back of his calf.
"Va te faire foutre."
More digging from Claquesous, with malicious purpose. By this time Montparnasse had made taught every muscle in his body, and the sound of his grating teeth was now audible to the one above him. A slight cackle came from the masked shadow as he continued his work, of which did not last for very long before there was an utterance of "Merde."
"What is it now?"
"It's not coming out."
A vibrant stream of words escaped Montparnasse, but Claquesous could do nothing besides dig further and be flailed by the pain-ridden dandy's legs. More blood began to stream down Montparnasse's calf and began to pool on the sheets before be swallowed up by the rough fibers. The next several minutes crawled by painfully, with no change in the situation beside the volume of Montparnasse's screaming. At last:
"It's out." Ignoring the yowling from Montparnasse, Claquesous examined the blood-stained bullet he had extracted from the dandy's leg. "Jesus, that was in there deep."
"I would love it if you would get off me."
The masked shadow complied and discarded of the bullet by tossing it at Montparnasse. As he wiped the blood off his knife, he offered, "Next time, try not getting shot. Idiot."
A/n: What the hell were YOU thinking of? What dirty minds you have.