He always disliked the idea of a hands-off approach to death. Explosives, drugs, poisons, even guns all had their uses at times, but they were too impersonal. Too clean for his taste.

There was something so intimate when it was just him and them together. He could never quite explain that rush, that raw power he feels when they were completely at his mercy. From the initial struggle to those final, tender moments when he'd sit beside them and watch the light slowly leave their eyes.

It was amazing.

But despite his best efforts, some of his victims never get to experience that connection. Like Gomez Addams for example. His death would have to be quick just to get him out of the way. He certainly didn't want to risk taking both, and his client needed some compensation at least.

He couldn't think of another alternative for the Addams man on the walk home. Certainly not while someone kept blowing up his phone while he was trying to think. They were ignored, of course, until he made himself comfortable on his couch.

Like clockwork, his phone buzzed for the 27th time on the countertop. He let it ring once, twice, three times before picking up. "Yes?"

"Has something gone wrong?" His client's voice was laced with panic.

"Hmm?"

"I-I saw them, Mr Hansen. That idiot Gomez Addams is still chipper as ever. Why is she still alive?"

"Oh yes. Don't worry, Phill, I'm keeping Mrs Addams around for a bit longer."

There was a pause on the other end followed by a slight rustle. "But you made it clear the last we spoke that tonight was the best date."

He was starting to get bored by this conversation. "I did. But don't worry my friend, the Addams couple will be disposed of within the coming weeks-"

"Wait. Wait. Wait. You're being paid to dispose of Morticia Addams. What is this change of plan?"

He sighed, befuddled by the older man's stupidity. If he were to renege on killing his newest pet then he'd at least understand the outrage. But arguing over the killing of her and her husband for the same price? What an ungrateful, spiteful little man. "I suppose you deserve to know. Mrs Addams will be disposed of as you requested-"

"And Gomez?" Phill urged.

"-Will be dead tomorrow night. I enjoy you Phill, but please don't interrupt me, " he said. "I mean really, I'm doing you a favor here. Two heads for the price of one and all your worries will be gone. What more could you ask for?"

"Some gratification," he growled. "I've been playing victim to Gomez Addams for too goddamn long. I want to wake up every morning knowing he's still locked up in that house, grieving over his wife. And I want to go to bed every night knowing he's still having nightmares over it."

Phill's absurdity tonight was giving him a headache. While vengeance was always sweet, the amount of false pride this man possessed kept him totally blind from his real problems. And now he had to play teacher to this contemptuous man-child?

"I admire your bloodlust, but your plan is full of holes. Listen. You want to cripple Gomez Addams, sure. But how long will that take? You said it yourself it took the man nearly 25 years to start giving up on his brother. You wanted me to disfigure her, make her unrecognizable. Gomez will use that edge to be in a state of denial for so long, constantly trying to search for the love of his life. Are you willing to deal with that? No, instant gratification would be knowing you successfully toppled the heads of the family with one swing."

There was a long pause on the other end and for a moment he thought the older man dared to hang up on him. Seconds ticked by and he heard a sniff, and short footsteps before Phill let out a watery laugh.

"I think you're right, Mr Hansen," he said. "You're-You're right. I never thought about it in that way."

"Of course i'm right, Phill. Hopefully, in the future, you'll start trusting people that are trying to help you instead of getting defensive."

"Yes. But tell me, what's in this for you exactly?" Phill's whisper hardly hid the accusatory tone in his voice.

"Officially it's to help you find the true root of your problems. With my tweaks, you'll never have to deal with the Addams' again. Nobody, not even those freaks would want to live in that house knowing their loved ones are dead. It would be too painful for them to deal with. The brother will disappear again, the crone would probably die from grief and those kids would be abandoned or adopted. You get to live for the rest of your life looking at that decaying house. Hell, you could use your powers to demolish it if you want!"

"And unofficially?"

He grinned, "My ex-wife always did say gothic women are my biggest weakness."

He knew Phill wanted to say something about that but dropped it. Instead, he hesitated, before asking where he fit in with the new plan.

"You're on a roll today, did you know that? But I do need something of you, actually. Gomez Addams will be killed sometime between late tomorrow night and early Friday morning depending on how interesting the night gets. I will need a van to pick up Mrs Addams within the next few days. Have it be black, preferably soundproof, and parked exactly two corners away from Mistral's Bar tomorrow at 6 pm. I know you have the money and connections to make that happen," he added.

"Are you sure this new plan will get rid of the Addams family once and for all?"

"Positive."

"Then I'll do you one better," he sighed. "Only the two of them will be at home tomorrow night. If you get in and do your...business, I'll leave the van hidden behind the house so you can make your leave."

"That's perfect, Phill, absolutely perfect! Look at you finally thinking about long-term goals."

On the other end, Phill laughed, but he picked up on his nervousness. "Don't be so hesitant, Phill.

"I'm not. It's just- you said they'll be disposed of in the coming weeks, but Gomez will be dead by tomorrow. How long will you be keeping her captive?"

"Oh no friend, don't think those thoughts. Morticia Addams will be disposed of soon. Don't worry about it, hmm?"

The absolute nerve of this senile old man to question him. He despised the false morality and hypocrisy the most. How could this man suddenly feel sympathy over a whore he had no qualms about defacing just a few minutes ago.

"I-Alright sure."

"Perfect. It was a pleasure working with you, Phill. Looking forward to getting that van tomorrow," he said before hanging up.

He kept the easy smile he'd practiced before pushing through the frosted double doors. Mistral's bar was a lot like the bistro from yesterday. The same type of people, food and music.

"Mr Hansen," someone called, and he almost missed it. He followed the voice beyond the orchestra to a small private booth near the stairs. And in it sat Gomez Addams.

He smoothed invisible wrinkles out of his immaculate suit before pushing past the main area to the somewhat quieter, more intimate corner. He'd never been in this area before, but he thought it suited him just fine. It was a line of four large, consecutive private booths and they were the only occupants. The general noise of chatter faded, and he had a fantastic view of the large selection of liquor at the bar. The place smelled expensive. The seats were made of hardwood with leather cushioning and velvet curtains framed the booth for extra privacy.

"Mr Addams." He shook his hand. "Good to see you."

"Ah yes, Likewise Mr Hansen," Gomez replied, gesturing to the adjacent seat.

"Sorry i'm late. Traffic kept me-"

Gomez interrupted him with a slight raise of his hand. And though he was quick to school his features into a look of slight confusion, his contempt at the interruption instantly soured him to the Castilian man.

"Nonsense, old man! I only arrived a few minutes before you," he said. "And please, call me Gomez, yes?"

His false smile was brilliant, and his fingers curled around the ends of his blonde hair in thought. "Of course. But it really would be terrible to call you Gomez while you still refer to me as Mr Hansen," he chuckled. "It'll have to be Julian to you, then."

Gomez raised his hand in mock surrender. "Fair enough, Julian."

Before any more words could be exchanged, their waiter approached.

"You'll order for us both. On the house, of course."

He couldn't mask the look of surprise that crossed his features. Was Gomez Addams truly as big a profligate fool as his client suggested? Perhaps he should test that theory.

"I couldn't. I was the one who ran into you, after all."

Gomez waved a dismissive hand. "And what type of man would I be to invite you out and make you pay? Please, I insist."

He smirked, addressing the waiter but never letting his eyes leave Gomez. "Get me two tumblers, some shot glasses, ice, and a bottle of your oldest Scotch."

It was all but confirmed, both his suspicions and his newfound disdain for the other man. Perhaps he should steal some of his money along with his wife.

Gomez Addams was a wealth of knowledge. The man was so flamboyant and expressive, almost like a living encyclopedia on nonverbal cues, and he was getting addicted to it.

Gomez would tell him stories about his brother and his life, and his expressions were so rich, he couldn't help but analyze every detail to remember for later. They were nearly halfway through their first bottle and it was getting awfully late. But still, he couldn't help but keep the Castilian around for just a bit longer.

As a companion, however, Gomez was charismatic and good-humored but naive. He still despised the man, but he made for decent company for the while.

So when the clock struck 10 pm, he decided to delay the inevitable for a little while longer and pour them another glass while continuing another racy story about his escapades in Greece.

Gomez snickered when he finished. "Julien you little devil, how do you even possess the stamina to keep going for five days?"

"I'll give you a secret," he said, leaning over the table semi conspiratorially. "Greek women are animals in bed. They kept me motivated!"

They shared a laugh, and Gomez tipped his glass out of respect, "Cheers to your stamina. And wow, five days! Tish and I never lasted quite that long."

His ears perked up at that.

"You and your wife are hosting orgies as well? For a second I thought you were vanilla, but it seems you've been holding out on me."

"Oh no never an orgy but with another person, yes. Although we haven't done that for years now."

He almost didn't want to believe his luck. Once again the universe was giving him a delicious opportunity in more ways than one.

"Would it be awfully inappropriate of me to ask why you two stopped?"

Gomez hesitated for a moment before reaching into his pant pocket. "You might find me silly for this, but I've always been a jealous man."

He took out his wallet and produced a creased black and white picture of Morticia Addams and slid it across the table.

He only needed to examine it for a moment before handing it back. "I caught a glimpse of her last night. She's very beautiful."

"Yes, most people think so too." Gomez put the picture in his breast pocket and shared a faint smile. "Inviting outside parties never quite work out for us. I could never cope with sharing for very long."

"I know what you mean." He did actually. Since he was a child he'd always been very territorial of his things. He had vivid memories of his mother trying to discipline it out of him, but it only worsened in adulthood. Of course, he knew better than to think Gomez actually considered Morticia to be his property. The man was obsessed with her happiness. "It's disappointing but understandable. And I'm sure the two of you had a mutual understanding."

"We did! But I just feel so terrible and selfish about it, old man," he exclaimed. "Ah! Now look who's being inappropriate."

"Speak your mind, friend. I'm here to help."

Gomez's 5-minute rant was as overly dramatic as he thought. By nature, the man was very neurotic, wasting all his free time to dwell over anything he felt even mildly guilty over. The true extent of his obsession with maintaining his wife's happiness wasn't that surprising either.

But still, he sat and listened through the entire thing. And only when Gomez began to wind down, he spoke.

"Gomez, trust me when I say that you're not the problem here, so no need to be upset. The problem is the third party. They don't match up to your energy and that's why they feel left out."

Gomez seemed a bit puzzled. "That could be, but perhaps not fully?"

"Of course that's it. And do you know what else I think? " He leaned over the table and locked eyes. "I think you enjoy it. You're voyeuristic by nature and that's okay," he said, waving a careless hand.

Gomez seemed to consider it but wasn't fully convinced. He pounced on that opportunity.

"Let me show you that I'm right."

"How?"

"How else?"

Gomez laughed, pouring another glass. "You can't be serious!"

"Why not? We all have something to gain from this, after all."

"Which is?

Oh, he was so glad Gomez asked. He downed the rest of his drink, not even feeling the burn, and raised his hand into a fist. "For one, I get to prove that i'm right that you two haven't found the right partner, that is if I don't get kicked out early. Two, your wife gets a sweet little surprise gift for abstaining for so long." He counted on his fingers. "Three, You-" he punctuated with a finger toward Gomez's chest, "get to enjoy that kink you refuse to acknowledge. And finally," he raised his arms, "I get compensated for my ruined shirt."

The space between them was silent, and the background noise seemed to fade out. Gomez looked at him with an expression he could only describe as unreadable. Still, he was fully convinced the other man couldn't resist the temptation.

Gomez pursed his lips. "You might not be her type."

'I'm everybody's type.'

He smirked. "Call her then. To confirm."

Gomez blew out a sigh and stood up. "Excuse me, " he said and went for the restroom.

It took a good 10 minutes, but Gomez walked back with a phone dangling between his fingers. He smiled, not even needing to hear the confirmation, and poured them both one last glass for the road.

"Don't worry, friend," he said with a clap on the shoulder, "Tonight is going to be amazing."

"I hope you're right."