Aiah… Why am I doing this? I'm such a crummy writer wallows in despair this will probably be a depressing chapter, justsoyaknow.
"…and as the sun fell from the sky, the dark rider loosed his eternal arrow and all was lost in the deep abyss of nothingness from where it had originated …"
Master Cpl. Simmons shot his visitors a scathing look as he threw away the scrap of paper holding a meager poem. He sighed heavily, leaning forward on his mahogany desk, lashes drooping calmly. The only thoughts on his mind were of his family, of the morning hence when he chose the day's attire.
Purple cashmere shirt, black suit, polished shoes. Not too fancy, no, not too classy either as to not scare away business. He was completely company oriented as he lifted his pale green eyes to the men sitting athwart from his desk. Following, at sight of customers, his mathematical psyche took over, cross-referencing the looks in his mind.
That one there, on the right. Brown suit, careless, muffed shoes, a goon, slight protrusions in the waist and shoe area. This one was a hired freelance bodyguard. Cap over blondish hair, dark brown eyes shielded every few seconds; fear. His customer had made a careless choice in his men at arms.
Chuckling to himself robotically, Simmons leaned down and slammed the scrap of brownish paper on his desk, repeating the phrase. Then with a slight flick he shifted a blackish pebble lying aimlessly near his finger dangerously. The right-man-goon shifted nervously and Simmons grinned in triumph.
"What exactly is so hard about this, Carthian?" Simmons drawled carefully, leaning forward as to look intimidating. It didn't work.
"Mister Simmons… I cannot see why you …with your company and lovely shoes and lovely people can't make an a ah-…"
Carthian paused and lifted a plastic tube, pressing a button twice and inhaling deeply each time. His voice was gruff and slow like a comedic yarn of a gangster. He shifted his surprisingly thin form and coughed harshly.
"-an exception, as we are so close friends, my good sir," Carthian lifted his shoulders and cracked his neck, all the while grinning handsomely. He was a sight for sore eyes, Simmons lust reminded him.
"That you needn't remind me, Carthian. Honestly, though partner. How much insubordination can I take from your association?"
The handsome young man who was called Carthian scoffed and crossed, then uncrossed his legs impatiently. Less obvious was the slight twitch in his thin brows. Simmons laughed inwardly at the simplicity in reading his friend, while putting a harness on his desire.
"-but it was only-" He started, anger ringing in his voice and apparent in his alabaster eyes, shining with the light of the feeble lamp-
Simmons crossed himself and inwardly reprimanded ever bedding the young associate he knew as Carthian. It was the first mistake, doubting the legibility of a businessman.
"-No. You've caused enough trouble as it is, so just fix the problem" Simmons lifted his eyes menacingly as he said the aforementioned word. Carthian caught the hint and grinned, licking his lips delightfully with the tip of his tongue.
"As I see it, you and I've some…free time, my friend" Carthian twitched his feet and Simmons could see the lust, playful anxiety and desire in those familiar eyes. Oh, god how he wanted to. Wanted to with a passion in his loins he doubted had a name. –but business was business and pleasure was different. A carnal rule was never to mix the two, and that was one rule Simmons never violated. No matter how his ex-lover shifted his pants ever so slightly-
"Arg! You torment me so! No, I cannot do it Carthian. Maybe some other time. When we aren't threatened by a government agency that threatens to overtake the system"
Just speaking the words reminded Master Cpl. Simmons that he had only a mere three days to do away with this so called Haibane 003- and his lover. Why it was so he had no inkling, only that if he didn't the men in suits would overthrow the stocks and ruin him indefinitely.
So, after he got the word Carthian came to mind and his delicious grander was the only price to pay for his services. The night was one of bitter torture.