I decided. This story begins about six months before the events of the movie, give or take. Other characters will show up far before then. In fact, next chapter. Also, let me know mistakes or way to improve keeping in character for everyone, gracias mucho.

FRENCH WORDS IN THIS CHAPTER: quite a few are cuss words. fun. anyways- monsieur is mister, or sir. oui is yes. Merde is the expletive sh*t or damn. Putain means whore, but it is used pretty much exactly how we use f*ck. Mon Dieu is My God. Casse-toi means f*ck off, or a really mean bugger off. Merci is thanks. L'ombre is shadow.

Baron Samedi is a voodoo loa/spirit who looks a lot like Facilier, so its speculated that the Baron is one of his spirits of choice. Samedi means saturday, for what it's worth.

I thought it'd be more useful to put that at the top of the chapter, than bottom. And I dont know why I censor the curse words here, they're not down below. XD

The rich boy didn't show up that day, and Facilier wasn't dragging that saxophone case out with his table a second time. It was too troublesome to keep an eye on everything. Thanks to his constant wariness of others, none of his customers ever succeeded in being slick-fingered with him.

Another day was gone, and Facilier had hoisted everything home and finished putting all objects in their proper places. He flopped onto a chair and peeled off his coat, tossing it to the side. His shadow removed his hat, placing it on the table. Afterward it shifted around, bored, restless. Facilier hung his head back, staring at the ceiling.

The shadow was making little noises at Facilier, pestering him for fun. That could mean many different things. Facilier sat up, rubbing his face.

"Let's see what's up at Dallie's."

Dallie's was a club down in the area of New Orleans where people of his caliber and lower lingered. And it was entirely free of tourists. Shadow clucked its approval.

...

When Facilier entered Dallie's, he was greeted by nods and wary glares. He liked Dallie's because he knew he was respected there. Feared. Facilier's shoes crunched on peanut shells and little frog bones left on the floor by patrons. The bartender, Feno, greeted him.

"Ey, Shadowman, what's it ta be tah-night?"

"Something real strong." Facilier sat at the bar, and looked at him. "Use your imagination. I need relaxin' after a hot day."

Feno moved around taking bottles and mixing. He was in his sixties, and on the heavy side…his wife cooked rich dishes. Feno looked at Facilier as he set the glass down.

"We's not gonna have trouble like the last time, are we?"

Last time Facilier got into a fight with a patron and his shadow dragged the man outside, screaming, without Facilier's command. No one knew what happened, not even Facilier. It scared a lot of folks, and almost got calls for the police from the noise. No one in the club dared report- what white police man would believe someone like them talking about shadows draggin' folk off into the night? They might just get themselves thrown in the loony bin.

"No, Monsieur, no trouble for a friend of Dr. Facilier." Facilier turned his violet eyes onto his shadow, "Ain't that right?"

Feno started when the shadow hummed in response.

"W-well, alrigh'. 'Long as we got that clear." He moved away to chat with patrons that didn't make his skin goosebump.

Facilier took the tall glass of whatever-the-hell it was and drank. The burn along his tongue and in his throat spread across his face, feeling too right for words. Feno had some magic stuff, because half-way through he was feeling buzzed and pleasantly disconnected from his body and the room. He didn't want to talk to anyone, just sit and observe. Pretend for a while he was just a pair of eyes, and didn't exist at all. Facilier turned to look over the room.

His eyes were drawn to him immediately, he couldn't be missed. The saxophone player. He wasn't the only white fella there, but definitely the cleanest. And that hair would mark him anywhere.

"Hey Sax-Man!" Facilier called, words coming a little slower than normal.

Ross was playing cards and drinking with a sailor and two other musicians, but he heard Facilier, and turned his head. He raised a brow.

"Well, if it isn't the good Doctor!" Ross laughed. "I think I should say hello," he looked at his table mates, who shook their heads no. "don't you guys think I should say hello?" He stood up, not waiting for an answer.

Facilier watched Ross pick up his winnings and stuff them in his pockets. The sailor grabbed onto him.

"Ey, man, whatchu doin'? Don't go on socializin' wif tha' damn Shadowman."

His other tablemates protested.

"You ain't done playin' wif us!"

Ross plucked the sailors hands off him, staring at him a moment. The sailor sat back down, mumbled something then crossed himself.

"Whatever I put in the center can stay, you fellas keep it." Ross said.

"Aw com'on, Ross, you don' wanna sit wid'at borin' fella ova' there."

"Serious talk kid, you don' wanna mess wid'a Shadowman!"

Ross nodded, and walked over to the bar anyway. The three left at the table sat down slowly, as if they were expecting Ross to drop dead any moment. Ross held out his hand to Facilier, lop-sided smile on his face.

"Dr. Facilier, good to see you. Is this a place you frequent?"

Facilier smirked, seeing Feno and the others taking subtle glances at the young man in front of him who called The Shadowman by name. He took Ross' hand, and shook it.

"Oui, it most surely is. Why dontchu go on and have yuhself a seat. I…" Facilier was disoriented a bit as Ross took the stool beside him, and he refocused his gaze onto the yellow eyes now close by. "I got yuh saxophone case. I want it outta my place tonight."

"Sure thing, Doctor." Ross turned to Feno, who was standing near to see if he wanted a drink, and he did. "Mr. Feno, would you please give me the bottle of…Isobene Bourbon?"

"The whole bottle?" Feno looked at Facilier. "Is yer friend right in the head?"

Facilier shrugged.

"Don't you worry, I have money for it right…" Ross pulled out the appropriate amount of coin, putting it on the bar top. "Right here."

"Yes, sir…" Feno shook his head, took the money and brought the bottle back.

"Would you like something, Doc?" Ross asked.

"Nah, well, maybe another glass of the stuff from before, eh- Feno?"

"Yes, yes, whatever he had, here you go." Ross put up more money.

Feno rolled his eyes and made another mixed glass for Facilier.

"Ey- did y'all just roll yuh eyes at me?" Facilier raised his voice. "Do y'all find me funny?" He slapped a hand on the bar top, the club became quiet.

"Aw, who cares if he did. Calm down." Ross said.

"Hush fool-" Feno said. To Facilier, after setting down his glass; "I'm real sorry, I was jus' thinkin' 'bout somethang ma wife was goin' on about the other day."

"No you wasn't- now y'all's lyin to me!"

Ross opened the bottle, pulling the cork out with his fingers (unnoticed, as all eyes were on Facilier). He watched with bored eyes a moment, then took a long drink.

"I don' wan' no trouble, lez jus' forget 'bout this and enjoy the evenin'." Feno said.

The rest of the club was holding their breath, pretending not to watch, yet all their attention focused on Facilier. Facilier smashed his first emptied glass on the floor, then reached across the bar to clutch Feno's collar. The shadow was swirling lazily on the ceiling, grinning at those who looked up.

"Don't you order me around, fat-man. Facilier don' ever forget!"

A bottle cork hit Facilier right on the nose, and bounced off onto the floor.

Everyone's eyes, including Facilier and Feno, swiveled onto Ross. They were openly gawking now.

"Are y'all drunk stupid?" Feno whispered frantically.

Ross was laughing hysterically, holding the bourbon in one hand by the neck, the other slapped his knee. He took another swig. The shadow on the ceiling trembled then let out it's own howling laughter. Facilier let go of Feno, who backed up against the wall. Facilier looked up.

"Y'all's a goddamn traitor!" Facilier shouted at the ceiling. Shadow quieted down, but everyone could still hear it snickering. Those near the door began to quietly slip out, afraid for the idiot sitting next to the witchdoctor. "And YOU." He snapped at Ross, who chuckled.

"Doctor, I came here for a good time." Ross said. "You need to…" he paused, raising a brow. "Calm the fuck down."

Ross held his serious face for a second before busting into hysterics again.

Facilier snapped himself and started laughing, he sat back down and they were both in tears before finally quieting down. Facilier began drinking the second glass, now mellowed out. Feno shivered and retired to the back room. The rest of the club, gals and guys, looked at each other, then went back to their card games and gossip. Of course, one half of an ear still trained on the witchdoctor and crazy sax player.

"Y'all are a dumb fuck." Facilier said.

Ross laughed.

"Well, it worked didn't it?"

"I'm thinkin' I'm still gonna kill y'all for that." Facilier looked at Ross.

"Good luck." Ross smiled, cocky. "I would love to see you try."

On the word love Ross leaned close, tongue and lips overemphasizing, pausing one beat before continuing the sentence. In other words he said it like a dare and invitation. Facilier was feeling very clumsy now, again halfway through a glass, and didn't care what Ross meant. The shadow was collapsed on the floor, curled around Facilier's stool, a low hum coming from it. In the tune of a bar song.

"I bought some cigars, want one? Promise they're good." Ross said.

"Yeah, light it up for me while y'all's at it." Facilier said.

Facilier watched Ross fumbling slowly as he got out the cigars from a box in his coat, pulled out a lighter and struggled to flick the lighter right. Drunk, Facilier noted. Ross finally handed him a lit cigar, and Facilier puffed away, satisfied.

"Say, these are some damn fine cigars." Facilier said. Ross nodded.

They sat in silence, smoking. Drinking. They would glance at each other with hazy eyes, taking empty observations. Facilier looked at Ross again and saw half of his bottle was empty. He felt a little stunned, as most people he knew would've been passed out by that point. Ross was nowhere near sober, though.

"Y'all look like a woman with all that dark hair." Facilier said, still staring. "Why donch'all cut it off?"

Ross looked at him, cigar hanging out the side of his mouth. One arm rested atop the bar.

"My lovers like it spread across their pillows." He smiled, wistfully. "They say it reminds them of spilled ink."

"Women all seem to lean towards poeticism, don' they now?" Facilier mused.

Ross smirked, brow raised. It seemed he purposely refrained from responding. Facilier drained the last of his glass, feeling hot all over his body. He felt restless now. He spoke again.

"Say, pretty boy, how 'bout I show you 'round the city." He stood up clumsily. "A Dr. Facilier Tour of the Crescent City."

"Sure thing, witchdoctor."

They linked arms and walked out together, everybody watching them exit. Shadow slinked on the floor behind them.

…...

Facilier groaned, morning light irritating his eyes. The light entered through the only window on his property, which was in his private quarters above his bed. His brain and eyes throbbed.

"Merde…" He sat up and rubbed his face.

Then he noticed the arm lying across his lap.

His eyes bugged out.

"PUTAIN!"

Facilier flung the arm off him and got off the bed, looking around for his clothes. The arm's owner, Ross, rolled over. He stayed asleep, surprisingly. Facilier snatched his pants off the floor and began jerking them back on.

He looked back at Ross, when he had firmly secured his trousers back on. Facilier slumped into an old, upholstered chair nearby. Ross' black hair was spread everywhere, he was sprawled over the bed, a purple satin sheet twisted around his legs and waist…not entirely covering everything. Mon dieu. Last night started pouring into his brain.

Dr. Facilier's "tour" turned into a bee-line to the Emporium and the back room, where…things happened. And now, he had a hang-over.

"Hey…" Facilier said. What was the fella's name again? Raw…Ross. "Hey ROSS."

Ross blinked his eyes, rubbed his face. His eyes trailed over to Facilier, seeing him, he propped himself up. He didn't seem the least bit shocked or fazed.

"Mmmm yes? Good morning."

"Get the hell outta my bed."

"Well, shit, make me feel welcome."

Ross got up, stretching and pulling the sheet off from around him. He found his shirt and pants easily, pulling them on and buttoning everything up. He left his suspenders dangling and his shirt partially tucked. Facilier had his head in his hands.

"Don't beat yourself up. This happens a lot." Ross said with a shrug.

"I ain't. My head feels like I smacked it on a brick."

Facilier looked at Ross from between his fingers, and saw that he was now standing in front of him, hands on hips, shaking his head with a sly smile on his face. He felt himself prickle.

"Casse-toi." Facilier snapped.

"I'm not laughing at you. I just wish I could help your hang over." Ross said.

"What about y'all? Huh?"

"I'm fine."

"Y'all are a fucking liar."

A floating cup of something dark and steaming passed into the room and stopped in front of Facilier. Ross looked and saw the shadow against the wall, holding the cup by it's own shadow. Facilier took the cup and saucer.

"Merci L'ombre."

"I have not seen that before." Ross said, his tone one of admiration. "Anyways," He looked at Facilier. "I'll take my saxophone and be out of your hair."

"Good. It's by the main door."

Ross gave a little bow.

"Thanks." He grinned.

Ross walked out. Out in the Emporium Facilier heard the front door open and close. Facilier had forgotten to lock the door last night, on top of everything else. Putain. He sighed. Who does that fucking brat think he is…? He wasn't annoyed by waking up with a man in his bed. That…was just another flavor in life. His Baron Samedi himself did chasing on both ends. No…no, what he hated was the idea that this spoiled white boy thought he had gotten the better of him. That this boy thought he got away with something, duped him. He boiled at the thought, then pushed it from his mind.

He needed to focus on how to take the power and money he craved, and fulfill his debt to his "friends". He could hex rich boy later.

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