„Nice to see you too, at my service, Yazoo." Purred Hojo with a bubbling voice, indicating how he missed his booze and the good piece of service.
„Busy tonight, Sir?"
„Oh yesss, kinda enprisoned here, alas. Body and soul need to be kept busy or thougths, rancid of boredom, start to run in every imaginable directions."
Yazoo had no doubt in which directions those thoughts were heading to. With all the props of wine ceremony in his hands, he followed the professor from the corridor to the waiting room and then to the consulting room, watching closely his every motions. He placed the stand next to the table, even pulling out a chair for his customer. Waiting attentively for Hojo to take a seat, he tried to look around without attracting attention to his curiosity. The room was smaller than usual, a thick curtain hid almost half of it, making the youth wonder about the actions Hojo carried out before his antré.
Time had arrived to perform the ritual. With his practice and elegance he introduced the bottle, praising the label in a few words, asking for allowance to open it. Never before looked he so deeply in Hojo's eyes as he did now while pulling the opener from his pocket and turning out its pointed, sharp blade with a single touch of his thumb. His movement of cutting the foil resembled very much to a professional throat-slicing, making the little hairs raise on the professor's neck in alarm. But the smile, a mixture of confidence and courtesy, didn't vanish from Yazoo's face at the sight of the other's frown. Actually, the youth quite enjoyed taking a hot shower of this scrutinizing, devouring glance, indulging his body in the devastating lust radiating from Hojo. Maybe his admirer wanted to hyptonize him with his goggling eyeballs. Either way, Yazoo started to get aroused. Not by the companion, but by his own secret dominance over the situation. By the very fact that the danger he was in was far less then the danger he was himself, and he was the only one who knew it.
Not losing his tart sense of humour, he tought of the plot as a vermin and a penguin having a morbid date, celebrating human abberations with expensive beverage.
Despite the ship's rocking, a modest sip was poured skillfuly into the glass just to check whether the wine was cork. Not tearing his glance away from his visitor, Hojo held the glass in front of Yazoo, wanting him to try it. This was of course forbidden for a plain barwaiter, therefore some accomplice smirks were exchanged above the glass as Yazoo obeyed without hesitation. The dry white wine tasted like soured vegetable for him, although he nodded in approval.
While filling up both the shiny glasses, from the corner of his eye Yazoo caught sight of the bin. He tilted his head to have a better look. The neck of another bottle was peeking out of the sanitary waste explaining the slight haziness in the professor's eyes and his bold behaviour. Even better.
„Cheers." Both of them emptied their glasses. Yazoo was not worried about the potential effect on himself, since he always stole and ate plenty of cake and scones during teatime, stuffing his stomach. Whether the doc ate anything since lunch, he couldn't tell, but judged by his roughly controlled motions and squinting eyes he could obviously have made use of some food.
The first opportunity for a brief check of the surroundings came when he discreetly presented the bill. His client was busy with checking the charged sum, placing his signature and deciding about the amount of tip he wrote on the paper. In this few short seconds, only by a quick look, the barwaiter took measure of the area.
Filthy old piece of fuck.
Hypodermic needle, medical straps, scalpels and bent scissors of various size. The rest of the equipments' names he couldn't even tell.
The good doctor made competent preparations. His courage to take all preliminary steps and arranging all this horroristic set in such a controlled place awake a good amount of respect in Yazoo. And appetite, on top of that. The spirit of competition tickled his mind. Maybe the prof would prove a worthy opponent after all, so he hoped. Or was he already so desparate? Hopefully both.
Meanwhile, the customer slipped the check back into the leather folder, and tried to replace the pen in the tight holder as well, which was a challenge in his current state. This lingering allowed Yazoo one more round. Although he was keen aware of the sexual preferences he was determined to face, he couldn't know the details of the plan the doc came up with. The only possible hint was a book on the shelf, which was put back between the others in a hurry: it sank deeper than the surrounding ones.
'Tropical infections'.
Blinking slowly he lowered his head again just in time to catch the other's piercing gaze without getting suspicious.
He wondered what all this could mean while the doctor's shaky hands filled up both glasses again and ordered him to drink. Slow gulping helps the mind to concentrate, and that was what Yazoo needed, a few seconds to think with the head of his stalker. He pretended enjoying his beverage, even closed his eyes for better concentration. While chewing on the wine, slowly playing with it with his tongue, he let the ideas and possibilities rush through his mind. The conclusion curved the full lips into a ghosty smirk. Frankly, if he proved to be right, the old dick's guts were very much worth some respect. With a nod he put the semi-full glass back on the table, carefully placing it in the middle, to prevent it from falling off during rough sea.
„Nice choice indeed." Only he knew, how ambiguous his congratulation was. It made the older man grin expectantly, as Hojo thought also of his choice, but the human one instead of the beverage. Indeed, he didn't want to release his victim anymore. Some rare kind of tropical infection, caught by a clueless Yazoo strolling ashore previously would grant a good cause for putting the boy in quarantine under his supervision.
To test those guts and limits of determination, Yazoo openly took a look around, as if innocently curious of his unusual surroundings. He also stared at the sharp scalpels with saucer eyes and fake thrill, pretending he didn't dare to touch them. His action didn't discourage the doctor, on the contrary. Instead of getting embarassed, he seemed to get more and more fond of the act he created and directed. Or so he believed. Hojo licked his own lower lip while letting out a ragged, dreamy sigh, not even noticing he did so.
„Thank you, Sir." Yazoo nodded, seemingly meaning the booze and tip, in fact being grateful for the chance to act without restraint. His brother Loz would have called this 'playing'. Indeed, his darkness within was ready to play, to judge, to execute a sentence. On a pervert doctor whose plans and actions proved he didn't deserve mercy.
Hypodermic needle, medical straps, scalpels and bent scissors of various size.
„My pleasure, boy."
Hearing that, Yazoo couldn't hold back one of his characteristic 'hmpf's.
Yes, torturing someone to death can be the ultimate pleasure for one with the mind of a devil.