Winthrop was taken out of the bin, politely dusted off, and set back on the shelf...maybe not as high as the bouncer still was (he seemed to almost be glued down), but he was there. The warm greeting and immediate agreeance to help her with a small matter was entirely unexpected after her rude absence the last time...and then he gave her a pair of binoculars (customized with night vision!)and a kiss.
Small, respectful, on the cheek, not so much a kiss as a brief press of his mouth to her warm skin, but it counted...right?
"Hope to have that drink, sometime," he had rasped nervously, and then he stammered as he pointed to the present in her hands. "You know, to-to show you all the features and everything, you're a real beauty-I mean! It'sa real beauty! Not that-shit-I meant-"
"Thank you," she had interrupted, her face redder than a wasteland sunset. "I will...after I take care of something, if that's okay?"
"Yeah, of course, take your time. I'm here, I'll be here, whenever you need me." He had then forced a chuckle, gave her a very stiff wave of his hand, and then slapped it against his pants and blew out a sigh as she left.
Every step to the top felt heavier than the last, as though her boots were slowly being filled with lead. The unfortunate patron who was now in a comain Underworld's medical facility had been tossed overboard by the very same man she had scathed at and was looking to free. She hoped he wouldn't give her the same treatment...they would let bygones be bygones and never see each other again.
At least, that's what she drilled in her brain like a fever-licked mantra as she came to open the doors and step inside.
There he was. In the corner. The energy he radiated was like a brewing cyclone over dark waters, visible from a distance, and deadly enough to take caution around. Every inch of chiseled muscle and oiled leather and big hands, big feet, big dick-
She almost licked her lips at the sudden blinding vision of him taking her over the table. Focus!She was here for business! Important business!Straight-forward, no-nonsense, boring fucking business. Caps. Contract. Congratulatory fuck. (NO!)
She tossed the bag on the counter before her underwear could soak through at the remembrance of how he had lookedat her, how he had felt, how-
WinthropWinthropWinthropWinthropWinthrop-
"All two thousand," she said with absolution, all of her pent-up anger (and sexual frustration) at the bouncer leeching into her tone. Wow. She didn't mean to sound like such a dick, but it couldn't be helped. "I'll be taking Charon's contract now."
The silence was stiff. Ahzrukhal didn't say a word. She actually thought her rudeness had offended him until he walked to the safe on the wall, spun a quick combo, and popped open the hatch to handle a piece of paper very delicately. He closed it, came back to her, and held it up with the smarmiest grin that only a man of his nature could fashion.
"I was hoping you had received my message," his voice rattled. "This will only take a moment for me to count...Charon." The bouncer snapped off the wall. "Clear everybody out and lock the doors." He then nabbed the strap of the duffel bag and motioned to a (now free) table. "Shall we, my dear? Drink?"
"No," she replied, watching as Charon grabbed the back of someone's chair to upend them from their seat.
"B-but I ain't done yet,"an inebriated ghoul burped into his glass, the collar of his shirt seized to hoist him out the door.
The bar was emptied save for the three of them, and the bouncer took his place back in the corner, his line of sight in perfect view of her. She kept her eyes down and fiddled her fingers under the table; he would not stop fucking glaring at her! Stop it! I'm fucking helping you, you ungrateful asshole!
Ahzrukhal took nearly all the damn time in the world. The sun could've imploded, as far as she knew. Every cap was inspected (yeah, like she had the time or know-how to forgeone) slid into a bin, and mentally tallied. She became bored after the first few hundred, feeling nauseous at this point from the god-awful energy Charon's eyes were lancing through her. All those weeks of living on the frugal edge, now lining someone else's grimy (not even one-thousand thread count) suit pocket. Gone. Poof. Just like that.
She should've just given him the knife back and calmly explained herself...but she probably ruined that chance now, anyhow. She stretched in place and sighed.
"Problem, my dear?" Ahzrukhal flit his eyes up and then resumed counting. He had pocketed a few while she hadn't been looking. "This is a large sum of money-"
"Take your time, yeah, yeah," she snarked, her mood growing sourer with every cap clinking. "What was with that message? Was that a bounty?"
He again broke focus away from his tally. "You haven't heard? You must then be considerably lucky. Don't worry, Charon is an extremely talented asset. He can fill you in on the details, I'm certain. I would be more than...happy,to, once our transaction is settled, and a few drinks are had."
Ugh. Whatever. No one else had heard of it, it probably wasn't that big of a deal, or he was more than likely trying to coerce her into buying protection. Not like thatwas the reason she was doing this.
When he finally (FINALLY)ticked the last cap into place, he frowned, looked her dead in the eye, and lied, "I am afraid you have miscounted, as this is only-"
"It's two thousand. I had Winthrop count it myself, and he's more than willing to vouch for it." Years of dealing with the Tunnel Snakes had strengthened some resolve inside of her. "I think you're the one who's miscalculated."
Ahzrukhal leaned back in his seat and narrowed his eyes a fraction. "...it seems I might have. A deal is a deal, smoothskin." He then stood, reached inside a breast pocket for that piece of faded paper, and handed it over the table. "It was a pleasure doing business with you."
She took it, squinting at the inked lettering having long since faded from oiled fingers and time. So many worn creases, some dark spots from blood...she glanced up to the sight of the bouncer already walking over.
"Ah, Charon, come to say goodbye?" Ahzrukhal asked with oozing smugness. Man, she would've punched him in the face for that-
But Charon was instead drawing his shotgun, and rasped a single word that sunk a chill so deep in her bones she shivered.
"Yes."
One moment Ahzrukhal was there, the next, atomized into a wet spray of blood and chunks that splattered the table, the chair, the caps, and her fucking face. The blast from his shotgun was felt, smelled, bitter and choking and suddenly her ears were ringing from the proximity. An eyeball rolled on the floor, the body dropped with a thud, and a seeping river of blood began to pool around her boots.
She couldn't move- she was frozen from shell shock- what the fuck just happened?!
Another blast, mutilating Ahzrukhal's corpse into ground beef and (not even a hundred thread count) shredded suit pieces. Something landed on her lap- a chunk of rotten flesh with a black indentation in the middle- what was once Ahzrukhal's fucking ear.
Charon gave a nod of approval, a very tinytwitch of his mouth like he was struggling not to smirk, and then lowered his gun at his side in one hand, the barrel smoking and his veins rigid from the adrenaline pumping through them. That warrior was staring at her, fresh from the battlefield with the glory of his killings staining his boots, andhers. He then spoke, not meanly, not smugly, not anything, really. A flat, rehearsed, drawn-out shtick he must have repeated dozens, perhaps hundreds of times. Something this, clause that. She had no idea, she wasn't paying attention, her eyes were still drawn to the chunk of ear still in her lap.
"-and now, for good or ill, I serve you."
Her head slowly lifted as she blinked at him, and then she jolted from her seat as life finally animated her limbs (the bit of flesh made a nasty plop), the paper held out for him to take, a drip of blood falling from her fingertip.
"I don't want this. It's yours now." She didn't even recognize her own voice. Takeit-takeit-takeit take the fucking thing. "I'm giving it to you."
Charon stared at her for so long the sun could've reformed, and she'd have no idea. There could be an entirely new world just outside those doors, another start to civilization.
"You are my employer until my contract changes hands."
"This is for you."
"I cannot take that."
She snapped it in the air at him, holding it out with her hand shaking. "Please take it, I did this for you, I did this because you saved my life, I oweyou, now we're even, fair and square, here, take it, fucking take it-!"
The ghoul took his other hand, gently curled her fingers around the paper, and pushed it to her chest. "You are my employer until my contract changes hands."
Oh no. No. This isn't what she wanted, ohno-
Evelyn looked down at the giant gloved palm still encircled around hers- she was trembling, violently- oh fuck, what the fuck should she do? Leave it? He'd have to take it then, right?
A banging on the door outside whirled their heads to the sound. "Hey! What's going on in there?! Ahzrukhal!That smoothskin better be alright!" A voice she didn't recognize.
"Open the door!" Thatwas Winthrop. Oh my God, how was she going to explain this to everyone?! "Damnitopen the door!"
A sudden motion flurried around her. Charon poured the caps back inside the duffel bag, emptied Ahzrukhal's pockets, and then in one fluid motion, hoisted the bag over one shoulder and fucking stood there, waiting, waiting on her.
Evelyn looked down at the corpse, beyond recognition, (only identifiable by the one thread count suit). "Nope. No." She threw the contract at him, to which he snatched from the air almost inhuman-like. Her mouth spewed word vomit after she turned to leave. "I'm out- do what you want- I'm not doing this."
The door was unlocked, and she thrust them open dramatically to a crowd that gasped and buzzed at the sight inside. She expected the microphones shoved in her face, the flashing of bulbs, the furious scrawling of pens on notepads. Can you tell us what happened?! Is it true?!DidMr. Ahzrukhal get shot in the head? Are you aware you own aslave,now?She stepped through, the bodies parting to avoid touching her blood-sprayed clothes, the murmuring so loud it drowned her ears.
"Evelyn."A hand nabbed at her wrist and turned her around. She looked up with wide eyes, she wasn't sure if she wouldn't start to cry. Winthrop pulled her towards the stairs, away from the commotion. "What the hell happened?!"
She could see Carol standing just outside her shop with the others, a hand to her mouth and head slowly shaking, disbelieving this nice smoothskin who had just delivered her son's letters a mere hour ago was now Underworld's biggest scandal of the (literal) century. She was always so nice, none of us had any idea. It's such a tragedy to the community...
All at once, it became quiet. The slow footfalls of heavy boots, a creak of leather, a gasp as he came too close. Evelyn watched the crowd give way to this ghoul a foot taller than everyone else, his shotgun still held at his side and deadpan expression giving nothing away. He was fully equipped with items she had never seen him wear before; he appeared ready for war. He looked at her, looked down at Winthrop's hand still holding her close, and instantly whipped his gun up to bring it mere inches from the ghoul's head.
"No! Charon no!" she cried as Winthrop flinched backward, and she took a stand between the two. He instantly lowered it. "Oh my God." She instead reached for Charon's arm, tugging him along. "Let's go-"
They had to get out of there. They had to leave. She didn't want anyone else hurt over this. He followed, obediently, just a few steps behind her down the stairs and making a beeline for the double doors.
"Oh, shit, shit, my fucking bags." She raced towards Winthrop's office where she had put her stuff, not even hearing Charon's steps right behind her until she shouldered her crap and spun around. "Oh, Jesus-"
The (now ex) bouncer was staring at Winthrop's bed. That was weird.
"Smoothskin," Winthrop rasped from inside the doorway. "Just tell me what's going on-"
He didn't get a chance to finish, as a massive hand cut off his air supply and lifted him cleanly off his feet to slam him into the wall. A scream echoed from just outside.
"Charon, drop him!" she shrieked in a panic. He swiveled his head a fraction to her, rolledhis fucking eyes, and obeyed. "Winthrop, I'm so so sorry-" She squeezed past him as he buckled to his knees and wheezed air back down his throat.
Charon merely planted his boot on his shoulder and punted him aside to make room. Man, what did Winthrop do in a past life to the guy?!
"Now hold on there smoothskin!" A ghoul wearing a tattered surgeon outfit raised a hand at her by the front entrance, and then just as quickly lowered it as a shotgun planted in his face over her shoulder.
"Charon!"she whispered with a hiss as she threw her weight into the doorframe, closing off the multitude of eyes watching them leave. She hurried over to the bathrooms, craning her head around for any sight of a chase. No one had followed them through.
Evelyn ducked inside the stale urine-smelling restroom, her hands on her hips and face tilted to the ceiling. Okay. Okay, think, breathe. In. Out. Whew.
"What the fuckwas that?!" she blurted (after spinning around so fast she became lightheaded). The ghoul didn't say anything but stared. Always the staring. Few words, all stares. "Charon!"
"Is there a problem with what I'm doing?" he asked caustically, and at that moment, she never thought the sound of rude sarcasm could ever be so beautiful to her ears. Okay, he was still an asshole...herasshole, now. He stared.
"Well, I mean-!" She threw her hands around, as though they explained everything she couldn't finish saying. A laugh bubbled from her chest; she sounded completely mad. She smeared her face in a hand and-ohmyGod, Ahzrukhal's goo was still on her skin. EW!She braced over the sink and turned the taps full spin, splashing her face and drowning in cold water to furiously scour away the evidence. When the floor was in need of a wet caution sign and her hair was doused and her jacket was soaked, she wiped the excess away and turned to look at him. Still there. Staring.
"Stop staring at me!" she snapped.
He nodded once, turned a precise quarter away from her, and stared at the wall.
"Charon!"
He immediately turned back to her.
Evelyn gaped like a fish praying for water, and then she just strode on past him. She held a hand up when he immediately pursued. "No, no! Don't follow me!"
He nodded again. "As you wish." He unshouldered his bags. "I shall wait here until you return for me."
(CUE STARE)
"...was that a joke?" she asked nervously, watching him prop himself against a stall door, arms folded and expression angry. It was as though he was back at the bar and not some decrepit, hazardous bathroom that had literal shit in the far corner.
He didn't answer her, and she scathed, "Fine, fine!Have it your way!" She stomped out, feeling his glowing eyes shadow her until she was gone from view.
"What the hell happened to you?" Willow asked dryly, dragging on a smoke and completely ignorant to the calamity she was being sentry to.
Evelyn half-garbled a non-lucid response, dragging her feet and trailing water droplets as she went around the bend. There was no way he'd actually wait for her there...right? He'd have to grow bored and leave...right?
"Oh my fucking God," she muttered as she turned straight back around.
He was still there. Waiting. She didn't think he moved a single muscle.
"Shall I join you once again?" he asked stoically.
Real charmer. Absolute winner. A fucking brainwashed slave that was death personified and had the honor of taking her virginity...even her first kiss.
God, when I said Ireallywanted to see him again...this isn't what I fucking meant.
Their eyes met, and she nodded (reluctantly).
"Yeah...let's go."