Remote Control
He works to a crescendo, intensifying his stares, until at last, a single look can hold them back, or draw them forwards, teetering on the mat as though above a pit of vipers.
He directs their fights, move for move, without uttering a single word.
Their response is varied. Bobby overthinks. Dutch doesn't think at all.
But Johnny – Johnny melts in his hands like butter.
A single glare between the shoulder-blades – felt, rather than seen – and the boy's back arches like a cobra before its prey.
He can make Johnny win. Sometimes, John wonders if he can make Johnny kill.