Ruru slumped into the chair in his apartment and tossed his back, exhausted. His hands were still bloody and he grimanced pushing the last words of the old man out of his head.
"Please! I-I'll pay..you can tell them I'll p-pay. My grandson has the money....please....my wife...don't let her find me like th-"
He closed his eye and sat up reaching over to the table for his bottle of whiskey, now warm and had been sitting for at least a day.
Let me pour ye a drink. He looked and saw her pouring the whiskey into a glass. An outsider would have seen him pouring his own glass absentmindedly. She offered the glass to him with a smirk and he shook his head, the blood smearing along the glass as he took a sip.
Big hero at it again. What'd this one do, Flit? Ferget t' polish his boots? Oh! Or maybe he was late t' work one day. That'd warrant yer amazin' skills at knockin' off the right people. She glared at him and grinned that toothy grin he'd become accustomed to as she sat on the table before him. Tell me I'm warm an' I promise t' leave ye be.
"He didn't pay his debt." He sounded cold, flat...as if lost in thought while he took another sip.
Oh well, that's th' one then. Ferget ol' Tabert, or hells even yer own brother! That's th' one needin' a blade in his throat. Drink up. Ye've earned it. She'd hissed the last words and he scowled.
"Well at least I'm here...making sure no one's after you. You decided to run off."
She was gone and he smirked taking a drink.
"Exactly."
"Please! I-I'll pay..you can tell them I'll p-pay. My grandson has the money....please....my wife...don't let her find me like th-"
He closed his eye and sat up reaching over to the table for his bottle of whiskey, now warm and had been sitting for at least a day.
Let me pour ye a drink. He looked and saw her pouring the whiskey into a glass. An outsider would have seen him pouring his own glass absentmindedly. She offered the glass to him with a smirk and he shook his head, the blood smearing along the glass as he took a sip.
Big hero at it again. What'd this one do, Flit? Ferget t' polish his boots? Oh! Or maybe he was late t' work one day. That'd warrant yer amazin' skills at knockin' off the right people. She glared at him and grinned that toothy grin he'd become accustomed to as she sat on the table before him. Tell me I'm warm an' I promise t' leave ye be.
"He didn't pay his debt." He sounded cold, flat...as if lost in thought while he took another sip.
Oh well, that's th' one then. Ferget ol' Tabert, or hells even yer own brother! That's th' one needin' a blade in his throat. Drink up. Ye've earned it. She'd hissed the last words and he scowled.
"Well at least I'm here...making sure no one's after you. You decided to run off."
She was gone and he smirked taking a drink.
"Exactly."