never know what hit you | Deane & Rick
Screaming and begging has gotten him nowhere — at all. Crying certainly not but that doesn’t keep them from stopping their practical downpour from the corners of his eyes. Deane doesn’t know what to do. He can’t stand and making his psycho more and more upset is just going to get him killed faster. He doesn’t want to die, but maybe its just better. Still Deane doesn’t actually think that would happen. Rick wants him — stated it, clearly isn’t going to just leave him like he gave for the option. The cajun is trapped.
If he hadn’t snuck into the house and scared the hell out of Deane, had tricked the young cajun into thinking he was so nice guy to trust — this honestly would be going easier. Deane would have fucking willingly gone wherever this guy wanted because he is a fool that trusts the kindness of other people far too easily. He would have rather that — than this. A knife pressed to his back now to send more tremors of fear shooting to the very core of his being. More terrified with the command whispered against his ear has his muscles coiling so tightly.
But he nods.
The action is slow as he lifts a hand to paw at blurry eyes, his other rises to grab at the wall. To practically claw at it while he tries to rise on shaking and tired legs. Deane stumbles twice and even scares himself once by falling against the tip of the knife that is pressed towards his back. Another whimper, a choked sob as he clings to the wall next to him, head turning as new tears form in blue hues.
"Ah’can’t walk, sir.”
Sir. He wants to vomit right then and there but of course Deane is deprived of so much since the supply run that ended so badly hours ago. He can stand on limbs that threaten to buckle with the aid of a wall — but walking, and on his own? It wasn’t going to happen.
There's a frown as Rick watched Deane try to stand up even using the wall as leverage and he'll even move the knife away from Deane's back when he falls towards the knife. His intention was not to hurt him; not yet anyways. The knife was all for play but that didn't mean Rick wouldn't use the weapon on him. He has to make himself look threatening and dangerous in the first meeting, otherwise he wouldn't have any luck and if his image wasn't good enough, then the knife would complete the puzzle. Deane's pathetic as he falls and claims he can't walk. But oh-- the already called name of ' sir ' makes him smile. Yes, he did like this one.
"C'mere."
He'll remove the knife almost embedded in Deane's back and place it back in it's holder on his side. It's then that he reaches his hands out and grips his sides, lifting him from the ground. He wasn't heavy; not like the others he had kept for his special intentions and this made Rick's task easier. Setting Deane down slung over his shoulder, feet first and head near his back, he's determined to get back to the house before nightfall. With Deane's hands still bound by the rope and his feet within Rick's other hands' grasp, he sets off towards his hideout. Feet are quiet but his mouth opens to speak.
"Sir...I like that. Sounds nice comin' from yer cajun tongue.
