in hindsight, he really should’ve been suspicious of the little girl crying for help on the walkways. the slums were dank, dark; the child was dirty, clothes stained in dust and neglect at frayed edges. an empty gap in her arms signified something missing. her parted lips, her voice thick with distress told him exactly what.
for all of his hard edges, jaebum found it difficult to turn away from a wailing child. particularly after a short but consequential venture into the city that had ended in some relative success. there was only the road home laid out before him, but as he stopped to kneel before the girl–
no more than five years of age;
he felt the faintest prickle at the back of his neck ( signalling a presence or three in the shadows ), followed by the piercing pain of something sharp in his bicep; needle-thin and jutting through the thick fabric of his jacket. a standard issue disguise, worn for the sake of subtlety. what follows, between one growled breath and the next five, is a distinct slowing of his every reflex. the drugged dart isn’t pulled from his skin until a full minute later, as he swings to stand on his feet.
in the moment that it hits the ground, he finds himself embroiled in a battle where for once, he is at a glaring disadvantage; rendered helpless by the sluggishness of his body. pain, and the anger are his only allies, keeping him upright even after he’s robbed blind and confronted with one of the most obnoxious sounds he’s ever heard.
at least in context, it grates on his every nerve.
his gaze flicks south to watch the white fabric weave between her fingers, over and around and through.
“you don’t sound too bothered by that, miss.”
ADMITTEDLY, SHE WAS entirely too tickled to see past the potential danger of lingering among the slums during nightfall. but then again, what danger could there possibly have been that she hasn’t already been made a victim of throughout the viikate’s training regime? instead, six found most of her amusement nestled between knitted fine brows & contortion of striking features.
inside, the devils are DANCING with glee, anticipating yet another ruin of a beauty—hungering for broken expressions etched across fair faces.
perhaps that, was the fuel for her amusement.
“OF COURSE NOT, it’s not my nose.” six giggles, a sigh slipping past shortly after as another bold step closes the distance between her and the bleeding man. “are you going to take it, sir? before you bleed all over yourself & look even more like a fool.” wordlessly, she presses the cloth against bloodied skin, pulling back only when the blood seeps through & TAINTS her fingertips, nose twitching at the metallic scent.
“YOU SHOULD KNOW better than to trust anyone in these neighborhoods—even the youngest of them have been trained into sly devils.” tone absent, six circles the brooding man as if surveying a prey—slender fingers sliding over toned muscles, curling around his bicep as she slows to a stop in front of him once again. “what do you think is in the concoction they injected in you? i hear date-rape drugs are popular in these areas... how long till you’ll be too weak to resist my RAVAGING of your body, handsome?”
she is, by all means, jesting of course.
