If it weren't for Beau's outstanding excellence in his field, Mason would have scolded him for making these kinds of threats the first time he had been so daring. He'd have felt around for the little security buzzer he kept discreetly in his clothes and had the fellow escorted off property or fed to his pigs.
There was a tremendous difference between recreational pain-seeking and actually being threatened. For all the fun of it, and as tempting as it was to push and push and push, Mason had a nagging, creeping feeling deep down that the other man meant what he was saying.
"Oh, boy," Mason hummed. "Then I'd have to point at you with my middle finger, and I'm not so sure you would like that."
His eyes flicked upward, just to be met with a sudden hand on the head-- one that made him wince, if only because it was completely unsolicited.
"Excuse me?!" Verger balked.
The drowning thing was off in a whole tier of its own-- he wouldn't be able to pay Beau if he was dead, and Beau wanted money, he rationalized.
But Mason's hand balled into a fist on the arm of his chair.
'I am not a child or dog! You don't do that!' is what he wanted to say. He had half a mind to do it, too, but visible distress was a treat to this kind of person.
"... Wow. That was bold," was what he said instead, melting back into a tone that was calm and aloof. "Y'know, I kinda liked it once I got over the initial shock. You have strong hands. Felt good."
Oh, he could make himself gag!
He would not, however. Quickly, Mason skated past that and back to the business at hand.
"Anyway. I want it painful, obviously. And I want to be there. You could bring him here if that's too much of a hassle. I don't care what method it is as long as he's writhing and the last thing he sees is my face."
