Member
That was enough gambling for one night.
Oliver yawned, standing up and stretching before reaching into his pocket and pulling out his wallet. "Both of you made this an enjoyable experience," He told the Dealer and the (Bunny) Waitress. "Here, six thousand yen for each of you." He placed the money on the table, turning to his friend and nodding. "I'll get you home, Shou." He glanced up and stared at Ryoki, before shooting a playful grin as she lamented on having to choose between three 'handsome' gentlemen. "While I find that humorous, you won't have to worry about me. Work tends to get in the way. Relationships are overrated anyway."
Draping the professor's arm over his shoulder, he turned to the raven-haired dame. "If you need a ride home miss, then I can give you a card for a 24/7 cab service. Or, if you don't have a problem, you can hitch a ride with me after I drop this," He gestured to Shou, "Guy off at his place."
The duo of friends then stumbled into the parking lot, Oliver looking for his friend's Ford before clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth in annoyance. "Damn it, he always parks near the back. We'll take my car. I don't have work tomorrow so I can always walk back here in the morning and drive his car back to his place. After all, the Academy isn't open on Sundays."
With his free hand, he pressed the button on his keys, the lights of his Bentley coming to life through the darkness. He helped the Professor in, before climbing into the driver's seat and starting the car. He would wait for five minutes, then if Ryoki didn't show up, he would leave her. Cruel? He didn't think so.
The distant roar of rolling thunder made him shudder.
Unpleasant memories...
This wasn't the first time Oliver and Shou sat in a vehicle with nothing but the rain drowning out their thoughts.
The last time was four years ago...in a squad car.
------------------------
The Weatherman.
-------------------------
He watched as the crimson tail lights of the taxi faded into the evening mist that started to drift upon the road, a loud crack of thunder followed by the onset of the light shower of rain. He gripped the handle of his tool of trade tightly.
The storm was brewing...it would get worse.
It always got worse.
Which was better for him.
The flower shop was dimly lit on the outside, a single streetlamp being the only terms of visibility that revealed the entrance. Dark windows devoid of any light were draped off by curtains, signaling that whoever lived there were either asleep or away. It had been so long since he last satisfied his urges. They wouldn't go away.
Rubber gloves squeaked as his grip grew tighter.
And he didn't want them to.
With an audible, heavy step, he watched as the flaxen-haired DJ began walking to the entrance of the store.
He followed.
The thunder masked his steps.
The poor lady was fumbling with her keys.
Closer.
A few more steps and it would be all over.
Was she having trouble?
Closer.
Oh, how her small little breaths were adorable.
But he liked it better when they weren't breathing.
His fingers reached out for her hair, just brushing by his fingertips until the door was slammed by a kick, jamming the first digits of his fingers into the rest of his hand. A soft click immediately followed, barring his would-be victim from entry in tonight's game. Lucky...LUCKY...LUCKY LUCKY LUCKY!!! WHAT FUN, WHAT FUN! I'll be ECSTATIC when I rip your tongue right through your neck...you girls LOVE necklaces, right? RIGHT?
With a groan of frustration, he turned and slammed the sledgehammer into the wall next to him, a sizeable chunk of concrete breaking off from the wall before being strewn across the entrance.
The bitch smashed his fingers in. She would pay...they always did.
A tear in the gloves allowed the blood to trickle down from his finger tips, falling upon the floor with a soft pit pat.
Slowly, he reached up to the door, and drawing in his own wet blood...
TOMORROW.
A flash of lighting.
Gone.
Oliver yawned, standing up and stretching before reaching into his pocket and pulling out his wallet. "Both of you made this an enjoyable experience," He told the Dealer and the (Bunny) Waitress. "Here, six thousand yen for each of you." He placed the money on the table, turning to his friend and nodding. "I'll get you home, Shou." He glanced up and stared at Ryoki, before shooting a playful grin as she lamented on having to choose between three 'handsome' gentlemen. "While I find that humorous, you won't have to worry about me. Work tends to get in the way. Relationships are overrated anyway."
Draping the professor's arm over his shoulder, he turned to the raven-haired dame. "If you need a ride home miss, then I can give you a card for a 24/7 cab service. Or, if you don't have a problem, you can hitch a ride with me after I drop this," He gestured to Shou, "Guy off at his place."
The duo of friends then stumbled into the parking lot, Oliver looking for his friend's Ford before clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth in annoyance. "Damn it, he always parks near the back. We'll take my car. I don't have work tomorrow so I can always walk back here in the morning and drive his car back to his place. After all, the Academy isn't open on Sundays."
With his free hand, he pressed the button on his keys, the lights of his Bentley coming to life through the darkness. He helped the Professor in, before climbing into the driver's seat and starting the car. He would wait for five minutes, then if Ryoki didn't show up, he would leave her. Cruel? He didn't think so.
The distant roar of rolling thunder made him shudder.
Unpleasant memories...
This wasn't the first time Oliver and Shou sat in a vehicle with nothing but the rain drowning out their thoughts.
The last time was four years ago...in a squad car.
------------------------
The Weatherman.
-------------------------
He watched as the crimson tail lights of the taxi faded into the evening mist that started to drift upon the road, a loud crack of thunder followed by the onset of the light shower of rain. He gripped the handle of his tool of trade tightly.
The storm was brewing...it would get worse.
It always got worse.
Which was better for him.
The flower shop was dimly lit on the outside, a single streetlamp being the only terms of visibility that revealed the entrance. Dark windows devoid of any light were draped off by curtains, signaling that whoever lived there were either asleep or away. It had been so long since he last satisfied his urges. They wouldn't go away.
Rubber gloves squeaked as his grip grew tighter.
And he didn't want them to.
With an audible, heavy step, he watched as the flaxen-haired DJ began walking to the entrance of the store.
He followed.
The thunder masked his steps.
The poor lady was fumbling with her keys.
Closer.
A few more steps and it would be all over.
Was she having trouble?
Closer.
Oh, how her small little breaths were adorable.
But he liked it better when they weren't breathing.
His fingers reached out for her hair, just brushing by his fingertips until the door was slammed by a kick, jamming the first digits of his fingers into the rest of his hand. A soft click immediately followed, barring his would-be victim from entry in tonight's game. Lucky...LUCKY...LUCKY LUCKY LUCKY!!! WHAT FUN, WHAT FUN! I'll be ECSTATIC when I rip your tongue right through your neck...you girls LOVE necklaces, right? RIGHT?
With a groan of frustration, he turned and slammed the sledgehammer into the wall next to him, a sizeable chunk of concrete breaking off from the wall before being strewn across the entrance.
The bitch smashed his fingers in. She would pay...they always did.
A tear in the gloves allowed the blood to trickle down from his finger tips, falling upon the floor with a soft pit pat.
Slowly, he reached up to the door, and drawing in his own wet blood...
TOMORROW.
A flash of lighting.
Gone.
