03-31-2022, 03:44 AM
His eyes followed those spider leg-fingers to his collar – or more precisely, his lack thereof. The corners of his sympathetic smile quirked into something sharper, quicker, but it vanished quick as a snowflake on the finger.
He’d heard the orphan was a priest these days. Funny. He’d never seen him at this church, or any other church worth going to. Was it even true? He supposed the creature cut his hair these days, but any man could clean up with enough prodding or enough frat brothers to descend upon him in the night with grasping hands and scissors.
Oh, yes. The screaming, the flailing, the begging and the tears. That night had been so fun it had practically been sexual. Was it sexual if he still fantasized in mind and body about how it could have gone even farther? No matter.
He let the cigar linger on the cigarette, enjoying yet another side-by-side comparison of this cretin’s life and Chris’. Even his smoke was hardly a fifth of the size of Chris’ creature comforts. Once it was lit, he pushed it forward hard on the end of the orphan’s. Could he smother it out, bend it out of shape with the same practiced ease a child could fry ants with but a magnifying glass?
“Thank you,” he said, smiling, settling in beside the illegitimate heir as easily as he had the Jew.
Sometimes, he wondered whether or not Zack was really rich.
The bastard’s eyes narrowed, and Chris’ heart sung in easy victory. This one had always had an uncontrollable temper. Lyle had warned of it, after all – over and over.
Maybe he could make something of it. He took a long, indulgent drag of his cigar, then turned his head straight at the orphan’s face to exhale it. There was a thick, garlicky smell intertwined with the tobacco. At the same time, Chris kept his cigar off to the side. Fresh smoke was too good for him.
“There’s some mummies on display,” Chris non-answered, face as serene as a lamb’s. “I can’t say I stop by the mortuaries often.”
Never mind that he visited them more often than the brothels.
“What about yourself?” he asked conversationally, eyes ahead.
Back the cigar went between his teeth, even but already yellowed from a far more frequent habit.
He’d heard the orphan was a priest these days. Funny. He’d never seen him at this church, or any other church worth going to. Was it even true? He supposed the creature cut his hair these days, but any man could clean up with enough prodding or enough frat brothers to descend upon him in the night with grasping hands and scissors.
Oh, yes. The screaming, the flailing, the begging and the tears. That night had been so fun it had practically been sexual. Was it sexual if he still fantasized in mind and body about how it could have gone even farther? No matter.
He let the cigar linger on the cigarette, enjoying yet another side-by-side comparison of this cretin’s life and Chris’. Even his smoke was hardly a fifth of the size of Chris’ creature comforts. Once it was lit, he pushed it forward hard on the end of the orphan’s. Could he smother it out, bend it out of shape with the same practiced ease a child could fry ants with but a magnifying glass?
“Thank you,” he said, smiling, settling in beside the illegitimate heir as easily as he had the Jew.
Sometimes, he wondered whether or not Zack was really rich.
The bastard’s eyes narrowed, and Chris’ heart sung in easy victory. This one had always had an uncontrollable temper. Lyle had warned of it, after all – over and over.
Maybe he could make something of it. He took a long, indulgent drag of his cigar, then turned his head straight at the orphan’s face to exhale it. There was a thick, garlicky smell intertwined with the tobacco. At the same time, Chris kept his cigar off to the side. Fresh smoke was too good for him.
“There’s some mummies on display,” Chris non-answered, face as serene as a lamb’s. “I can’t say I stop by the mortuaries often.”
Never mind that he visited them more often than the brothels.
“What about yourself?” he asked conversationally, eyes ahead.
Back the cigar went between his teeth, even but already yellowed from a far more frequent habit.
