FicWad

Matt threw his keys down onto the kitchen counter and turned to switch on the cheap electric kettle that had come with the apartment. He moved to place his elbows down on the counter and then laid his head in his hands, running his fingers through his dirty blonde hair and squeezing his eyes shut with a quiet groan.

The drive home had been tedious; Matt had been unable to stop running the conversation he had had with King through his head. He felt as if even the tiny scrap of hope he had been clinging to for so many years had just been torn away from him and now he had no other option than to face the fact that his parents killer would never be brought to justice. That he himself would never feel peace.

Matt’s fingers tightened in his hair, gripping hard and tugging slightly as he squeezed his eyes shut and tried to focus on the sound of the kettle boiling rather than his own thoughts. He was trying not to let his hopelessness grip him, but it was difficult when he knew that unless he found his parents killer himself then all hope really was lost. How was he supposed to be able to find the killer? He didn’t know how he could even begin to go about doing that. He had already had to liaison with less than savoury people in order to find King, he couldn’t bear to think who he might have to meet in order to find his parents killer.

Matt slumped more against the counter, losing energy in his limbs from despair. He had been so sure that King would help him, but just have to been shot down in flames... Matt just didn’t feel like he could cope anymore.

The switch on the kettle clicked loudly and almost immediately after the sound of the water bubbling died away. Matt stayed leaning against the side for a while longer, trying to force himself to move and make a drink. He felt even lonelier now that the noise of the kettle was gone, the apartment felt colder than ever and so empty. Matt almost wished that he wasn’t so anti social then, living alone was a blessing at times, but more often than not now a days it just got him down.

With a deep sigh Matt finally turned to pour the boiling water into a mug over instant coffee granules before turning to the fridge. He opened the door and pulled a face at how pathetically empty it was, nothing more than a half full jug of milk, some rather limp looking lettuce and a small block of cheese inside. The cheese was probably going mouldy if Matt dared to examine it, but for now he ignored it in favour of grabbing the milk and sniffing that instead. It didn’t seem to be off yet and so he poured a generous glug into his coffee before returning it to the fridge.

As he walked through to the living room Matt wondered whether he should get a pet. He had spent his whole life thinking obsessively about his parents killer and how much he wanted him dead, he had never dared to form any real sort of relationship with anyone and he was starting to regret it. Perhaps a dog or a cat being there to greet him when he got home would make things a little better. Perhaps all he really needed was some company to get him over what had happened all those years ago. After all, he was twenty six now; he really shouldn’t be harbouring such a grudge. He could barely even remember his parents if he was being honest with himself.

Flicking on the TV just for background noise Matt settled down into the battered old couch and cradled his coffee mug to his chest, holding it over is heart so that it warmed up his skin through the fabric of his t-shirt. He stared blankly at the television screen, trying to take in what was showing on it but his mind was turning to King no matter how hard he tried not to let it.

King... What was he to make of King? Though they had met for such a short moment no one had made such a lasting first impression on Matt. It wasn’t so much what King had said or done, but a sort of aura that seemed to cling to him that made Matt shudder at just the thought of him. But it wasn’t entirely fear... there was an undercurrent of respect and excitement, a sort of strange admiration for the handsome man who had so cruelly shot Matt down. Matt knew that if anyone could help him then it was King... He just had to find a way to persuade him to offer his services.

Matt considered everything King had said to him as he tapped his fingers on the side of his mug and stared blankly at the TV. King had made it very clear that he was not about to make any attempt to find the man who had killed Matt’s parents, and Matt knew already he wouldn’t be able to find him himself. He had nothing more than his sketches from memory to aid him and that was clearly getting him nowhere. But King had said that he would kill the man if Matt could tell him where he was...

There was a clock ticking on the wall above the TV and when Matt glanced at it he felt his heart start to race to see it was only just early evening. In order to find King Matt had had to venture into some of the seedier parts of town to talk to people about finding an assassin. He was sure that if he returned to those places someone might know of a person who could find his man. Although the shady characters Matt had talked to had frightened him greatly he was more than willing to face them again if it meant getting the revenge he felt he so deserved.

The men of the underworld, as Matt called them, were twisted, manipulative men who made their livings off dodgy dealings and carrying out dark requests. Matt didn’t know any of them by name, or even by face; getting in contact with men like that had to be done through whispers and shadows. It was all ‘I know a friend of a friend of a friend’ type dealings, no one ever put themselves on the line and no one ever revealed anything that could hint towards their identity. Matt didn’t mind too much, he wasn’t sure he really wanted to talk personally to any of those people or see their faces. Though his contact with King was making him question it slightly... Why was King, the ultimate killer, so prepared to talk to people himself in plain daylight in his very own home? It was just another question to add to the many that Matt was accumulating over the man.

Matt knew that no one who could help him would be available to find until much later, when most people were in bed and the only ones left wandering the streets were gangsters, drunkards and the homeless. That gave him a few hours to mentally prepare himself and also to shower and change. He would have to wear dark clothing so that he too could blend in with the shadows; he knew from experience no one would talk to him if he was easily seen in case any witnesses should be passing by.

Deciding that going back to the underworld was the only option he had left, Matt downed his coffee in one go and slammed the mug down on the stained coffee table infront of him. He jumped to his feet and strode straight to the bathroom, determined not to let his nerves dessert him as they so often did when faced with the terrifying task of talking to the men of the underworld. He would not let his hopes fade away so easily. He would not let King simply turn him away and forget about him. He would find someone who could help him, and then once he had found the location of his parent’s killer he would return to King and arrange the revenge he coveted.

XXX

“You called sir?”

King was stood in his office, facing the sketch he had pinned to the wall with his arms resting behind his back. For a moment he acted as if he hadn’t heard Hunter, but eventually he turned slowly to face him with an expressionless gaze. He had been thinking a lot since Matt had left the house, and as much as he didn’t like to admit it, his curiosity was piqued.

“I want you to go out and fetch Mr Futrelle for me.” He told Hunter in his cool, soft voice. “Bring him here... I have a need to talk with him.” King turned to face the sketch again, lazily waving his hand at Hunter to indicate he should go. Hunter bowed his head respectfully though King didn’t see, and then left the room without another word.

King often had Hunter do jobs such as this. He was more than his chauffer, he was his messenger and his confidant and, Hunter supposed, probably the only thing close to a friend that King had. He had met King when he was little more than sixteen years old, by then he had already been killing people for a fee and he had enough money to tempt Hunter into his services within minutes. At the time Hunter had been in desperate need of a job and hadn’t expected to stay working for King for long; but oddly he had come to enjoy working for the teenager and as the years went by Hunter felt a sort of loyalty to the young man and knew now he would never leave his side.

Picking up the Daimler’s keys from where he left them in a small dish in the hall, Hunter pulled on his white driver’s gloves and picked up his black hat before making his way outside to the car.

Mr Futrelle was a man that King often conferred with. He was the head of a large gang that operated within the centre of the city, and if there was anyone in the underworld you needed to find he was the man to go to. Futrelle didn’t much like King, and often tried to refuse meeting with him, but the two men had a past and King never let him forget that he owed him. Hunter had only been unable to make him come to the house once, and after three of Futrelle’s best men ‘mysteriously disappeared’ the problem never arose again.

As the Daimler disappeared down the driveway King stood watching it from his study window. His face was a mask of calm but his thoughts was running rampant in his head. Who was the man in the sketch and why had he killed Matt’s parents? Had he spared Matt at the time for being a child or had he simply not seen him? Was he some sort of mobster or was he just an everyday killer? Where was he now? All of these questions did not plague King, they inspired him. He enjoyed his job and took great pleasure in what he did, but he rarely had a client that raised questions like these. Though they were not in any way unique, they were the sort of questions police had to deal with often, King rarely bothered with them.

King considered himself to be something of a genius. He had always enjoyed learning and things like puzzles and brainteasers entertained him for a time. Being able to murder as he did without getting caught was no easy feat, and his greatest secret was how he managed to carry out his job without leaving behind any traces that could lead back to him. No one had dared asked him how he did it, people simply knew he would never reveal his answers. Not even Hunter knew King’s tricks.

Now though he had been effectively killing without evidence for years and he was growing bored again. He still enjoyed the killing, but he longed for a client who brought something new to the table. Matt’s story may have been no different to many King had heard before, and though the fact he had come to him without even knowing his target’s where abouts was infuriating, King couldn’t let such an opportunity pass him by. He had no doubt he would be able to find Matt’s parents killer with ease, and it posed a puzzle that should keep him occupied for a small amount of time. At least until another client presented themselves; it would certainly be more interesting than lounging around the house waiting for something to happen.

King turned away from the window and smirked as he sauntered across the room to stand before the sketch again. He gazed into the black biro eyes and let a slow grin split his features. He raised a hand to the drawing and rubbed his thumb over one of the eyes to smudge the ink in a long, drawn out circle whilst singing “I’m gonna get you...”

XXX

The air was frigid as Matt walked down the street, pulling his jacket tighter around himself and hunching up his shoulders against the wind. It was late now, well past midnight and the streets were deserted.

Matt had left his house some time ago, walking into the centre of the city so that he didn’t risk getting his car seen. Though it was highly unlikely that anyone would be following him or that the police would see his car and trace it back to him for dealing with mobsters he still didn’t want to run the risk; and the men he was going to see wouldn’t appreciate him driving either.

Matt’s heart felt as though it were in his throat as he walked steadily down the street, keeping to the shadows and staring down at his feet for the most part. There was a large part of him that wanted nothing more than to turn back and go back home; dealing with the men of the underworld was never a good experience and after what he had been through with King that day he wasn’t sure he could handle anymore intimidation. His nerves were shot and he was dying for a drink; but somehow he managed to force himself to keep walking and not look back.

Once he had reached the city centre Matt started to turn down side streets and weave his way round the back of buildings and down alleys where people never ventured to go. The wind was louder here, whistling as it blew between buildings and causing Matt to shudder as paranoia gripped him. The deeper he walked through the alleys the darker it became; there were no street lamps here, only the light from the moon shining between the buildings but on cloudy nights like this there was practically no light to see by and the sensation of being watched grew stronger and stronger.

Matt resisted the urge to glance over his shoulder and quickened his pace. He knew that no one would be around this area; he had to go further still before he had any hope of finding anyone.

It was another ten minutes before he reached a small clearing. There was an alley stretching on before him and a large building to his left. The building had long been abandoned, its windows and doors boarded up. Matt thought it might have been a school or a library once, before other buildings were built around it, but that was just his own speculation. Either way it now served as an entrance to what he considered the underworld of the city. There was a small gap at the side of the building that ran down the length of a fence, and it was by walking through there that the door to a basement could be found. It was in this basement that Matt believed different men of the underworld would meet up on certain nights.

Matt had never been to the basement, there was always someone keeping watch in the shadows to ensure anyone who wasnt part of the underworld didn’t get in there. Matt had been here only a few times before, but he was always able to find someone to talk to whenever he ventured towards the building.

Tonight would be no different.

“Hey you.” Matt jumped and turned in the direction of the voice. He had been making a beeline for the gap down the side of the building when the person had spoke, and when Matt turned he saw the orange flicker of a match held to a cigarette. There was a man stood in the shadow of the boarded up doorway, Matt had looked there and hadn’t even seen him.

“You’re that guy who keeps coming here aren’t you?” Matt couldn’t see the face of the man who spoke, but he recognised his thick London accent from a previous visit. “What you after now eh?”

“I... I need to speak to someone...” Matt said as strongly as he could, clenching his fists and straightening his back in an attempt to martial his confidence and not let his voice waver. “I need to find someone, and I was hoping one of your bosses could help me.”

“Bosses?” The other man chuckled, spitting onto the floor before sauntering out from the doorway so that he could be seen more clearly. In the darkness his features were still difficult to make out, but Matt could now see the outline of his body. He wore black clothes, as was expected, and had a flat cap pulled low over his eyes. The glow of his cigarette caused large shadows to appear beneath his facial features, making him look eerie as he grinned at Matt. “I only have one boss.”

“I’d like to talk to him.” Matt held his head up high, his body tense as he tried to sound like he knew what he was doing. Even though he had been here before he was never entirely sure what to expect or how to behave.

The smoking man leant his weight onto one hip and cocked his head to the side as he observed Matt silently. For a while he ignored his request and simply smoked his cigarette as he looked at him in the darkness, his brows knitted into a frown. He knew nothing of Matt except his face and that he had been here before. He didn’t know why he came here, but he was obviously no one important or the man would have been told something about him. It was clear he came here without being invited thinking he could just chat with a mobster whenever he pleased.

“Why?” The man finally asked, his tone scathing. Matt blushed under his hard gaze and shuffled his feet awkwardly, his heart racing.

“I just need to talk to him.” He replied with a shrug, trying to appear non chalant but it was clear this man wasn’t going to make things easy for him.

“Why don’t you tell me why you wanna talk to him, and I’ll tell you if he’s interested.” The man replied immediately, still leaning on one hip. He raised his cigarette to his chapped lips and took a long drag as he waited for Matt to respond.

“I...” Matt hesitated, his nerves almost deserting him as he considered just turning and walking away. But he wasn’t entirely sure this man would let him just disappear so he stayed facing him, clenching and unclenching his fists as he took a deep breath to calm himself. He wasn’t exactly after anything secret so he saw no harm in explaining why he was here, he just hadn’t been expecting to have to explain himself.

“I’m looking for the man who killed my parents. I know what he looks like, but I have no idea where he might be. I thought here might be a good place to start asking around for him.” He eventually spat out, his body so tense now that his muscles were aching. He forced himself to hold the gaze of the smoking man, who’s eyebrows had raised in surprise at his words.

“Is that so?” He drawled, his accent even stronger when he spoke around the cigarette between his lips. “You got a picture of him?”

“A drawing.” Matt nodded, jumping to action in his eagerness for help. Perhaps this man would be able to help him and he wouldn’t even have to speak to his boss. His hands shook as he quickly pulled open his jacket and fumbled in the inner pocket for the drawing he had folded inside. “I just... Uh, it’s here somewhere um... Ah! Here.” Matt seized the paper and whipped it into site, stepping forward anxiously as he smoothed out the creases gently and then handed it to the other man. “That’s how he looked about twenty years ago, I haven’t seen him since then. I had to draw it from memory but I’m sure it’s pretty accurate...” Matt’s voice was soft, hopeful, trailing off as he gazed intently at the smoking man as he gazed at the drawing with some curiosity.

The smoking man was silent for a long moment, just staring at the paper in his hand and taking it all in. He was more interested in his smoking than the drawing, but he pretended otherwise. For a good while he didn’t speak, he waited until Matt was practically shaking with anticipation before looking up at him and thrusting the paper back into his hand.

“Nope. Sorry, don’t know him.” He announced, popping the ‘p’ on nope and turning to walk back to the doorway he had been standing in before. Matt watched him with a stunned expression, his heart racing ever faster as he clutched his drawing and shook his head.

“What? Are you sure?” He gasped, hurrying forward after the man. “Please I really need to find this man. If you could just talk to your boss, let me show him the drawing I could –”

“Listen man, I can’t help you.” The other man scoffed, rounding on Matt and letting his cigarette butt drop so that it fell onto Matt’s shoe. “Why do you want to find this guy anyway? You said he killed your parents, so you trying to find him to kill him or something?” He demanded, raising his eyebrows at Matt though now the glow from his cigarette had gone it was even harder to make out his expression.

“I... N – No, no I... I’m not trying to kill him.” Matt stuttered, quickly backing off. He got the impression he had said something wrong and that if he didn’t get out of here soon he was going to end up hurt. “I was just... Look, take the picture.” Matt quickly handed the drawing back to the other man, pushing it into his hands as he walked menacingly towards him. To Matt’s surprise he held onto the paper, though he didn’t move his gaze from Matt’s face.

“Please, just show that to your boss. Show it to anyone and ask if they know this man.” Matt pleaded, walking backwards again as he stared nervously at the man approaching him. “If you find any information then call Stock n’ Buy and ask for Matt.” With these final words Matt turned and ran before the man could get any nearer, his nerves finally deserting him so that he ran as fast as he could back the way he had came and towards the main road.

Matt knew that if he had stayed another moment things would have turned ugly. Dealing with men of the underworld was always risky, but Matt could tell that he had said or done something that had made the man in the doorway suddenly turn against him. He only hoped that he would still show the drawing around at least, though he didn’t hold much hope that any information would get back to him. He felt as if he had finally ruined any chance he had of getting his revenge.

XXX

“Alright you, you can’t keep dragging me here like this! I am not your dog!”

“Futrelle! How good it is to see you, please come in. Sit down. Can I interest you in some tea?” King grinned sweetly at the furious mobster and waved his hand at a chair already set up for him. Hunter had brought Futrelle straight to King’s study where the killer had been busy setting up a small tea table complete with cake stand and a full tea tray along with two garden chairs. Futrelle did not look impressed by the set up.

“No I don’t want any bloody tea you bastard! I told you, you can’t keep dragging me away I was in the middle of –”

“Oh SPARE me you’re dramatics Giovanni.” King sighed in a sing-song voice, his habit of shouting and then speaking softly once more coming into play. It was something he did when he was really in his element, when he was busy manipulating and working he felt it added an extra something; though it would be wrong to say it was forced, the way King spoke just happened naturally and he let it.

Giovanni Futrelle was one of the city’s most notorious gangsters and it was clear being offered cake and tea was not something he was used to or appreciated. Though his name suggested otherwise he was just as British as King, though he came from Italian heritage. King suspected that probably had something to do with his ferocious temper. He was an intimidating figure for most, but King had never feared the man, though he did respect him. Futrelle was the go to man for most things in the underworld, he could get you anything, do any job, and all in a limited time frame. Though his price for doing it was never an easy bill to pay.

“Please, sit.” King’s sickly sweet tone was back as he smiled and gestured once more at one of the garden chairs. Futrelle held his gaze for a long moment, scowling deeply at him and looking as though he was considering punching him. Only after a long, tense silence had passed did the mobster finally scoff and stride to the little table, sitting down in the opposite chair to the one King had indicated.

Unphased King smiled and sat down in the free seat, chatting amicably as if the two were good friends as he delicately lifted the antique china tea pot from the tray between them and filled their tea cups.

Futrelle continued to glare at King as the man chattered brightly about the weather, only serving to make the mobster even angrier as he tapped his fat fingers impatiently on the metal table top. He despised King and his work. Though he had no problem with murder in general, King’s work was sucking away a lot of the clientele Futrelle had once been able to offer his services too. But his work was much messier and riskier than what King could do, and Futrelle had none of the man’s grace or flair for the dramatic. In his opinion King was nothing more than an arrogant, camp little man who needed kicking down to size, but as much as Futrelle wished he could get him out of the picture it was impossible to get the upper hand over King.

“I’m sure you’re wondering why I asked you here.” King finally stopped making small talk and handed a cup and saucer to Futrelle before sliding the second closer to himself. Futrelle ignored his own tea, gritting his teeth so that he didn’t snap and let his temper get the better of him as he was forced to wait for King to add milk and sugar to his own cup.

King took great pleasure in forcing the mobster to wait for him, knowing it was irritating him and enjoying the way it caused an electric tension in the room. After tasting his tea and deeming it acceptable King turned to the cake stand and took a good while examining every cake and biscuit before selecting a pink iced fairy cake and placing it neatly on a napkin beside his cup and saucer. By the time he looked to Futrelle again the man was practically shaking in frustration, the vein his temple visibly pulsing and his jaw tense from his clenched teeth.

“Have a fairy cake.” King offered sweetly, smirking when Futrelle snarled and banged his fist down loudly on the table.

“Just tell me why you brought me here King!” He snarled, managing not to raise his voice only with a supreme amount of effort. King’s smirk grew, his long pale fingers reaching out to pick up his own fairy cake and slowly remove its paper case.

“I have a job for you.” He finally spoke, pushing the paper case aside and then smudging a fingertip through the pink icing atop the cake, his eyes focused on that rather than Futrelle, almost as if he had forgotten he was there and was now speaking to himself. “Do you see the drawing behind me?”

Futrelle sighed and frowned, moving his gaze over King’s shoulder and spotting the drawing pinned to the wall behind him. He shrugged and nodded, not seeing what was so important about it.

“Yeah.”

“I need you to find that man.” King sucked the icing off his finger with diligence, licking away every trace of stickiness before picking up his tea cup and gazing over it at Futrelle as he sipped at the tea. “Think you can do that?”

“What do you need him for?” Futrelle eyed King suspiciously, though his question had been mostly sarcastic. He knew that King only ever found people to kill them, but he usually knew where they were, he had never before had to ask for help in order to find someone. “You gonna kill him?”

“That remains to be seen.” King said quietly, sipping at his tea and gazing down at the table for a moment. “Find him for me, that’s all.” King licked his lips and put the cup back down on the saucer, turning his bored expression on Futrelle. “You can go.”

“I don’t think so.” Futrelle scoffed, looking to the drawing again before once more meeting King’s gaze. “I don’t do a job without discussing prices first.” He drawled, his lips twisting into a sneer. He was sick of doing favours for King for nothing in return and he wasn’t going to stand for it anymore. It was making him into a laughing stock, people had started to whisper about him behind his back, calling him King’s pet and he wasn’t going to stand for it.

King looked at Futrelle with the same bored expression though his eyes had lit up with some interest. His lips twitched at the corners as if he was trying not to smile.

“Prices? I don’t pay you.” King cocked his head to the side with a small smirk, his eyes boring into Futrelle’s. “I hope you haven’t forgotten that you work for me.”

“Damn you! I do not work for YOU!” Futrelle’s voice was full of disgust as he shouted, slamming his fist hard down on the table so that it shook and the tea cups clattered in their saucers. No sooner had he sat back than King was on his feet, his own tea cup in hand. Quick as a flash King had smashed his tea cup against the side of the table and flown into Futrelle’s lap, straddling his large thighs as he seized the grey hair at the back of his head and yanked so hard that it almost tore right out, Futrelle snarling as his head was forced backwards.

“Oh dear we have forgotten ourselves haven’t we?” King purred, his voice venomous as he held the broken edge of the tea cup against Futrelle’s neck, pressing the sharpened points lightly against his jugular. “Do not forget I OWN you Giovanni. And I could TEAR your flesh from bone just to wear your skin as a coat.” King gazed intently at the mobster for a long moment, Futrelle not daring to open his mouth and say anything in response.

“Wouldn’t that be a SWEET fashion statement?” King chuckled, relaxing ever so slightly as his outburst calmed down and he grew rational again. He looked to the tea cup and smiled coolly, tracing the sharpened points in a large circle against the side of Futrelle’s neck, scratching the skin so that it bled.

Futrelle winced and clenched his teeth, his eyes boring into King’s as he tried not to let it show that it hurt. There was a dull ache at the back of his head where King still had a vice like grip on his hair, some of the strands breaking loose.

“Mm...” King hummed and smiled, stopping his scratching and just resting the cup against Futrelle’s neck. “I wonder what your little friends would think about their master being killed by a teacup.”

A bead of sweat rolled down the side of Futrelle’s face as he swallowed thickly, the muscles on his neck contracting visibly from his position. He had no doubt that King could, and would, kill him. It was this type of behaviour that reminded him that King would always be one step ahead of him. He could have Futrelle dead before he even had chance to draw his gun, he was at the younger man’s mercy no matter how much he despised it.

“I’ll find him for you.” He finally whispered after staring into King’s calculating eyes for longer than he could bear. “The guy, I’ll find him.”

“Yes you will.” King drawled, smiling as he stroked his free hand down the side of Futrelle’s face. “Good doggy.” He purred, leaning over to press a gentle kiss to Futrelle’s forehead before getting up off his lap.

Futrelle took a deep breath and sat up dizzily, his head spinning as his neck throbbed from where it had been cut. He pressed his hand over it to try and cover the bleeding, scowling with deep hatred at King’s back from where he had turned and strode across the room to rip the drawing off the wall. Futrelle considered shooting him then, burying a bullet between those shoulder blades would give him no greater pleasure but King was already turning back round, picture in hand.

“I like you Giovanni.” King smirked, handing the drawing to the older man and laughing in his face when Futrelle snatched it from him in force. “Easy tiger...” King purred, gazing seductively at the fat man as he got to his feet and faced King for a moment.

“I’ll need a month.” He told him bluntly, King shaking his head with a teasing grin.

“I don’t think so Doll.” He chuckled, stepping up to Futrelle and delicately straightening out his collar and tie for him. “I should give you a day for you insolent behaviour...” King idly rubbed the tie between his fingers, feeling the silk. “But since I like you, and I’m feeling SO generous...” King let the tie drop again, stepping back as his smirk disappeared and he turned serious. “One week.”

“A week!?” Futrelle felt his anger surge forward again, his skin crawling from where King had touched him. “That’s nowhere near enough –”

“ONE. WEEK.” King shouted, his face twisting into a look of sheer rage before growing calm almost immediately, Futrelle’s head reeling. “Now go.” King demanded, sighing as though he had grown suddenly weary and he sank back down into his seat at the metal table. “Before I change my mind and make it a day after all.”

Futrelle snorted in disgust but he didn’t need telling twice. He turned and left the room without another word, tucking the drawing into his suit jacket as he went. He slammed the door shut on King, the younger man having picked up his fairy cake again and he grinned to himself as he listened to Futrelle marching out of the house before he took a greedy bite out of the cake, smearing pink icing around his lips.