(M/n)'s eyes widened as he recognized the voice. Mr. (l/n) growled in a drunken stupor, "It isn't any of your business, IDIOT." (M/n) stumbled away from the figure, slighty afraid, and Mr. (l/n) grabbed (M/n) by the shirt collar and tugged him harshly away from the figure, Mr. (l/n) then spat at the figure's feet, prompting the figure to lock up in place, all the while, a very sinister and ominous smile plastered on his lips. Mr. (l/n) glared into the crimson red eyes of the figure, and the figure stared back. Mr. (l/n) slurred, "Who the HELL are you anyways? You look like a pedofile!" The figure didn't respond, glaring at Mr. (l/n), the pure hatred in those red eyes caused Mr. (l/n) to back off slightly, "A-anyways, (m/n), we have to head back." The figure spoke up, "I don't think so." Mr. (l/n)'s head snapped towards the figure again, "Yeah? And who are you to rule over what I do with my son?!"
The figure casually turned to (m/n), a very mischievous smile crossing his face, leaving (m/n) to gulp nervously.
(A/N: It's not much, but it's something, yeah?)
