Pleasing

<3

I persuaded Mr. Zabell to bring me along for one more trip. He allowed it.

He said we needed to walk a few miles though, and I nodded. We get out of the car, and crickets are heard roaming around the grass next to us. What a nice cold... lovely night. I love it... Heh.

"Merde." He mumbles five minutes in, taking his suit jacket off. "O-oh, thanks! W-wait, what about you? It's not fair to you to be cold..." I gulp, sliding my arms through it. Smells like him. "Ça va aller," he hums with his hands in his pockets. (I'll be fine.)

I look around, almost tripping on a stick. A stick. What? That makes no sense! He wraps his arm around my waist, tucking it under the jacket. He was warm. "Watch where you're walking, chaton," he grumbles. (Kitten.) "Right, yep," I say, biting my lip. His thumb was rubbing the curve of my waist. Gosh, his touch can do a lot!

Just like those fingers! Kidding. Jennifer, you're gross.

"How mu—" "Two minutes." He speaks, pulling me closer as we take a turn. "Ne pas parler," he says in my ear. "W-what does th—" "Be quiet and heads down." He tugs at my waist, making me put my hand on his chest.

"Elle est sexy," I hear with a couple of laughs. (She is sexy.) "Oh, ça c'est un bon cul," I hear beside me. (Oh, that's a good ass!) "Watch yourself!" he growls. "Si vous pensez que je plaisante, mettez-moi à l'épreuve," he growls. "Cette fois, je vais tirer les yeux fermés, oui?" (If you think I'm kidding, try me. Just try me.) (This time I'll shoot with my eyes closed, yes?)

I'm not sure who he's talking to, but we soon hear music blasting. He keeps his hold on me tight and keeps my head in place.

"There." He hums, moving away and sliding onto the stool. I just stand, knowing it's too high. "I-I like sta—" "Sit." He demands. "Chaton, assis," he sighs. (Kitten, sit.)

I lean against the chair, jumping up but failing. "I think I'm fin—" He grabs my waist, pulling me up. "Just ask," he sighs. "S-sorry," I mumble.

A blue-haired guy with colorful tattoos running down his neck walks up behind the counter. "Qui est ce chéri?" he asks with a nice soothing voice. (Who is this darling?) "Très beau," he hums, and I smile back before flickering my eyes to Mr. Zabell. "She doesn't speak French," I hear him say, and I nod slowly. "Ahh!" the guy nods, looking at me. "Hi! I'm Jennifer, b-but you can call me Jenny or u-uh Jen!" I nod, biting my lip and looking around. "Dosso," he says. (Doll.)

"Very beautiful."

"No." Mr. Zabell sighs. "I'm Vin. Or Vinny," he hums, ignoring him. "Foyer, oui?" he groans to Vin. (Focus, yes?)

He's such a grumpy person. I bet he's a softie though—he just needs the right person for hugs! Like me. Or Vin!

"Vin, do you give good hugs? I think Mr. Zabell ne—" "No." I hear beside me. I frown and pull at my skirt.

"Il nous suit," I hear from Z. (He's following us.) "Wow..." Vin whispers, running his hands through his blue hair. His wrists were layered with bracelets and bangles. "I have a bracelet just like t-that! Look!" I lean over, showing my wrist, and both their eyes flicker down. I smile. "Oui..." he hums, smiling back. "Twins." He smirks and pulls his own wrist back, as do I.

"Let me talk to Calumn. Stay with Vinny," Z says, looking down at me. I furrow my eyebrows. "C-can I come with you?" I ask, scared. I'm not scared of Vinny but of what's around me. "Please," I crack out, rubbing my shaking hands.

He stands up and rubs my palms with his tatted thumbs. "Respirer, chaton," he says, looking right into my brown eyes.

Gosh, his eyes were perfect. I think by now I know that means breathe, but I'm not sure what chaton means.

"Oui?" he hums, tilting my head. "I'll be right back. Vinny is here, and he won't leave," he adds before moving away from me.

"Ahh, breathe!" he hisses, cupping my face as my lip trembles. I nod. "Pr-promise you'll come back? Pinky promise?" I ask, looking up at him, and he sighs, closing his eyes. "Vraiment..." he speaks. (Really.)

He hooks his pinky around mine and stares at me again. "Promesse," he says before looking at Vin. "Gardez-la en sécurité," he says sternly as he moves away. (Keep her safe.)

I watch him walk through the crowd.

"He'll come back," Vinny says with a smile.

We ended up playing Tic Tac Toe! I won three times. Three out of ten...

"Do you want a drink?" he asks, and I shake my head. "I don't drink, but do you have any ginger ale?" I ask, twirling in my chair.

He nods, walking in the back, and soon pops back up with a fresh bottle. He slides it over, and I smile, thanking him. "Thanks!" I speak.

"What's your favorite show? B-because mine is Spongebob or Criminal Minds!" I ramble.

Vinny let me talk for the whole forty minutes we were there. He just nodded and hummed, making sure to tell me he's listening.

"So, what's your favorite color then?" I ask him, smiling, but he looks behind me. "Vin?" I ask slowly.

He shakes his head as he stares back at me. "Red." He smiles. I nod. "I like it, but sometimes it makes me cringe," I hum.

"Hey, why don't we go for a little walk, yes?" he asks quickly, and I hesitate. "We need to meet with Marcel," he sighs, seeing me tense. "Marce—Zabell." He smirks, knowing he never told me.

I nod.

He grips my arm and rushes through the crowd, and I'm confused. I get pushed by these bodies, their sweat and hips. "I-I V— ow!" I get pushed in the face with an elbow bashing into my nose.

Oh my god! Shoot! Blood!

"V-Vinny..." I whimper with a trembling lip, holding my nose. "We're almost there, I promise, Dosso," he says, pushing us through a door, and I get a wind pushed into my face.

"V-vinny, please," I cry out with blurry vision. My nose stings with pain, and it's pulsing!

"Holy sh— Vinzin!" I hear a raspy voice booming.

I wipe my face, seeing an angry Marcel. "What the— Merde." He puts my face in his hands and lifts my head up. All that was heard was my cries and hiccups. I grip his wrist, seeing his angry face.

A damp feeling is patted under my nose. "Boss, I—" "Ferme," he growls, interrupting Vinny.

"Merde, are you okay, chaton?" he asks, cleaning me up.

"Ne pleure pas!" he says to me with furrowed eyebrows. (Do not cry!) "Please, chaton, no more tears," he sighs, looking into my eyes before bringing me to the car.

He sets me down and rubs my cheeks. My chest heaves as I try and calm down. Why am I crying? I'm fine! No crying, Jennifer! Why am I such a baby?

I cry harder as these thoughts roll in.

"We need to leave, Vin," he hisses, jumping in and shutting the door. He slides me onto his lap, and I don't think anything about it except the fact that my throat hurts and my head and nose!

"Breathe, chaton," he coos.

I take deep breaths as he guides me—through nose and out mouth. "Better?" he asks, looking into me, and I nod slowly.

"I-I'm so sorry!" I whisper. "I didn't mean to cry!" I add, looking down, seeing his hands wrapped around mine. I play with his rings, trying to forget all of this.

"Don't worry, chaton," he hums.

"I—" "No, shhh," he says, and I just lay my forehead against his chest.

I could practically feel his abs under me. His scent was just addicting. Mint... so fresh and clean. "You smell really good," I hum accidentally.

Shoot! Bad Jennifer. Stop!

He just hums and rubs my back.