La Petit Mort

24

"Welcome back," Dottore smiled, opening up his apartment door. "I made you a cake," he guided Pantalone into the kitchen to see the custom cake with the words 'welcome back' on it. 

"What flavor?" 

"Mystery," Dottore pointed. "Give it a try." 

"Is this some elaborate failed attempt at becoming a baker?" Pantalone sat down and stared at the cake. Dottore placed a knife in front of him and some plates with silverware. He wanted his piece too. 

"Give it a go before you doubt it," Dottore smiled in a way that Pantalone didn't appreciate. He was hiding something. 

"Right then," Pantalone cut into the cake and placed the piece on his plate. It oozed a red liquid. "This looks like a cursed red velvet," he said, poking the cake with his fork. He brought the dessert to his lips. 

"Well?" 

"It's...good..." Pantalone stared, amazed. "For something that looks so ominous it really is delicious." 

"Ooooh, lovely," Dottore cut himself a slice. "I was finally able to figure out how to mask the taste of iron," he grinned. 

"The what?" Pantalone looked at the cake again. There was definitely something wrong with it but he couldn't place what. 

"Dottore, you never did tell me what you did with that surprise 'friend'," he cleared his throat, unable to avoid the pit in his stomach. 

"You're a smart one, Pantalone," he pointed his fork at him. "I'm sure you know the answer. Don't worry, I gave her a stern talking to beforehand," he stabbed his slice of cake, breaking it up into little pieces with his fork. 

"How dare she grab you like that," he gritted his teeth and mumbled curses. The pieces turned to cake mush. 

Pantalone grabbed his hand, stopping the cake violence. "Thank you." 

"We're in this together now, you and I," Dottore placed his other hand on top of Pantalone's, squeezing it. 

"I wouldn't have it any other way," Pantalone smiled, taking another bite of cake. 

...

"You're moving in?" someone stared at the ginger, confused. "Even with the rumors?" 

"The rumors make it cheap," he replied, giving the person a thumbs up. "I can't afford much else. I'm sending money home to my big family." 

The person looked both ways before whispering: "People go missing! Stay away from the former doctor and that banker fellow. The cops haven't caught them for anything but they're bad news I tell you, bad news!" 

"Thanks," he smiled and waved goodbye, walking inside the complex. He pressed the button for the elevator and was surprised to see two people with very distinct auras. One with shark teeth and the other with long dark hair and glasses. 

"I suppose you're our new neighbor." The one with glasses smiled. "Feel free to let us know if you need anything. We don't bite." 

"Usually," the shark-toothed fellow snickered. 

As they exited, the one placed his hand on the newbie's shoulder. "By the way," he began, adjusting his glasses and leaning in close for a whisper, "you should think about the smell of your suitcase next time." 

The elevator doors closed and the ginger looked down at his suitcase. He knelt to check that nothing was opened but cursed under his breath at the red stain appearing on the bottom. 

"Gotta hand it to 'em," he snickered. "I sure fucking hope this place lives up to the rumors."