He blinked at the lights in the basement came back on, rubbing his hands on his dress shirt before rolling his eyes at Evans yell. "Yeah, I probably gave you to much, it happens," Joe muttered, "there's a bucket in the corner, go to town," he said quietly, "I have a date to get back to, and frankly thay date wants me bad," he smirked, it was a lie, but.. to Joe, it was fun to play the sexy, desirable man, especially to toy with ex's.
Joe hit the glass with an annoyed groan, as if this day could get any worse. Now Mr Mooneys valuable chair was in pieces. Joe could see the flashbacks now, if he wasn't so old, he'd beat Joe, he was sure of it. The vein growing angrier on his forehead as he eyed the destruction before him, his eyes observing the man, now he was royally pissed, he eventually planned on killing Evan, not yet, but soon.. but now, now it would be sooner. There were things Joe still needed to know, still needed to get out of him, joes face became red as he tried to calm himself, he wasn't going to kill him yet. He needed to calm down, he hit the glass once more, "the oldest chair.. listen to this guy Ella.. he's psychotic," Joe mumbled to himself, running his hands through his hair. He looked down at his phone, he hadn't been gone that long, the least he could do was get the priceless chair out of there so he could savour what was left of it.
Joe reached around to his back pocket, pulling out a single silver key. Holding his hand against the glass as he shoved the key in. Mumbling curses to himself, "you help someone out and this is how they repay you," he muttered, kneeling down to inspect the handy work.
He held the chair running a hand across the green fabric, "Great..," he sighed, "now I have to fix a chair and clean out a pee bucket," he mumbled, going to stand, but before he could he was smacked over the head, letting out a agitated, pained groan. Joe fell forward, letting go of the chair as he hit the ground cheek first. His eyes closing momentarily.
'Please tell me I locked that door-' was all Joe could think as he regained his senses, he found feel the blood, it was only a little but it was there.
'You didn't think to check were the fourth chair was you MORON' Joe groaned, sitting up and rubbing his head, inspecting the blood on his fingers. 'Now I have to kill him in my good shirt..'
Joe stood, watching the man make a mad dash upstairs. Joe wasn't worried, it was locked, and dark. But there was still a slight sense of panic, he hadn't had anyone get this close to escaping since.
"Me,"
Joe turned to see beck in the corner where he had just been.
"Do-don't do this right now, I have a lot more to worry about," Joe muttered, picking up the knife that fell at his feet when he was struck.
"Joe, don't do this, Evan.. he's innocent, and so is Ella, this isn't right! Your sick! Your a sick man Joe!" Beck yelled.
Joe ran a hand across his skin in frustration, "SHUT UP!" He yelled, the air around him feeling thin as he used Evans panicking upstairs to think. Moving backwards into the shadows.
He had the key, no problem. He clutched the handle of the knife. Staring directly at the man from the shadows, moving around quietly so he could block the staircase, he stepped out, his face red with anger. He hoped Evan wouldn't put up to much of a fight, Joe wasn't a skilled fighter, stabbing? He could do. Without wanting he ran at Evan from behind, his biceps crushing Evans throat, Joe managed to drop the knife in the struggle, trying to look for it as he held on.
'No shit- if he knocks you out, he has the key-' Joe groaned, pushing the man forward to gain a little leverage for the knife. Looking round frantically.
