Please, Stay With Me

Pet

Gray took his time walking the hall, narrowing his eyes, pushing back his shoulders. Today, he'd selected dark black trousers, dress pants even, that were free of any holes, yet hugged his figure tight as skinny jeans. Alluring all the while. For a shirt, he'd selected a long white, collared, dress shirt, of which he'd left the top three buttons unbuttoned, making a nice v down his front. Though, you couldn't see much past that, as atop it, he wore a black vest, following that neck-line to a T, they lined up perfectly, leaving the illusion of a lack of fabric along his chest. Gray planned all this intentional, as selling himself as something greater than he was had become a second nature. Too often he reduced himself to what he had to offer, to what was the most convenient way to get what he wanted.

Even if it only further hollowed that horrible, ever-deepening, hole in his chest, I'll do it all the same.

The small boy took a small breath, allowing his eyes to follow the grain of the wooden door. Solid and without a window. There was no false indicators of openness, everything Donald was building was behind closed doors of course, not open to gawks from purposeless onlookers. A moment more passed as he checked his watch. 12:59 flicked promptly over to 1:00. This was the lighter, dancing it's flame across the wick of dynamite, a time-sensitive matter. Gray would only have so long to try to extinguish it before everything he'd worked all this time for blew up in his face. Leaving him alone in the wake.

He rapped at the door three times, paused, then rapped four more times.

"Come in," Spoke a voice, dull in tone. Gray recognized the voice almost immediately, and did as he was told. Upon opening the door to Donald's office, he was met with Kingsley, a boring red-head who wasn't as smart as him nor as useful. Gray wasn't entirely certain why Donald kept him around at all, in Gray's opinion, his lack of brawns was a vulnerability, it was only a matter of time before it was horribly exploited. "Gray Yeon." The taller nodded to him, as they traded places. Kingsley walked into the light, free, while Gray was tossed into the lion's den.

Oh well, it was nothing he couldn't handle. His violet eyes focused on the figure behind the dark desk. Fingers interlocked, elbows rested atop files, dangerous glare in his red eyes as he studied the other's approaching figure. Donald Na had quite the presence, most would tremble under that gaze, though Gray embraced it. Once again, nothing he couldn't handle. "Donald," He left out the surname and honorifics as he turned his back to his leader, his boss, the Union's dictator. Gray closed the door in a painfully slow manner, leaving as much time as possible for Donald to get a good look at him, "Here as instructed," The smaller spoke, turning back to the other as he strided confidently and took a seat. 

Few were as willing as Gray, to meet Donald in his office. Few could sit across from him without shaking in fear. Few could meet his eyes when he spoke, usually averting them in a show of "respect". The other smiled a sickening smile, he liked Gray's boldness more than the smaller was willing to admit, "If it isn't my White Mamba, punctual as ever," Donald was more transparent than he thought, surely, Gray looked right past him as if he were nothing more than a panel of stained glass. Colorful, eye-catching, confusing.

"Punctuality is one of the fundamentals of good etiquette," He hummed back, tilting his head as he spoke slow, careful, "Only a fool would arrive late to your meetings," Gray poised himself in the chair with perfect posture, sitting forward on the edge of the seat, rather than sinking back into the plush. The Union's White Mamba would never make himself appear smaller than he already was, nor would he ever slink away from adversity.

Red eyes skimmed his figure, closely hugged by fabric, buttons un-buttoned, "That is rather true..." They lingered in a way that made him feel dirty, useless, a slut reduced to... this. He'd done this to himself. If he was useful beyond his brain, beyond his smarts, beyond his looks. If he was everything, the full package, all there was to offer and ask of a person, then he became vital, un-expendable, someone Donald not only needed but wanted, in many ways. If he could ensure his place, solidifying himself wherever he needed to be, wherever would make the house of cards crumble without his contributions of stability, then he could- "Now," Donald continued, a slight clearing of his throat breaking the silence, "You're making quite a name for yourself..."