Tender gangster

The centre of cat's gravity

Notes: Imagine that always cool-headed Kinn's father unexpectedly tells Kinn off after some failure...

(Kinn and Porsche aren't together yet.)

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In fact, it was an ordinary deal. But something went wrong at the last moment. Strong guys from the warring clan appeared, a shootout began, the partner went out of the game and refused further cooperation. And you understand well, and everyone understands well, that Kinn is, in fact, not to blame. Even if it was his field of responsibility. As if any of the deals are not his personal field of responsibility. But his father thought differently. Instead of the usual educational and philosophical conversation, Kinn was rudely told off and, as some guards say, but you try not to believe, the case ended with a whipping slap that flew across Kinn's face. You know very well how hard it is for Kinn to admit defeat. But it is even harder to him to feel that he has let everyone down, especially his father. It's easy for you to imagine what's going on in the soul of this strong, proud, but, to tell the truth, very vulnerable guy who constantly has to hide his hard feelings under an armor of prudery and arrogance.

He's been hiding in his den for two days in a row. He doesn't want to see anyone. His orders do not sound over your temple, the coffee that you bring in the morning, you have to secretly drink yourself — Kinn never opens the door to you. You start to worry: does he eat anything there at all?

Pete manages to find out that Kinn took the lunch tray, but refuses dinner for the second night in a row.

No. It's not going to work that way. It's time to get this sulking bear cub out of the den.

After lights out, you gain either the audacity, or the courage, or all together — and head to him, having previously shoved a packet of pistachios, a chocolate bar and a can of soda into your pocket. Of course, it's better for Kinn not to know where you got all this "forbidden stuff".

The newcomers standing at the entrance prudently block your way.

"Uh... I need to... I was called."

"We haven't heard Khun Kinn called anyone."

Your heart is racing. For some reason, you didn't even bother to think that you needed to come up with a more or less valid reason for your overnight visit.

"Well, you tell him that I've come. He... he knows."

What exactly Kinn should know was also not provided by you.

One of the bodyguards rolls his eyes, but informs Kinn of your arrival. Silence follows. And then you all hear the muffled voice of the owner:

"Let him come in."

You exhale and, with a triumphant flash of your eyes, go inside.

Kinn...

His marsala-colored robe is half open at the chest, and his hair seems to have been last washed and styled two days ago. The room smells of whiskey mixed with the scent of Kinn's perfume. He himself is sitting on the floor near the panoramic window, with one leg bent at the knee and the back of his head thrown back on the edge of the bed.

"Kinn," you come closer and tilt your head, "Kinn?.."

"Why did you come? Haven't I made it clear enough that I don't want to see anyone for the next few days?"