drop dead ; phan

xviii

"he's an associate of yours, you've already dragged him in for me. now, go get him. i want to talk."

damien's word echoed in phil's mind for a brief second before he charged at him, ramming his fists up in his shirt. "no, no! i'm the serial killer here, not him!" he growled, his knuckles fading to a white as damien's sinister smirk played across his lips.

"he's in my club, drinking my liquor. plus, when you're in such high ranks like yourself, you could use some assistance in the aspects that don't involve slicing a throat," he spoke, shrugging off phil's grasp. "i have a list ready, now go get him."

phil walked out of the lounge doors hesitantly, being met with a humid wave consisting of intoxicated sweat, slurred screams, and uncoordinated cologne leaking out from underneath the doors of white powder packets and sloppy hookups. he let out a sigh, his gaze finding dan's thin frame fidgeting on the bar stool, that same filthy long-haired, brunette sat beside him.

"ah lester, how are you these days?" he greeted upon meeting phil's cold gaze. "logan," the ebony-haired killer nodded in acknowledgement, quickly turning towards dan. "i uh, you need to come to the back with me," he stammered, assisting dan as he drunkenly stumbled off the stool. "have fun!" logan called, earning a angry glare to glint across phil's blue pupils.

"just couldn't help yourself, could you?" phil muttered bitterly, regarding the cherry vodka radiating off dan's stinging, glossy-outlined lips and nearly-unconscious gait.

his eyes were glossy and tinged with red and his fingers trembling with a combination of alcohol and nerves. phil noticed the brunette's unruly hair start to unravel into little chocolate curls from the amount of humidity and sweat radiating around the room.

"ah. he's had quite a bit to drink, has he?" damien remarked as a nearly-unconscious dan was set upon the couch; phil tensely sat beside him. "we can't possibly do business with him like this," he added dismally, propping up his leg on his knee.

"business? he's not going to work for you," phil spat distastefully, narrowing his eyes in on the elegantly-gaited man. "more so you, actually," he said, "he's going to work for you while you work for me."

"oh, is that right?" phil scowled, crossing his arms. "you both are in dire need of money, and seeing as you aren't willing to leave him, you're essentially being forced to work together. i'm not implying he has to burn hirings at the stake, but work as a bit of, lets say, insurance," damien explained. phil scoffed, "insurance for what?"

"for your safety, your chances of dying from a gunshot wound are slimmer if you have someone to stitch you up."

the room encompassed in a silence of contemplation until the sounds of footsteps carried through the lounge doors. phil shot up from his seat upon laying eyes on the raven-haired, wiry-figured man, a wide smile across his face. "patrick!" he grinned, walking towards the man and enveloping him in a hug.

the man started to move his hands around as phil responded with more hand motions, and it took dan a moment before he realized they were using sign language. phil laughed at something patrick had sighed as they both shuffled towards dan and damien. "dan, this is patrick," phil introduced, and dan sent a small, intoxicated wave.

patrick turned to damien, signing a message that caused his expression to rapidly fade to grim. "fuck. tell him to uh, just tell him to wait, i'll uh, i'll take care of him once i'm done here," he stammered, rubbing his eyes frustratedly. patrick hesitantly nodded, quickly returning to the heat of the club.

"damien the crime lord," phil scoffed in mock astonishment. "getting nervous?"

damien sent a if looks could kill glare towards the murderer in front of him, shrugging off his nerves. "no, no. i-i'm not nervous. i just..." he trailed off. "nevermind, it's nothing. is it a deal then?"