Bastille Imagines

All This Bad Blood Pt. III

He smirks.

The motherfucker. Smirks in your face like it was some kind of joke that you were so gullible to believe. Dan looks away from you pursing his lips in a mock laughter whilst helping himself to Charlie's drink, finishing every last drop.

"You're really something." He says. "Feisty. And courageously stupid." He chuckles. This is your death wish, in fact, probably better off as being labelled as your suicide. Was it really worth all that nervous anticipation just for him to laugh it off? Well, it wasn't exactly what you were expecting and it's not like you're complaining. You'd happily take any alternative to a knock out. You search through all of the corners of your brain for words, finding all of a sudden that your vocabulary has become very limited in the heat of the moment.

You sink your teeth deep into your plump lips, awaiting Dan's next move because you've came up blank. Having little else to say, his eyes roam your face watching you bite lip, triggering a reaction from him to lick his. You can feel the anchor in the pit of your stomach making you feel anxiously sick and desperately wanting to make your way home. Despite being many others in the room and plenty of witnesses, Dan somehow makes you feel isolated; stuck and surrounded by four, big thick walls separating you and him from the outside world.

"Charlie's your friend?" He asks, curiosity intertwining his words. His voice is much calmer, less threatening and hostile.

"Yes." You simply answer. You swallow the thick lump in your throat, holding down the nerves.

He leans forward with his elbow propped on the table, his eyes boring into yours.

"You tell him; that his brother deserved to die, he knew what he was doing behind my back. He isn't what Charlie makes him out to be. And as for you, why don't you keep you nose out of other people's business if you don't consider yourself to be part of a gang. Hm?" He mutters softly. Behind that calm veneer comes anger, rage and the urge to lash out and punish you for your - what he would consider to be a -rude remark. The heat slowly rises up your neck in anticipation of his next mood swing. He really is temperamental which makes things ten times worse because you don't know how long you can bear being with him, you don't know what his intentions are; either something extremely volatile or something devious. His slightly flirtatious gestures makes you uneasy, since you can't predict what he's trying to lead on.

He lifts his hand and gently sweeps away the strand of hair obstructing your face. You look up to see many of the ring leaders glaring at you, waiting with anxiety and the anticipation of another out lash.

"In fact," He whispers seductively, tilting his head. "You just might come in quite handy."

Oh no.

Your breath hitches at the thought of being manipulated by him, running around doing his dirty jobs. It's just not your lifestyle.

"Tell me, do you have a job?" He asks, once again massaging his chin. You don't exactly feel inclined to tell him, but for the sake of your health, you obey.

"I'm a...I work in a diner." You mutter incoherently, but Dan seemingly picks up on it.

"And do you enjoy it? I mean, isn't there something else you'd rather be doing? There are plenty of other things you could doing and also getting a thrill from it."

"What are you saying?"

"Do you enjoy it?" He asks, getting quite persistent and impatient.