(no subject)

[yuppie-trash.livejournal.com]

Minimalist attempt at entry.

Man. Suit. New York Times. Booth. J&B, rocks.

Humming.

(I’ve got a lovely bunch of coconuts
There they are all standing in a row
Big ones, small ones, some as big as your head
Give them a twist a flick of the wrist
That’s what the showman said )

Comments

[singlesoledjest.livejournal.com]

"That is no answer to my question."

[yuppie-trash.livejournal.com]

"Should I answer?" Monotone, still very polite. The look in his eyes is not altogether there. "Yes."

[singlesoledjest.livejournal.com]

"I can't in good conscience allow that."

He looks sad and regretful.

[yuppie-trash.livejournal.com]

"I would like to see you attempt it."

Briskly, he loosens his tie yet again.

"Wrinkle the Armani suit, and you will find me in a terrible mood."

[singlesoledjest.livejournal.com]

"And you will try to hurt me?"

He smirks.

[yuppie-trash.livejournal.com]

"Not if you want it, it takes all the enjoyment out of it for me." Blandly.

[singlesoledjest.livejournal.com]

"So there is nothing to stop me stopping you, then?"

And around in circles they go.

[yuppie-trash.livejournal.com]

"I suppose not. Other than talking."

He looks at the other, shrugs, and turns away from sprawling Mercutio.

[singlesoledjest.livejournal.com]

Mercutio climbs quietly to his feet. He's feeling socially motivated tonight. He won't let Patrick through the door if he can help it.

[yuppie-trash.livejournal.com]

He is single-minded, knowing only where he door is, and where it will lead.

[singlesoledjest.livejournal.com]

Mercutio spins him around with a firm hand on his shoulder, right into the path of a fist aimed at his jaw. A solid fist.

[yuppie-trash.livejournal.com]

There was a look of surprise on Patrick's face, the handsome regularity of his features twisted a bare second before the punch landed on his jaw. The only thought being: NOT THE FACE, you asshole, before his eyes widened and he lost his footing.

A strange mix of terror and elation, the control was no longer his, falling. The side of his head met with a table as gravity pulled. The sharp crack against his temple and he was out on the floor.

His hair was tousled now, too. He wasn't awake to notice.

[singlesoledjest.livejournal.com]

And now Mercutio has an unconscious psychopath on the floor in front of him.

"Hmmm."

[yuppie-trash.livejournal.com]

If he was conscious, he would be trying to use a nailgun. But this is sadly, not an option. But, as far as knocked out bodies go, he still looked good, and that mattered.

[singlesoledjest.livejournal.com]

Mercutio gets him upstairs (http://yuppie-trash.livejournal.com/5086.html) and tied down. Somehow.

Ours not to reason how.