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Oliver. King. (cyprian) wrote in bellumlogs,

It was a shame, too. he really liked this record, Jay Z was truly one of the greats, but once that bass started pulse through the room in thick, physical waves.. Trenton got the feeling that the song might be ruined for him. He already didn't much care for what was going on here, and the fact that he was tied to a chair wasn't comforting that it would be getting better in the long run.

Trenton squinted at the stranger when he approached, but didn't struggle against the ties. In the few moments after he'd awoken, Trenton recognized that he could barely move more than an inch either way, and even that had been a strain. His dark eyebrows twitched above quizzical eyes when the man touched the tape and explained that Trenton shouldn't scream. Yeah fucking right. If that tape was coming off, he was going to sing like a canary.

Then the knife came out, and Trenton resigned himself rather quickly to not making a sound. When the point of the blade touched down on an inked clavicle, Trenton's pulse fluttered in the side of his neck like a trapped bird. Fuck. He didn't even have to feign worry, it was there. Real and actual in his gem-toned eyes. While Trenton had some hobbies that could have made a pornstar sick to their stomach, he really wasn't one for violence.

The tape was ripped off and Trenton winced, coughing softly to clear the tender pang in his throat from damn near being choked out. "The fuck, man, I.." Trenton hung his head, getting accustomed to the feeling of fresh air on his tongue. Admit what he did? He racked his brain frantically for a moment. It wasn't so much a question of what he'd done, as what he hadn't done. Shit, was this about Aaron? He could almost think so, but at the same time.. this knife-wielding psycho could be here for a whole fucking variety of things he'd done in the past months. People he'd wronged, girls he'd fucked and fucked over, etc.

"I.." He winced, glancing up at the knife man with a pained expression of cluelessness. Trenton was beginning to get the impression that if he didn't come up with an answer, it was going to hurt a whole lot. Asking to buy a vowel was, of course, his first idea.. but even he wasn't a sarcastic jackass when somebody was waving a razor-sharp knife -- which might as well have been a fucking samurai sword, because NO knife should be that long -- in his face.

He grimaced with an exhale, as if just waiting for the stabbing to commence. "Hypothetically, are you going to.. cut me.. if I ask for a hint?"