Finding LeBeau just under his foot, Creed kicked the huddled mass again for good measure before there was a panicked knock at the door. Grabbing the kid up by his throat, Creed brought him to eye level and punctuated each word with a threatening growl. “Make one little peep and I’m throwing your sorry ass out that window, ya hear?” Not caring if the kid had understood the actual words he had said (knowing he had understood the meaning), dragged the boy into the bedroom, which was more of a nest with all of the sheets and blankets and pillows laying everywhere, and threw him down at the head of the bed. Whipping out two pairs of hand cuffs, Creed secured LeBeau to the bed and left the room, slamming the door shut behind him, knowing that if the kid tried to blow the bed up he would incinerate his own hands.
Growling in annoyance at all of the smoke, the feral opened the apartment’s two windows to air it out before going to answer the door, running a hand through his hair as he opened the door. “Swear to god, that is the last time I try to cook!”