Re: In the woods, near a path
This Romeo wasn't afraid of a little poison. Dying a few times could really build one's character, and there were so many options ranging from cyanide, to hemlock, to Drano. Dying for love might have been a sucker's bet, but there were worse ways to go, and certainly worse reasons. Poison, especially, wasn't a concern tonight, not with the careless way he'd knocked back that little medicine bottle of bad news, not with the way he'd been smoking with all the dedication of a house on fire. The party cocktail that came in it's little brown bottle had been without a label. It'd been reckless to knock the mystery swill back without any care for the aftermath, but he figured that it was best to get it over and done with. Besides, what was the worse that could happen? Actually, don't answer that, because we all, dear audience, will soon find out.
He didn't bother explaining to her that endangered species weren't getting preserved on black markets where bad men like him were sure to do all their Sunday shopping for tiger skin rugs and human organs kept on ice. That kind of thinking out loud would probably spook a Bo Peep like herself, and he was doing his best at the moment to wear sheep's clothing. Never mind that his smile, while friendly, showed too many teeth in the torch light. Never mind that he kept his hands buried deep in his front pockets, fingers curling into the cords of muscle that made up the thighs beneath pocket lining. His nails, while short and blunt, dug deep into the muscle of his legs like there was still a part of him that wanted to remember how bad of an idea this might be. But tonight, he wasn't going to be taking his own advice.
Instead, he chose to pursue the subject of her boyfriend, who was thankfully missing in action at the moment. "Maybe I'm jealous," although the words came so easy from beyond the Cheshire curve of all those teeth that jealousy seemed an unlikely motive for bad men like him. Men like him, they took what they wanted, and it didn't matter if it was somebody else's most prized possession or orphaned trash left behind in a dumpster fire. If he wanted it, he would have it. She was his and she didn't even know it, she didn't need to know it. The subject wasn't exactly up for debate. Conscience didn't really factor into his way of thinking tonight. The bad man probably wasn't even aware of the fact that he was so bad, rotten down to his apple core, sick all the way to the bone marrow.
He was actually fairly accomplished when it came to hide and seek, but Juliet had some tricks up her sleeve too, it seemed. Into the treeline, and the crunch of his boot heels on the ground came to a standstill while his stolen rose garden girl peeked from behind one tree then disappeared to beckon from another. She moved good in the dark, but he'd learned a few trickster moves of his own. The night and its inherent darkness were his playground, this was where he'd always feel most at home. When life ends up breathtakingly fucked, one can find a lot of hobbies in nightly things, all those secrets that were better preserved in the shadows.
She called out for her Romeo, but by the time she popped out from her next hiding spot, he was not standing where he had been. There was some moonlight like a gift that splintered its way through the tree branches overhead, but the light didn't provide very much evidence for which direction he'd gone. There didn't seem to be any footprints to track, or the ground was still too winter-cold to allow for much of an impression from the man's boots. All was quiet in the empty treeline where their game had began. There were echoes of the party up ahead, back in the direction of the path they'd walked and danced down… but they'd wandered quite a bit, Bo Peep and her lost little wolf sheep. He seemed to have abandoned her in a very un-Romeo fashion. Although, before she could decide to turn back to the lit path or the party, the bad man finally reappeared. This time, it was him who stepped out from behind a wide tree rooted directly behind her.
Leather and lechery, he caught her pink waist with strong hands. His palms were wide and his fingers long, curling like hooks on the handles of her hipbones. "Boo."