Octavius

xvii

PAPI OCTAVIUS

        I despised the smell of blood. It was quite ironic; for someone who spent most of their time—lifetime around the metallic, deteriorating smell of blood, I was starting to build a tolerance to it. Why? I didn't know. All I knew was the fact that I hated the petrifying smell of blood, it didn't mean I couldn't stand the sight. Oh, I could stand more than the sight of blood. My eyes flickered towards the phone in my hand, my firm gaze running over the words Finley had last texted me.

f: psssssssttttt babycakes... do you want some brownies?

My eyebrows arched in amusement, and just as I was about to respond to it, an harsh, insufficient cough halted my motion and instantly captured my attention. For fucks sake. My demanding gaze found a pair of dull, blue eyes—eyes sharp like those of Mount Everest. Eyes that locked on mine, wide-eyed gaze and shrewd, his nostrils flared with shock. Shock—pure shock flashed across his features at whatever he saw on my face, and he stumbled back a step. Actually stumbled. I let out an irritated sigh before returning back to what I had been occupied to.

Finley.

O: What are you up to?

Topolina: if.. if I give you a hundred Finley hugs and brownies, can I pweaseeeee drive ;)

O: And kisses? You've got yourself a deal.

"Excuse me," His deep, familiar voice spoke with the slightest irritability. "Why the fuck am I here? You do know that I can sue your ass—you and everyone who was involved in my kidnapping."

As I was about to respond to his very very threatening words, my phone dinged notifying me of Finley's important text. He can wait.

t: umm.... ummmm..... ummm.... can I drive the fast, black car?

A loud thrash in front of me held my gaze captive, my lips pursed thoughtfully as I finally regarded the man seated in front of me. "Why the hell am I here? Answer me. I demand answers!"

"Payson," I whispered lowly yet harshly, unbuttoning the first set of buttons on my well-ironed shirt, placing my elbow against the chair as I watched him. A thin paper cigarette hung from my lips as I lit fire into it, taking a long drag of smoke every minute or so; the thick white smoke shifted, swirling as they danced their way into the ceiling.  Finley would be disappointed.

I was very well capable of controlling my temper, I had been taught about the art of control from a young age yet the simple thought of a five-feet inept could disarm the inner bomb inside of me. "You don't demand anything. Do you understand?"

"You don't scare me," He taunted, sharp blue eyes that stared deep into mine with the idiotically confidence of a teenager. How fun.

I let out a irritated sigh, and crossed my legs. "I don't need to scare you. That's not my goal. I'm here to talk to you so... let's talk, yes?"

        Payson let out a short, humorless laugh, his shoulders rumbling from the action as my firm gaze fixated on the terrorized expression on his face—an expression he managed to cover with the wittiest confidence he could muster. "You want to talk about Finle-"