Bandages and Salt (PJO X BSD AU)

Chapter fifty-three

The pair whispered hurriedly to one another as I sat, now bored, in my chair before slumping down and resting my head on the back of it. The cops were just far enough away that I could hear the rise of fall of their harsh voices, but not even hope to make out any of the words that were spoken by either.

Really if the pair of them were going to fight like this they could at least be decent hosts and do it where I can watch the show.

"-go! Let's go!" The only other person with a shred of sense in this room instistead as he seemed to be dragging his partner away if the forced shuffling of feet behind me was anything to go by.

"But the painting-!" But the other man was cut off by his partner with what sounded like a hand being thrown across his mouth if the harsh slap of skin and muffled noises were anything to go by.

"Hey! It's rude to leave your guest alone," I chided as the door opened and slammed shut, locking up firmly behind the pair as they foolishly believed that a simple lock and a pair of cuffs would be enough to keep me here.

Maybe when I was twelve... well, maybe not then either.

I sighed, "Idiots." My wrists rolled smoothly beneath the cuffs as the metal fell apart with a quiet snap that filled the empty room as the metal clattered to the floor.

My back twinged painfully as I removed myself from the chair, but it was nothing compared to bullet or stab wounds, or even that of any of the doctor's tests. Really the former cops's idea of torture was nothing shy of inadequate if a fifteen year old child could do better.

Swooping down to grab the hand cuffs, I strolled across the room and noted that we were somewhere underground, though probably not all that far from the Postman's home. Definitely still within the borders of Yokohama.

The lock on the door gave easily to the push and pull of the lock picks as the cops' hurried footsteps faded down the hallway. Slipping the picks back into their place beneath my bandages, I walked silently out of the now abandoned room and leisurely moved through the halls until I found another room a good distance away that was about the same size as my own had been.

A quick peek through the door's window revealed a lone figure at the heart of the small room, his hands cuffed in front of himself as my own had been, blood seeping down the older man's back. I knew in that instance that if the other man didn't - more likely, wouldn't - kill the men that took us, then I most definitely would.

The lock on this door gave way just as easily as the one before had as I slipped almost unnoticed into the room, though the point was almost mute as I made no move to hide my steps as I drew closer to the other, sliding the cuffs back into place on my wrist so that it would look like I'd never left them at all.

"Hey, it's been a while," I greeted as I stopped in front of the other, a smile shaping my face in a peculiar way as I felt myself attempt to be almost comforting to the man that had taken me in for the past week or so.

I watched as the postman studied me, his whiskey tracing carefully over the expression on my face. If he had been Chuuya, a properly determined one anyways, he might have been able to see through a bit of the mask that I'd plastered finely on. But he wasn't, so all that the other saw was a child without any more pain than he reasonably thought should be there. And even though that was the way that I wanted it, even though neither of the strikes broke skin, maybe a part of me was disappointed by the other's reaction.

Even if only a little.

"You were not tortured?" The postman asked, coming to the conclusion that I looked just the same as I had a few hours before.