Elegy in Red

Nine

Keep it together, Ari. Don’t let it overwhelm you.

“Do ya want me to teach ‘im not ta talk back?” Barlow muttered from his place a few steps behind his cousin, his bulky arms visibly flexing at the thought of what he could do with Ari’s bones. A brief shadow of temptation passed over Gus’ features at the offer but reason won over the drive for immediate revenge and he shook his head, never once tearing his eyes away from the boy in front of him.

“How about we try somethin’ a lil different?” Gustav offered instead, to which Ari cracked his split mouth in an exaggeratedly cheerful smile.

“Sure. What did you have in mind?” he chirped and, feeling the minor bleeding on his lip start again, he inadvertently licked at the cut, noting with satisfaction that this alone made Gustav’s nostrils flare with annoyance. Still looking for fear, aren’t we? Can’t deal with the fact that you’re finding none.

I don’t make sense, and that’s not something a fool like you can handle.

The way Gustav adjusted the bar, rewrapped his fingers around the long, cool body of metal, made him look at once unconvincing and rashly ready to lunge – it made him look weak; an animal that was unable to properly stand its ground. This was exactly what Ari had been hoping for. All he’d have to do was dally a little more with this man’s patience, with all those layers of hatred and frustration that overshadowed the goon’s ability to rationalize, and all the nice smooth edges of Gus’ ridiculous plan were going to come apart.

“Ya kno’ it’s a win-win fo’ me, either way,” Gustav said slowly, the sheen of sweat on his forehead even more noticeable now that the sun was setting and the last rosy rays shone over his moist scalp under a particularly revealing angle. “I can pummel ya right now and walk out of this content and happy. But I’m not an unreasonable person and I want ta give ya a chance. If ya offer me somethin’ on Jin Straive, somethin’ I can sell out there for good money, then I might not mess up that pretty face,” Gus let the bar move up to push under Ari’s chin, and a gleam of sheer satisfaction flashed in his dark eyes at what he thought or hoped was finally having things work out his way. He wiped his damp brow with his thumb and tilted his head to the side, adding with unnecessary pretension, “Might not mess it up too much anyway.”

What an absolute idiot.

Ari snorted before he could think better of it, cutting across his attacker’s moment of glory like a piglet that had just burst free at a wedding. Gus’ left eye twitched and the smirk he had so diligently catered for died, replaced by an expression of unmitigated frustration that only made Ari want to continue getting on the other’s nerves.

“Is that the best you could come up with?” the boy questioned with a mixture of condescension and scorn in his voice. “Please. I certainly gave you more credit than you deserved.” The iron bar immediately jabbed further into his throat, but the man holding it seemed unable to utter a sound, his mouth wriggling unnecessary with words and insults that could not quite make it to the surface. From the looks of it, Ari’s lack of fear was not just puzzling – it seemed to be injuring Gus’ already bruised dignity.

“Careful, brat,” Gustav rasped at last – anger had deformed his voice like a sickness. “’m tryin’ ta be generous ‘ere. If yer simple mutt brain can’t figure out what’s best fo’ ya, that ain’t gonna stop me from bashin’ yer head in the wall.”

“We shouldn’ have let the girl go, Gus,” Barlow spoke gruffly as he nodded in the direction in which Francesca had disappeared not too long ago. “He wouldn’t have been that cocky with her around.”