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- Posted: Wed, 26 Dec 2012 09:59:17 +0000
$ counting Tiles on the floor $
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His face practically lit up like the beacon; his smile wide showing off his pearly whites as he heard the small bit of Russian from the other man. Pascal honestly didn't expect a reaction out of the other man. Let alone words in his OWN language. It was slightly relaxing, only distracting him for a moment from his situation. His smile faltered as he returned to Reality Dungeon from Comfort Land. "Finally! You can speak! I was beginning to think that you were a mute, and if you were mute I would feel bad for badgering you for a respo-"
He cut himself off as he watched the man suddenly stand form his spot. Pascal kept eye contact with the other as he messed with his sweater and then moved closer. Eye's widening at the sudden closeness, thinking 'Oh no here come the beatings'. But nothing came. The man just continued to stare, for a good minute. Pascal began to fidget under the stare. He had never been studied for this long before. No one had ever stared this long at him. Even Roland and his own parents hadn't graced him with long stares. Men at the bar would only look at him for fleeting moments, before moving in to flirt or buy him a drink. he wasn't sure whether he should find the other's stare comforting or creepy. Though assuming this man is part of the Ocello Family, he was going to go with creepy. Definite creeper here.
Then the man snatched his hat.
Pascal was never one to freak out or lose control over himself. It just wasn't his thing. When he was out on the job for Roland or his father, he had shot and killed men, and only ever once had he freaked out and cried. When he was interrogating their own prisoners, he had watched them beaten and broken beyond recognition and he all he had did was give them a smile before continuing. It wasn't like this. Pascal wore beanie's for multiple reasons, a small part of it was because he thought they looked good on him, and hid what he thought was ugly hair. Which was total bullshit. He looked great with or without a hat, or so he's been told. The more important reason was that he found comfort in his hats. Everyone in the Shaprio family knew that you didn't touch Pascal's hat. Roland had given his his first hat when he killed his first victim. Pascal had freaked out and Roland had been there for him. The next day Roland bought him a beanie, saying something about trying a new look. Pascal didn't know why he bought the hat, but it he figured he was apologizing for his fathers orders. Pascal was only 15 when he had shot his first victim.
From that day on he wore beanies. It reminded him of Roland. It was a comfort thing.
So if after being kidnapped, bashed over the head, and put in a, rather nice, dungeon-esque room hadn't worn him down, losing his hat was the last straw. When the man had popped it off his head, he caught his breath in his chest, his face instantly dropping. He completely ignored the insult, something about being stupid or dumb or whatever, and allowed himself to snap. He bit his lower lip hard, drawing blood. His face had contorted into something that resembled rage. He stayed motionless in his chair but kept his attention on the man, his eyes moving between the hat in his hands and the mans face. "Give. It. Back. Now." He hissed.
At that moment, the door opened causing Pascal to turn his attention to the three new people who had entered the room. He had to physically force himself to calm down. Releasing his lower lip from the death-grip his teethe had on it an breathed heavily. He gave the man with the long hair a wary smile, having lost most of his confidence with the loss of his hat. But he was not weak. He would persevere comfortless. Though he took a moment to look over the three men who had just walked and groaned inwardly. Of course they were all good-looking."Yestʹ vse moi pokhititeli dolzhny bytʹ nastolʹko bezumno privlekatelʹnym?" He sighed, looking to his feet for a moment before looking up as the man with the long hair stopped in front of him.
The man had spoken in sarcasm, giving him a smile. Pascal returned his smile, there was that word. Comfortable. Pascal almost snorted at the comment. "You know it. It's been great, you know, with the head pain, the scary dungeon-like rooms, the tied-up hands." He shifted his arms in a way that made him look as though he was struggling while getting comfortable at the same time. "I'm surprised I hadn't booked a stay earlier. A five star joint like this? Totally deserves the praise." He finished, obviously sarcastic. He gave the man in front of him a smirk. Holding his gaze for only a second before dropping it towards the mans torso, his smirk following. "Ya know he won't come for me. I mean, I'm useless anyways. Just getting in trouble and what not. He didn't even send a bodyguard out with me." He snorted into a small chuckle, knowing that these were big lies. But he made it look as though he was laughing sadly at his own situation. "He's not going to risk his life or job for a screw up brother." He at least hoped Roland wouldn't risk his life for Pascal. That shouldn't be how it worked. It really should be the other way around.
Ooc~ Translation "Do all my kidnappers have to be so insanely attractive?"
Location~ Kidnappers Room.
Feeling/Status~ Irritation, Anger. Missing his hat.