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Thorn was nervous today. A little bit, because while he was used to playing the role of the pretender, the philanthropist, this group was a hardy bunch. To say that such an optimistic organization could be run by a council of the one gaia's more cynical people should have been a contradiction. But it wasn't. So he was trying his hardest today, gleaming, shining with charm and dignity. He seemed like the perfect gentleman, the perfect candidate for such a spirited role. For Thorn was here to wrest control of the cancer foundation that could expand his own empire. What better way to distribute drugs, but other a charity organization? The suckers wouldn't know what had hit them So he was nervous, and it showed, slightly. The smile that was slightly too charming, the resteraunt that was too chic. But Thorn wanted everything to go well. For if it did... he could earn millions. Billions. And anyone who knows Thorn knows he's motivated by one thing in life. Himself. "Well, gentlemen." he said, flashing a smile and acknowleding the sole lady. There were four of them, five, including himself. And as the dessert course rolled around, he nodded. "It was a pleasure meeting with you." he had spoken, and they had spoken of the project, the aims, the goals-- and it was truly a lovely thing. So full of potential, of light. Of help, and the saving of lives. For now, at least. Just then, a man came with a discreet cough, calling Thorn away from the group. A phonecall, he said. An important one. So Thorn smiled, nodding his head. "Please excuse me." he said, smiling. And got up.
Surely, nothing could happen in the next five minutes. And besides, maybe this would give them a chance to talk about him.

It had been yet another few days since his last encounter with Thorn, and Hadrian had decided to get out of the compound for a bit. And so he had decided to go to a restaurant for lunch - but not alone, of course. He brought Ismet. Though really - the child was suspicious enough already. Bruises on his wrists that remarkably resembled the grip of a hand, working non-stop, and then randomly taking the boy out to lunch. Who /wouldn't/ be suspicious? But Hadrian had managed to evade answering any of those questions up until their food had arrived. It was a while into eating when he finally noticed what group was beside them. And it was with a disturbed feeling, that he realized who they were - and that they were with /Thorn/. It didn't take long of eavedropping to realize what was going on. So as Thorn went off to make a phone call, Hadrian turned around in his seat to speak to the people. Their own check had just arrived, but he hadn't paid it yet. "...you'll want to be careful with that one. He's not all that he is on the surface."

The woman turned. She had been secretly admiring the boy, wondering where he was from. He was so beautiful- her husband was a painter, so she usually noticed unusual subjects. Sometimes they were models, and she could convince them to sit for a portrait for her husband. "I beg your pardon?" her voice was soft, polite as she watched the man. "Thorn? Do you know him?"
The man who had been next to her turned too, curious. Because what kind of human would willingly interrupt another's conversation? Besides, couldn't he tell this was about business? "No one is" he said heartily. He was older, larger, and he laughed. "But he does have rather perfect qualitfications."

""Yes, and I wish I didn't." Oh, he knew Thorn alright. And even though Ismet was giving him a look that suggested he was insane, he continued speaking; he needed to warn these people. If they were seeing Thorn as a potential person to join them for a /charity/ - he couldn't let that happen. "You should be wary of those 'perfect' qualifications. Take a closer look at his activities, how he gets his money, and you might see that he isn't exactly the sort of person that should be allowed access to a charity. If he's interested in your organization, it isn't a good thing." And while he didn't know what Thorn had planned, he knew that it couldn't be good. Thorn wasn't the sort of person to join a charity out of the goodness of his heart.

It was the large man who frowned. "Son." he said, taking a condescending note. "We've done a thorough background check. We understand he deals with pharmeceuticals, and it's not such a bad thing although he does deal in some drugs that are not government approved." The woman nodded, laughing. "He is rich, and very influential, and he does have very good ideas to head our project with." she shared a look of bemusement. "He seems like a very nice man, no matter what his business qualifications." They were under estimating him, then. “And how do you know him?” another man interupted, albeight a bit rudely.

"He's the boss of someone I know." Rubbing his forehead tiredly, he spoke again. Why did these people have to be so difficult? Why couldn't they just take his word for it? Probably because they were intelligent, but still. "Thorn's 'pharmaceutical's...maybe they look clean on the cover, but they're not exactly what I'd call 'legal' once you take a deeper look." He thought? It was either drugs or weapons, he didn't know for sure. But he was taking a leap there, and basing it off of what the company actually was; if he was claiming legal medicine, he bet it was drugs. Which meant that Marc...was no better then a drug dealer. He wasn't sure if he was more content with that or the idea of weapons smuggling. "A lot of people have been hurt badly by this man. At least take the time to think about this, and what I've said, before you decide." The waiter had already come by, and Ismet had paid - Hadrian's wallet was sitting on the table, so he figured he may as well. Then the man and boy stood up, clearly intending to leave then.

The woman paused, tilting her head. It was on the tip of her tongue to say something, anything, but she hesitated. “Who are you?” she asked, uncertainly. Because the large man was speaking to the other two with a note of graveness. Maybe, although this was a stranger, Thorn did have to be checked out in more detail It was different, what you found out from a person you presumed to be innocent and a person you presumed to be guilty. “Thank you for this... advice.” the fat man said, nodding his head with a slight gleam in to his eyes. He had noticed the child too this time. “I hope your warnings will be for naught, but...” he trailed off

It was late evening, but Hadrian had already headed home. In fact, he felt suitably tired that he thought he could sleep at a decent time - perhaps it was the feeling of actually having /done/ something? Those people....he just hoped they had listened. But he had done all he could, so he felt almost proud. Because of once, his knowledge of Thorn may have helped someone. It had taken a while to get rid of Ismet - the boy kept demanding to know who Thorn was, how he knew him...and eventually he had shared a bit. At least it had been enough to get the boy to go 'home' - Dacians, this evening. As comfortable as Hadrian felt, it never occurred to him that he could have a visiter that night. Never occurred to him, to lock the door.

It was late. Later, but didn’t deter the other man. Quiet fury had been building slowly, but it was worse than the type of rage that could snap like a whip. Because it burned longer, harder, hotter, and when Thorn slammed open the door, the sound only seemed to emphasize what the man was feeling. Since really, what else could he be felling but pure, unadultered fury? "Hadrian." He didn't check to see if anyone else was in the room. If the room was empty. It wasn an apartment, and he didn't bother to flick on the lights either. It had been sufficiently dark enough outside and it took only a few seconds for his eyes to adjust- adjust enough, that whatever furniture lay in the room he could see. "You've been talking to people about me." Such simple, calm words. Because his voice was calm. If quiet, was considered calm. It didn't shake either, but there was strength behind it, the barest suppression of a snarl as if he was more animal than man.

Hadrian spun around as the door slammed open and then shut, his heart pounding as it did so. And as he saw Thorn, heard those words - he felt fear rise within himself. What had he thought, that Thorn would simply go on his merry way if those people took his advice? This was /Thorn/. And that just made him even more nervous. But...at least this was a sign that they had taken his advice, hadn't trusted the other man. "I merely kept them from making a mistake." Why wasn't he running? This was not safe, not good. "And get out of my home, Thorn." His voice remained steady, calm - even if he was utterly terrified on the inside. His hands were tensing, preparing to use more force to get the man out - and this time, he was going to remember to /lock/ the damned door.

Thorn didn't wait to respond. He didn't wait to laugh, to threaten the mage, to promise him that he would pay for it. No, he moved, swift quickly, towards the direction of the sound and struck out with his left hand in the form of a fist- he was right handed, and this, the fact that he was using the hand that he didn't need to use, showed just what his plans were. He moved for a hit, throwing his body weight into it in a curve. And it was only when he had followed through with the action, that he snarled. “Do not play games with me, Hadrian.”

Hadrian didn't have any time to react, any time to gesture, before the hit connected. All of Thorn's body weight thrown into it - well, it was no surprise that the mage went stumbling backwards, and crashed into the wall. The shock of the punch, the pain, was enough that thoughts of magic flew out the window as he reached up to tremblingly wipe at his lip. Which was now a bloody lip. This Thorn...this Thorn was different then normal, more violent. And even though he found himself even more frightened of this Thorn, he spoke, his mouth not listening to his brain when it was told to shut up. "Stop playing games with /me/, and maybe you won't get those tables turned so often." While he voice was steady, though angered, inwardly he was panicking. What was he /doing/? Why was he baiting Thorn?

Thorn snarled then. He was logical- enough. He knew better than to hurt him too hard, to cripple him. But that was as far as his logic went. Throwing another punch this time in order to slam the mage into the wall, to hold him by the collar and throw him against the unweiling barrier. It seemed ironic that a wall he had been forced again was now suffering the same effects with a different man. With more impact. Holding him, there was no thought of sex. No thought of amusement that this man was fighting back, no thought that this was what they had come down to. He reacted, and at the words, the insolent, cocky words, he threw another punch at his face. Closer, now. So close to each other, aiming for the cheek. He had once had his cheek shattered before. Thorn didn't think he was capable of that much damage, but he knew it hurt like a son of a b***h. “Don’t be so stupid.”

Thrown and held against the wall, thoughts of anything except getting away went out of his mind. He was panicking; Thorn had never hurt him before, not actually /fought/ like this - he didn't know how to get the man to stop. So he he didn't think, just acted. The second punch connected, and the pain that blossomed in his face - from his lip, his cheek - spurred him into action rather then just letting the other man beat on him. And still, even though his hands were free, magic was not what occurred to him; no, in a fight like this, it was instinct to resort to more natural tactics. Directing a punch towards the other mans midsection, Hadrian began his struggling - kicking, clawing, hitting - with as much force as he could. How much of it connected, well, who knew?
He didn't speak. What would the point be, except to anger the other man even more?

Thorn managed to avoid some. The ones that were directed at his face, he leaned away, ducking, moving from side to side. But the fact that he was using his weight to pin the man meant that he did end up with bruises. With scratches, and he knew that tomorrow, he would probably have some explaining to do. But he wouldn’t be the only one. He held on, he went through the pain long enough to shift his grasp on the mage and throw him on the floor. It was no easy business to have a man fight him, but it was a trick, shifting your weight and putting everything you had into the pivot of your feet until the object had no choice but to be thrown. Thorn had enough sense to make sure that he didn’t aim towards the tables, the couch. To have the head hit somewhere crucial would mean the end of the games, and he was far from finished. He didn’t order the man to stop fighting either. He threw, giving everything he had and cursing at the pain that seemed to increase threefold in his face. The man could fight- he wasn’t experienced, but at so close an encounter, who needed to know how to fight to manage to hurt someone? As he threw Hadrian down, he knelt on him immediatly, straddling his chest and forming his hands into a ‘V’, aimed towards the throat in a choking grip.

Any sense that Hadrian was suceeding in any way disappeared as he was shifted and thrown to the ground. For a moment he was stunned - and that moment was when Thorn was on him, hands at his throat. Instantly, the hits from his side stopped - because his hands were on Thorn's wrists, trying his best to remove them. Panic was blossoming, even more so then the fear - because even with as angry as the other man was, he hadn't thought it would go this far - hadn't thought it would get to the point where he could get killed. And hands on his throat... Well, they were both going to have a lot of explaining to do, later. Hadrian had /already/ had to do some fast talking to explain the bruises on his wrists - but this. This was obviously a fight. But he wasn't thinking of explanations right now, no; he was too busy struggling with those hands.

Thorn was panting. His breathing came in short, harsh noises as he held him down, waiting for just a second, waiting for the moment when the hands beating at his own would grow frantic enough to let him know the situation was desperate. Until then, he was going to hand on. When he knew the man’s strength was falling, when he felt satisfied with the damage he had caused- then, and only then would he remove the hands he had around the man’s neck. Because otherwise he would just want to hit him more. Otherwise, he would be unsatisfied.

It didn't take long for Hadrian to grow more frantic. He couldn't breath, he could feel himself becoming fuzzier. It was /painful/, not being able to breath - and that pain just caused him even more panic. His hands struggling with Thorn's, his thrashing - it was all becoming more frantic. Yet at the same time, it was also becomming weaker, with less force behind his actions. The mage's eyes were glued onto Thorn's, as if pleading silently for the man to stop - and the fear in them was all to clear. Fear, pain, and lack of oxygen.

Thorn had grown calmer, then. His breathing had returned to normal and sanity returned to his as he watched. It was easy enough, watching, and when the hands grew frantic, he lessened to weight. But he kept his hands there, a loose shackle that could barely be called a grip. More like a resting place. “Don’t, ever do that again.” he said quietly. “Don’t interfere in my business. Don’t go around telling people about me, about what I do. Business and personal.” he smiled, but it wasn’t a nice smile at all. A left over from what had happened before, and it was nasty. “Don’t spread your little tales Hadrian, or go to your friends for support. I don’t want to be threatened by my colleagues or see fear and defense in the eyes of the other guardians. Don’t mess with me.” his eyes spoke, his tone of voice spoke, and his drummed a little pattern onto the throat. “Because next time, it’s going to be worse. And I’m not going to leave any bruises either. Remember that.”

Air - It was with a sense of desperate ness that he gulped in the air, fighting back coughs that tried to escape - and a few of them succeeded. But he didn't pull away, or remove his hands from Thorn's - because they were still there, on his throat. Just not clenching. And as the man spoke, Hadrian was shaking. From the lack of air, from fear, from pain - he didn't know from what. He just knew that at this moment, he was more terrified of Thorn then he had ever been of anyone. But he didn't speak in response to the words. Just gave a trembling nod, feeling as it the words would get caught in his throat if he tried to speak. Because they likely would - or at the very least, it would be painful to speak. Strangling tended to make you not want to talk for a bit, after all; and even then, the voice would be hoarse and painful. But even without words, his eyes communicated that he would do what the man said, in this instance. Thorn had completely terrified him, made him think that he was going to die - and to avoid that again, to avoid something worse, he would do as the man asked.

Thorn saw the eyes, the glint that was almost familiar. He had seen them in enough eyes to count, but not enough for him to find it the norm. So he nodded, getting up and moving away to the kitchen. He turned on the lights then, a flicker that hurt his eyes too much because of the suddenness. Was he too arrogant to turn his back on the mage? Probably. But he did so anyways, getting himself a drink, a glass, a tequila bottle he had seen hiding in a low corner. And with them both, he poured himself a big, stiff drink. “They’ve found out about my past, refused to do business. I’ve had to threaten them to keep it quiet. I do not LIKE, to threaten people.” and there was some truth in his words, because his eyes showed it. Before, he had started off so gentle and sly, and then smooth, sexual.
It had moved to light violence, but this? This was completely different. And Thorn knew they couldn’t go back now. Where had the other Thorn gone? “You’ve succeeded with that. But it will be your last success.” his words were quiet, serious as he finished his drink.

Perhaps it was arrogant of Thorn, but it was also showing that he was a good judge of people. Because right now, the last thing Hadrian would do was attack Thorn - either physically or with magic. He slowly stood up, knowing his hands were still shaking, and rubbed his throat. It was tender, painful. Probably bruised. As he listened to Thorn, he could feel his stomach churning. Could feel pain that wasn't just physical, though he had a lot of that as well. Was it worth it? Telling them, getting them to refuse access to that charity to Thorn. And even though he was in pain, and even though Thorn had changed into someone utterly terrifying - he felt that it was worth it. Who knew how many people would have been effected by that charity, by Thorn as a leader of it? He was only /one/
person. His gaze landed on Thorn, but he didn't follow into the kitchen; no, he wasn't going near Thorn if he could help it. And he didn't speak, but those words of his - well, dread an emotion he had a feeling he was growing used to.

Thorn finished his drink and placed the glass on the counter. His eyes were steadfastedly on the man as he continued to watch him. He was silent. So silent, and he didn’t know how the man would behave. Would he see himself as a martyr, paying in pain for saving lifes? Or would he be smart about it, and keep his mouth shut? Either was a delightful possiblity. The first, he could carry out his threats. The second, the possibility of the threat would always hang over them. Yes. Delightful. Pausing as he fingered the drink, he put it away, throwing the glass in the bin as if it was nothing more than cheap plastic. He heard it break, but it didn’t bother him. It was just one small damage compared to the rest. “I’ll pay for the glass.” he said quietly, turning to watch the man and heading towards him as he headed towards the door.

Hadrian stepped aside as Thorn came towards the door, making certain to keep distance between them - as if afraid of being too close.Which he was, truly. It was an irrational fear, that the other man would decide to continue what had just been finished, with no provocation - but he couldn't help it. Whatever happened in the future, this was always going to hang over his head in his interactions with Thorn. He was always going to be afraid of him, though he could get past that fear if neccessary. He didn't know which one he would be. If it came to similar circumstances as it had been earlier - with people like that, a chance that Thorn could ruin so many people's lives - he would probably interfere. The only difference now, would be that he would try to do it more quietly; keep from letting anyone know his name, try to keep it from getting back to Thorn that it had been /him/. But at the same time - who knew if he would have the courage to do so, with that fear clouding his actions.