Board Thread:Non-TES Roleplaying/@comment-24685738-20160328225407/@comment-25038310-20160402034435

"Well? This what you wanted, ain't it?" Jon asked, opening the window of the small apartment room. Inside, Sander and another old man were present. They were on the 5th floor - Sander was pointing a gun at the man's head who sat on the couch in front of the tv and the small wooden table in front of it, which had two lines of coke on it. The man looked down hesitantly as he buried his hands in his palms, slowly sobbing.

Rhick-a-Dilly had gotten a blue eye from the small fight that had occured recently - old man tried to bring out his own firearm, but failed to pull the trigger when it was necessary. From there, Sander and Jon overwhelmed the man pretty easily.

"Well Rhick?" Sander said, leaning forward so that he was talking right in the man's ear. "Where're the guns? We had a deal, but I was pretty sure you were not as stupid to make the same mistake as last time and not uphold it."

Rhick said nothing, but looked up sadly at Lafayette, as he sobbed and snickered.

Sander leaned in abit closer, switching off the safety of the gun. He briefly stared the man in the eyes as he redirected the barrel of the firearm and pushed it lightly in Rhick's eye socket.

"Well? Were you?"

The man seemed to contemplate his decisions for a moment, before struggling to reveal the location of the goods he promised, with much regret, which was seen by his pitiful whining.

"They..- they're in the garage of Old Bertha ..-"

"No no no," Sander interrupted him once again, pushing the gun abit deeper in his eye socket, causing him to grunt in pain. "First, you take in the lines, like we promised." He claimed. "Then, you tell us where they are."

He briefly retracted the pistol, before grabbing the man's grey ponytail and forcefully pulling his head towards the table and slamming it into the wood, before pulling him up again. The lines were rather smothered across the furniture now, but that was no excuse.

The man mumbled to himself loudly, although in the heat of the moment it was hard to make out what exactly he was saying by the blood of his nose that slowly worked its way down towards his lips, making whatever he said an incomprehensible mutter-fest.

"P-..Please! I'm, I'm clean! I don't want to..-"

"You asked for it and we delivered. Now do it, you old fuck!" Sander yelled, slamming his table once again on the table, now holding his head so close to the lines that he could easily 'take them in'.

The man finally gave up, as he slowly inhaled through his nose, exhaling even more slowly as he felt the kick of the drugs kicking in, and his addiction for it respawned. After that, Sander did not even have to hold on to the man's ridiculous haircut anymore. His addiction did all the rest of the work - an old poison, once again applied.

"Come on," Sander told Jon, who had been absently staring through the window, not intent on seeing Sander exploiting Rhick's addiction like this, just for kicks. He could relate to the man, and he hoped that he wouldn't get in contact with those things again.

"Old Bertha's got a few things that'll need explaining." Jon muttered, looking down with pity at the man as he snobbed, while at the same time trying to grab whatever bit of coke he could, even going as far as trying to inhale it from the bits that had landed on the carpet.