[ they're meeting in a shitty dive bar, because evan doesn't want to be seen in any of his regular places tonight. he doesn't want to be seen meeting david king, of all fucking people, unless it's to beat his face into the ground and watch him crawl away like a dying dog.
it's not his choice to be here. play nice, his father said. you don't have to like it. you don't have to want to do it. but you're going to put up with him or i'll beat the idea into your fucking skull.
and because he'd been brought up properly he said yes, sir and went to do what he was told, even if it's one of the worst things he's ever had to do. or at least the most morally repugnant, in his point of view. putting up with david king, heir to the enemy. a loud, drunk, hedonistic, flashy showman who's only still where he is because he can throw a better punch than most people, and take a hit better than evan ever expected. it's like expecting him to saw his own leg off and be glad for it.
but it's necessary, because there's always people encroaching on their territory, and archie macmillan knows that allying with some new vicious dog to try and take down an old enemy will end with the dog's jaws around his throat, while letting it ally with that same old enemy will end the same way, only sooner. so instead he's making a deal with the kings to drive this third party out. keeping the status quo at the cost of his son's frustration and embarrassment.
in an unobtrusive booth not quite in the furthest corner but not right up front, either, evan waits, drink in hand. he doesn't have to worry about king sneaking up on him or getting around his watch; he has nothing to do but keep an eye on the door, and in any case, david king has never gone through a door without everyone nearby noticing, the fucking prick. it'll make the meeting that much more of a pain in the ass, but at least this is technically neutral territory. friendly to both, rather than one or the other.
and this is going to be such a pain in the ass to start with. ]
[ david isn't a fan of the macmillans. he doesn't like how they operate, doesn't like how they treat their people, can't even stand the way the old man and his son look at people. the only way he wants to see either of them is on the floor with their blood on his fists, but his father had other ideas apparently. and maybe one could concede it's a better choice to ally with a known enemy and maintain the balance than any other option available to them, and even if they couldn't, his father had made a very compelling point in reminding david how sorry he'd be if he doesn't put his ego aside to work with evan fucking macmillin and his sour, judgemental face. ]
[ he turns up at the agreed upon time, and despite his flashy rep he's in practical clothes; a hoodie and trackies, durable instead of the designer shit he'd wear to the gym. surprised they didn't try to make some show of power by having them meet somewhere in the macmillan's pockets, not that it matters, he walks into every place like he owns it and this is no different. easy confidence as he looks around, gives evan a nod of acknowledgement when he spots him, and stops at the bar first. ]
[ they serve all of one beer that doesn't taste like watery piss, so david buys two — see, he's being nice — and brings them to evan's little booth. demeanour casual and laid back as he sets them down and then takes the seat opposite, as if he wouldn't rather gouge his own eyes out than be here. ]
How're we doin' this then?
[ no attempt at small talk, false friendliness. neither of them has the patience, he's pretty sure. pointedly ignoring the glances cast their way from people who know who one or both of them are, probably trying to figure out what's going on. ]
[ the lack of glitz and glamour surprises evan, just a little, but maybe david doesn't want to be seen with him, either. too bad his attitude is pouring out all over the place, that constant, non-stop aura around him that suggests he's completely at home everywhere, like he owns everything. it makes evan's fingers curl into his palms just watching him.
buying the drink is just another slight. wasting money on an enemy to show how nice and cordial he can be. at the same time, wasting evan's time by making him wait until david's good and ready. by the time david does sit down, evan's approaching his boiling point, and it takes some serious effort to put a lid on that.
everything about him is infuriating. it takes evan a long second to get a grip enough to talk. ]
Me and you get their inside contact, get what he knows, and then get everything else he knows. [ because a traitor to one is a traitor to all. you can't trust someone like that. ] Then what his friends know. Recon's already on the way. After that, we get to be -
[ he pauses, teeth grit. because this part was where he almost broke one of the cardinal rules in his life and world and told his father hell no, because it's bad enough to do on his own, much less with david fucking king. ]
A fucking diversion. Keep their goddamn attention while someone else starts the dirty work.
[ he doesn't touch the drink. even if he saw it poured, he still doesn't trust it. ]
[ it's about what he was told, but david was kind of hoping macmillan didn't trust his kid with that stuff — certainly nothing david's heard or seen of evan suggests he's smart enough to get his hands on any information, just to beat a guy to death and send a message — but it is what it is. at least if the big bastard doesn't fumble the bag, because he can't come home with nothing and tell his parents somebody else fucked it up. not ever, and especially not with something like this. ]
[ david takes a deep pull of his beer while he listens to evan, eyebrows pinching and nose wrinkling in distaste at being a distraction. another thing he'd hoped maybe macmillan had differing opinions on, because how many people has he handled? how many fuckers has he tracked across the damn country and either dealt with or dragged their asses back? and now suddenly all he's good enough for is a distraction? like some common underling. ]
[ but what's he gonna do, say no? yeah, sure. the best case scenario there is he ends up cut off yet still under his father's thumb, but that seems unlikely. and he'd be leaving them vulnerable on two fronts. ]
[ fucking grunt work it is. ]
Easy peasy then.
[ another deep drink. he's noticed evan isn't drinking his, which is pretty rude. ]
Be real fuckin' stupid of me to try and poison you, don't you think?
[ he knows people think he's an idiot, all flash and no substance, and it's intentional to a degree, but give him a little credit. ]
[ david looks about as pleased with the situation as him - that is, not at all. evan understand why this is their job. he gets it. he gets why he and david, known entities, known as the sons of their fathers, have to be out in the open, drawing attention. they can't hide or go undercover; people know who they are on sight. and he understands why they have to ally to do it. he can even, very slightly, grasp why they have to work together.
but it rankles him regardless. it's made worse by the way he has to watch david drink his beer. by the way david doesn't argue or insult him but points out the drink. as if somehow this is just going to be another day, another few weeks or months just doing simple, easy work.
like this barely fazes him, when evan can see that it clearly does. ]
Yeah. It would.
[ he's not drinking anything an enemy buys him. poison or not, he doesn't need their generosity. it's leverage. never depend on anybody else, he was always told, and never give anybody one up on you in even the tiniest way. ]
Next meeting with their contact is in two days. 'Til then, we stay down. Catch 'em off guard when it's us showing up instead of the usual people.
[ what is he doing? why is he doing this? the text sends before he can change his mind, and now his options are to follow up with an instant 'wrong number', or to try and own this. ]
[ david stares at the text for a little while, confused, assuming evan sent it to the wrong person. but after a few minutes there's no follow-up, so either it's for him or he hasn't realised. ]
[ he hesitates again. confused, again. why is evan asking him for a drink? anybody else, david would make a joke about them asking him out, but after their last drink-- well. part of him wants to ask if this is a trap or something, but he doesn't. without thinking he just says: ]
[ fundraisers are, and have been for a long time, one of the best places for a criminal enterprise to make itself untouchable to the people who matter. that's what david's father taught him, though perhaps not in those words. it's networking, bribery, and laundering all in one. sometimes it's also an excuse to shove david out like a performing monkey; say for instance if the fundraiser was, on paper, some bullshit to do with education incentives in the city and david happened to have been an academically gifted child who benefited from the best education money could buy. ]
[ long story short, he's getting sick of being pulled into conversations about how important a good education is. having to moderate himself around the open bar isn't improving his mood any either. ]
[ somebody who paid attention to that kind of thing, (so literally nobody, including david himself,) might be able to tell david's on relatively good terms with his father at the moment, based on the fact his clothes aren't flashy or obnoxious — a way to say "fuck you" to his old man without actually stepping out of line. tonight he's opted for a dark grey 3-piece suit, clasically tailored and carefully thought out, right down to the black shirt and silver stud in his ear. very handsome, very charming. very tired. ]
[ he manages eventually to excuse himself "for some air," meaning a cigarette and ten minutes to himself. or that was the hope, but instead it seems like mild panic might be in order instead. intellectually he knew the macmillans would have a hand in this pot too, but seeing evan after successfully avoiding him for the last month or two just drags a bunch to the surface that took much too long to push down in the first place. the time it took to stop associating the smell of gin with him, to not remember the taste of him any time he was around vodka. he wants to march over and punch evan in the face just for having the audacity to exist and make him think about all that shit after spending weeks pushing it out of his head, but he can't. not here. ]
[ if he goes back inside now he'll look like a coward, but talking to evan feels like just about the worst idea in the world. maybe if he just lights up they can mutually ignore eachother? that feels like the right choice, up until his lighter doesn't do its job, sparking uselessly as if to mock him. david sighs heavily, speaking in a tone of heavy resignation without actually looking evan's way. ]
[ he goes to these events because he has to. it's a requirement. he's long since stopped questioning it. where archie macmillan goes, his son goes, and it's only partly for appearances at this point.
in truth, he doesn't hate these events as much as he probably should. no, he doesn't like the rich fucks condescending to him in ways just polite enough to avoid getting a beatdown later on. no, he doesn't like being paraded out as the next generation of philanthropic bullshit, which even his father laughs about. and no, he doesn't like the fact that this sort of thing in particular feels like it's being rubbed in his face. he was never a great student, except in some particular ways that he never really brought up to anyone.
but even when he was a kid he was always drawn to the way people looked at these events. finery, for lack of a better word, always had his attention. the women in their long backless dresses with glittering jewelry. and the men, too, the way suits were so perfectly tailored, the way they hid every flaw, made everyone in one look so ... particular.
it's a way he knows he doesn't look. he's managed to extract himself to a balcony to get away from the crowds for as long as he can manage. his suit is expensive and tailored and it still looks like it was made for someone just a little smaller than him. too tight at the shoulders, too awkward on him. or maybe he just doesn't fit a suit. he's not a man at home in these kinds of things, even if he wants to see them on other people - and not that he's going to ever admit to that.
of course, the other reason he's out here is because he saw the king patriarch, and heard people mentioning his son. god fucking forbid he go the rest of his life without seeing david fucking king. he doesn't want to see him. not now. not after those few months where half his dreams ended with him waking up rock hard because of that one drunk moment.
when david shows up, because of course he does, evan gets a glance at him. it goes on a lot longer than a glance should. a lot longer, because suits fit david, or at least this one does. where he might be able to make fun of him for wearing flashy garbage normally, this - isn't the same thing.
the question takes a while to make it through his head, but when it does, for once his brain manages to function properly in the face of ... well, that. ]
You got a smoke?
[ make it a trade. pretend nobody's doing anybody a favor here. ]
[ david is well attuned to the sensation of eyes on him, he can feel the way evan's gaze lingers, but he reasons it's because this is an unusal sight to him. david in something classic and subtle instead of the loud fits he usually favours. if there's any other possible reason evan could have to stare, david doesn't let himself land on that conclusion. ]
[ in turn he pretends not to notice the way evan just looks kind of awkward when he looks his way, something weird in his shoulders, or just the way he's holding himself. he doesn't look bad exactly, just, well, awkward. not that that's something david would consider. they had a couple of stupid, drunk encounters and now that's in the past. he's over it. ]
[ at the question, he nods. a trade is good, makes him feel less annoyed about the whole thing. he fishes a pack of cigarettes out of his inside pocket and steps closer so he can offer it out for evan to take one. totally normal and casual. ]
[ evan's suit is black, with a white shirt. simple. formal. its only concession to the fact that he's more important than than the rest of the attendees - or should be, anyway - is the edges of cold at the cuffs and lapel. not even just the cufflinks and buttons, but actual gold thread sewn across the edges, meant to draw the eye without drawing attention. it'd look better on someone else, he thought as he put it on.
like david, except that his suit is already basically ideal.
he finds his lighter - with its own pack of cigarettes, but he's not about to show those off now - and takes a cigarette from david's pack. lights up quickly enough and then offers it over in a way that means their hands never have to touch. it's an old-school lighter, heavy and metal, with a little decorative engraving on the sides. clearly well-used and well-maintained.
he waits until the lighter comes back to him before considering whether speaking is a good idea. maybe if he just keeps on the topic of tonight instead of literally anything else, it won't be so bad. ]
[ he gets the burner phone, despite all his misgivings, guilt, and crippling dread, and gets david the number, and then deletes all evidence that he ever spoke to david king out of his real phone, just in case someone asks.
[ okay well this isn't why he gave evan this number. it takes him a little while to get around to it (juggling three numbers is a lot, okay) and when he does, he doesn't think he's crazy for detecting a tone there. ]
[ or maybe it's just evan's perpetually grouchiness shining through. david raises an eyebrow at it, looking from his phone to the girl in question who has, coincidentally, spent almost the entire day so far sleeping off a bender in his bed. (the one in his parents' home, obviously.) ]
[ there's always a tone with him. even through text, evan can't stop himself from projecting every inch of frustration he lives with every second of every day. ]
in fairness, it's always that kind of week. but this one's been worse than usual. he's not on his game. he hasn't been sleeping well. he's got nonstop headaches, bad enough to distract without being bad enough to cripple. he's got a shit ton of work to do and no time to do it in. his father's being no less of a - no less of himself than usual.
and he broke up with her, the girl he still tells himself he was dating completely because he wanted to. mostly because his father made it clear she wasn't acceptable. not the worst attempt he's ever made but still not good enough. she wasn't happy about it and left evan with some comments that are still stinging.
and then there's david, but at least he's not being the prime pain in the ass for once. hasn't been, lately. although they haven't seen each other much for a while.
saturday's drawing to a close and all evan wants to do is get drunk and pass out, but someone's been telling him all day that the king boys are out, taking out a problem, and doesn't he want to follow that? see if someone can get one over on david king, because then evan can sweep in and take him out for good? it'd be a sight, wouldn't it? he's blown it off multiple times before the idea of seeing if maybe david is about to get his ass kicked really sinks in, so instead of getting too drunk to move he goes out looking. alone.
it's a bad idea, but what the hell. if he dies, he dies. maybe having to clean up that mess will wake his father up out of his obsessions, or something like it.
the king family bruisers aren't a hard group to find. evan keeps his distance, sticking to higher ground if he can manage it. ]
[ some assholes encroaching on their territory is nothing new. initially they'd thought these guys were just a bunch of macmillan goons trying to see how far they could push, but the locations never made sense. second thought, maybe it was some idiot upstarts who didn't know whose territory they were on, just slap them around and maybe kill a couple and make them move on. but after a few scuffles, it became obvious that these fools are just determined and stupid and really think they can make a breakthrough and hold a few scattered blocks. ]
[ it's been frustrating as fuck, but david truly had no idea how much he was champing at the bit until his father made the order to wipe them out. burn the whole thing down and make sure they're made an example of. ]
[ a week of recon later and david takes a group of their most vicious assholes and descends on the shitty little warehouse they've been operating out of. he cautioned against using guns if they don't have to — they can slow the cops down, but if people start reporting gunfire there's only so much they can drag their heels on it — but the door's open to hurt them almost any other way so long as they're not dragging it out for ages. ]
[ eventually the whole mess spills out onto the street, and david's in his element. not many people in this city have half a hope of standing up to him and none of them are in this upstart little gang, it's almost a disappointment. it's not enough to burn off the anger and the frustration that's always on his shoulders. when one's down, david moves on to the next like he needs it, ignoring the blows when they try and pull him off whoever he's pummelling, throws the next person to the floor and hits them until they're nothing but meat and bones. some of his guys start to back off and watch, soft murmurs saying "king's got this." ]
[ another group going after the king family was only of concern to him and his up to the point where they found out it was just a third party and not one of their own going rogue or trying to impress people. after that, getting involved was strictly forbidden, in case any of it fell back on them. it's why evan ignored the cajoling up to now.
he's not dumb enough to go in the warehouse, but by the time the fight erupts onto the street, he's got a good vantage point. on the fire escape of some abandoned building, old and rusted enough that he wondered partway up if he was going to fall through the metal. but it held. it's holding, as he watches.
the fight centers around david. not as the target, either. there's multiple people to fight but the other guys are backing off, one at a time, letting the explosion that is david king burn everyone trying to get a hand on him. he's ignoring hits. shrugging off any attempts to part him from his current victim.
evan's never had much self-control in fights. it's the one place he doesn't have to, most of the time. it's why he's feared outside of his surname. he recognizes the way david's losing control. sees the frustration and release in it. most people don't do things like this even when they're this angry. there's always a point where they come back, or stop, or ...
but not them. and david's usually the reasonable one.
evan watches in total silence, feeling the way his heart slams into his ribcage as his knuckles whiten around the disintegrating railing, as david brutalizes another person. a few try to flee, and that's when his men get involved again, dragging them back in, beating them down, breaking a few knees. but that's not what he's really watching. ]
[ all that's left at this point is stragglers who get thrown into the wildfire that david's become. his guys shove whoever they're holding towards david who barely notices what's going on, all he's really aware of is bodies coming at him and he takes them out with the same brutality as everyone who came before. one gets their head slammed into a wall, one falls to the floor and tries to beg but all david has to say is a cold "shoulda thought of that before" as his boot comes down and turns them to paste. ]
[ he tears through the few who are left like they're nothing, and as things have gone they pretty much are. part of him wants to drag it out to get the most of it, try and feed that rage that's always burning, but these guys are too pathetic for that. their attempts to fight back or protect themselves are pitiful, more out of a desperate desire not to just sit there and accept it. whether he breaks a neck or beats someone to nothing, it's over. ]
[ soon enough, the street is littered with bodies and blood. david stands in the middle of it all, surveying for any survivors as he catches his breath. wipes some sweat away from his forehead with the back of his hand, but all it does is leave a smear of blood behind instead. ]
Check the building, see if there's anything worth taking.
[ he gestures to a couple of guys as he says it with a rough voice and they run into the building to look. he's not expecting much, these guys sold terrible drugs and obviously don't have the money to buy guns that are worth shit. ]
[ somebody offers him a cigarette that he takes and lights up, glancing around to see if anybody's watching. ]
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hardlydead) wrote2024-05-20 10:36 pm
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it's not his choice to be here. play nice, his father said. you don't have to like it. you don't have to want to do it. but you're going to put up with him or i'll beat the idea into your fucking skull.
and because he'd been brought up properly he said yes, sir and went to do what he was told, even if it's one of the worst things he's ever had to do. or at least the most morally repugnant, in his point of view. putting up with david king, heir to the enemy. a loud, drunk, hedonistic, flashy showman who's only still where he is because he can throw a better punch than most people, and take a hit better than evan ever expected. it's like expecting him to saw his own leg off and be glad for it.
but it's necessary, because there's always people encroaching on their territory, and archie macmillan knows that allying with some new vicious dog to try and take down an old enemy will end with the dog's jaws around his throat, while letting it ally with that same old enemy will end the same way, only sooner. so instead he's making a deal with the kings to drive this third party out. keeping the status quo at the cost of his son's frustration and embarrassment.
in an unobtrusive booth not quite in the furthest corner but not right up front, either, evan waits, drink in hand. he doesn't have to worry about king sneaking up on him or getting around his watch; he has nothing to do but keep an eye on the door, and in any case, david king has never gone through a door without everyone nearby noticing, the fucking prick. it'll make the meeting that much more of a pain in the ass, but at least this is technically neutral territory. friendly to both, rather than one or the other.
and this is going to be such a pain in the ass to start with. ]
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[ he turns up at the agreed upon time, and despite his flashy rep he's in practical clothes; a hoodie and trackies, durable instead of the designer shit he'd wear to the gym. surprised they didn't try to make some show of power by having them meet somewhere in the macmillan's pockets, not that it matters, he walks into every place like he owns it and this is no different. easy confidence as he looks around, gives evan a nod of acknowledgement when he spots him, and stops at the bar first. ]
[ they serve all of one beer that doesn't taste like watery piss, so david buys two — see, he's being nice — and brings them to evan's little booth. demeanour casual and laid back as he sets them down and then takes the seat opposite, as if he wouldn't rather gouge his own eyes out than be here. ]
How're we doin' this then?
[ no attempt at small talk, false friendliness. neither of them has the patience, he's pretty sure. pointedly ignoring the glances cast their way from people who know who one or both of them are, probably trying to figure out what's going on. ]
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buying the drink is just another slight. wasting money on an enemy to show how nice and cordial he can be. at the same time, wasting evan's time by making him wait until david's good and ready. by the time david does sit down, evan's approaching his boiling point, and it takes some serious effort to put a lid on that.
everything about him is infuriating. it takes evan a long second to get a grip enough to talk. ]
Me and you get their inside contact, get what he knows, and then get everything else he knows. [ because a traitor to one is a traitor to all. you can't trust someone like that. ] Then what his friends know. Recon's already on the way. After that, we get to be -
[ he pauses, teeth grit. because this part was where he almost broke one of the cardinal rules in his life and world and told his father hell no, because it's bad enough to do on his own, much less with david fucking king. ]
A fucking diversion. Keep their goddamn attention while someone else starts the dirty work.
[ he doesn't touch the drink. even if he saw it poured, he still doesn't trust it. ]
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[ david takes a deep pull of his beer while he listens to evan, eyebrows pinching and nose wrinkling in distaste at being a distraction. another thing he'd hoped maybe macmillan had differing opinions on, because how many people has he handled? how many fuckers has he tracked across the damn country and either dealt with or dragged their asses back? and now suddenly all he's good enough for is a distraction? like some common underling. ]
[ but what's he gonna do, say no? yeah, sure. the best case scenario there is he ends up cut off yet still under his father's thumb, but that seems unlikely. and he'd be leaving them vulnerable on two fronts. ]
[ fucking grunt work it is. ]
Easy peasy then.
[ another deep drink. he's noticed evan isn't drinking his, which is pretty rude. ]
Be real fuckin' stupid of me to try and poison you, don't you think?
[ he knows people think he's an idiot, all flash and no substance, and it's intentional to a degree, but give him a little credit. ]
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but it rankles him regardless. it's made worse by the way he has to watch david drink his beer. by the way david doesn't argue or insult him but points out the drink. as if somehow this is just going to be another day, another few weeks or months just doing simple, easy work.
like this barely fazes him, when evan can see that it clearly does. ]
Yeah. It would.
[ he's not drinking anything an enemy buys him. poison or not, he doesn't need their generosity. it's leverage. never depend on anybody else, he was always told, and never give anybody one up on you in even the tiniest way. ]
Next meeting with their contact is in two days. 'Til then, we stay down. Catch 'em off guard when it's us showing up instead of the usual people.
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[ what is he doing? why is he doing this? the text sends before he can change his mind, and now his options are to follow up with an instant 'wrong number', or to try and own this. ]
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No, why?
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stupid impulses. ]
Found a bar on the far south side of the city that's got better imported beer than the usual places
[ this is the closest he'll get to an invitation, because he's still barely aware of why he's asking in the first place. ]
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Okay, sure. What's the place?
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david seeing evan at the party: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rj_tLWMm0Fo
[ long story short, he's getting sick of being pulled into conversations about how important a good education is. having to moderate himself around the open bar isn't improving his mood any either. ]
[ somebody who paid attention to that kind of thing, (so literally nobody, including david himself,) might be able to tell david's on relatively good terms with his father at the moment, based on the fact his clothes aren't flashy or obnoxious — a way to say "fuck you" to his old man without actually stepping out of line. tonight he's opted for a dark grey 3-piece suit, clasically tailored and carefully thought out, right down to the black shirt and silver stud in his ear. very handsome, very charming. very tired. ]
[ he manages eventually to excuse himself "for some air," meaning a cigarette and ten minutes to himself. or that was the hope, but instead it seems like mild panic might be in order instead. intellectually he knew the macmillans would have a hand in this pot too, but seeing evan after successfully avoiding him for the last month or two just drags a bunch to the surface that took much too long to push down in the first place. the time it took to stop associating the smell of gin with him, to not remember the taste of him any time he was around vodka. he wants to march over and punch evan in the face just for having the audacity to exist and make him think about all that shit after spending weeks pushing it out of his head, but he can't. not here. ]
[ if he goes back inside now he'll look like a coward, but talking to evan feels like just about the worst idea in the world. maybe if he just lights up they can mutually ignore eachother? that feels like the right choice, up until his lighter doesn't do its job, sparking uselessly as if to mock him. david sighs heavily, speaking in a tone of heavy resignation without actually looking evan's way. ]
You got a light?
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in truth, he doesn't hate these events as much as he probably should. no, he doesn't like the rich fucks condescending to him in ways just polite enough to avoid getting a beatdown later on. no, he doesn't like being paraded out as the next generation of philanthropic bullshit, which even his father laughs about. and no, he doesn't like the fact that this sort of thing in particular feels like it's being rubbed in his face. he was never a great student, except in some particular ways that he never really brought up to anyone.
but even when he was a kid he was always drawn to the way people looked at these events. finery, for lack of a better word, always had his attention. the women in their long backless dresses with glittering jewelry. and the men, too, the way suits were so perfectly tailored, the way they hid every flaw, made everyone in one look so ... particular.
it's a way he knows he doesn't look. he's managed to extract himself to a balcony to get away from the crowds for as long as he can manage. his suit is expensive and tailored and it still looks like it was made for someone just a little smaller than him. too tight at the shoulders, too awkward on him. or maybe he just doesn't fit a suit. he's not a man at home in these kinds of things, even if he wants to see them on other people - and not that he's going to ever admit to that.
of course, the other reason he's out here is because he saw the king patriarch, and heard people mentioning his son. god fucking forbid he go the rest of his life without seeing david fucking king. he doesn't want to see him. not now. not after those few months where half his dreams ended with him waking up rock hard because of that one drunk moment.
when david shows up, because of course he does, evan gets a glance at him. it goes on a lot longer than a glance should. a lot longer, because suits fit david, or at least this one does. where he might be able to make fun of him for wearing flashy garbage normally, this - isn't the same thing.
the question takes a while to make it through his head, but when it does, for once his brain manages to function properly in the face of ... well, that. ]
You got a smoke?
[ make it a trade. pretend nobody's doing anybody a favor here. ]
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[ in turn he pretends not to notice the way evan just looks kind of awkward when he looks his way, something weird in his shoulders, or just the way he's holding himself. he doesn't look bad exactly, just, well, awkward. not that that's something david would consider. they had a couple of stupid, drunk encounters and now that's in the past. he's over it. ]
[ at the question, he nods. a trade is good, makes him feel less annoyed about the whole thing. he fishes a pack of cigarettes out of his inside pocket and steps closer so he can offer it out for evan to take one. totally normal and casual. ]
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like david, except that his suit is already basically ideal.
he finds his lighter - with its own pack of cigarettes, but he's not about to show those off now - and takes a cigarette from david's pack. lights up quickly enough and then offers it over in a way that means their hands never have to touch. it's an old-school lighter, heavy and metal, with a little decorative engraving on the sides. clearly well-used and well-maintained.
he waits until the lighter comes back to him before considering whether speaking is a good idea. maybe if he just keeps on the topic of tonight instead of literally anything else, it won't be so bad. ]
Here to show us all up, huh?
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You out?
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Yeah. What's up?
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New bar opened up. Haven't been there yet. Not really my kind of place
[ it'll be closed in a month, he's sure. three at the most. but. ]
2 for $5 domestic and imported from 5 til 9
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You wanna check it out?
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and then, maybe a week or two later: ]
Who the fuck is that girl I keep seeing you with?
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[ or maybe it's just evan's perpetually grouchiness shining through. david raises an eyebrow at it, looking from his phone to the girl in question who has, coincidentally, spent almost the entire day so far sleeping off a bender in his bed. (the one in his parents' home, obviously.) ]
Amelia? What about her?
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Been the same girl for like two weeks
You two serious or what
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in fairness, it's always that kind of week. but this one's been worse than usual. he's not on his game. he hasn't been sleeping well. he's got nonstop headaches, bad enough to distract without being bad enough to cripple. he's got a shit ton of work to do and no time to do it in. his father's being no less of a - no less of himself than usual.
and he broke up with her, the girl he still tells himself he was dating completely because he wanted to. mostly because his father made it clear she wasn't acceptable. not the worst attempt he's ever made but still not good enough. she wasn't happy about it and left evan with some comments that are still stinging.
and then there's david, but at least he's not being the prime pain in the ass for once. hasn't been, lately. although they haven't seen each other much for a while.
saturday's drawing to a close and all evan wants to do is get drunk and pass out, but someone's been telling him all day that the king boys are out, taking out a problem, and doesn't he want to follow that? see if someone can get one over on david king, because then evan can sweep in and take him out for good? it'd be a sight, wouldn't it? he's blown it off multiple times before the idea of seeing if maybe david is about to get his ass kicked really sinks in, so instead of getting too drunk to move he goes out looking. alone.
it's a bad idea, but what the hell. if he dies, he dies. maybe having to clean up that mess will wake his father up out of his obsessions, or something like it.
the king family bruisers aren't a hard group to find. evan keeps his distance, sticking to higher ground if he can manage it. ]
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[ it's been frustrating as fuck, but david truly had no idea how much he was champing at the bit until his father made the order to wipe them out. burn the whole thing down and make sure they're made an example of. ]
[ a week of recon later and david takes a group of their most vicious assholes and descends on the shitty little warehouse they've been operating out of. he cautioned against using guns if they don't have to — they can slow the cops down, but if people start reporting gunfire there's only so much they can drag their heels on it — but the door's open to hurt them almost any other way so long as they're not dragging it out for ages. ]
[ eventually the whole mess spills out onto the street, and david's in his element. not many people in this city have half a hope of standing up to him and none of them are in this upstart little gang, it's almost a disappointment. it's not enough to burn off the anger and the frustration that's always on his shoulders. when one's down, david moves on to the next like he needs it, ignoring the blows when they try and pull him off whoever he's pummelling, throws the next person to the floor and hits them until they're nothing but meat and bones. some of his guys start to back off and watch, soft murmurs saying "king's got this." ]
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he's not dumb enough to go in the warehouse, but by the time the fight erupts onto the street, he's got a good vantage point. on the fire escape of some abandoned building, old and rusted enough that he wondered partway up if he was going to fall through the metal. but it held. it's holding, as he watches.
the fight centers around david. not as the target, either. there's multiple people to fight but the other guys are backing off, one at a time, letting the explosion that is david king burn everyone trying to get a hand on him. he's ignoring hits. shrugging off any attempts to part him from his current victim.
evan's never had much self-control in fights. it's the one place he doesn't have to, most of the time. it's why he's feared outside of his surname. he recognizes the way david's losing control. sees the frustration and release in it. most people don't do things like this even when they're this angry. there's always a point where they come back, or stop, or ...
but not them. and david's usually the reasonable one.
evan watches in total silence, feeling the way his heart slams into his ribcage as his knuckles whiten around the disintegrating railing, as david brutalizes another person. a few try to flee, and that's when his men get involved again, dragging them back in, beating them down, breaking a few knees. but that's not what he's really watching. ]
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[ he tears through the few who are left like they're nothing, and as things have gone they pretty much are. part of him wants to drag it out to get the most of it, try and feed that rage that's always burning, but these guys are too pathetic for that. their attempts to fight back or protect themselves are pitiful, more out of a desperate desire not to just sit there and accept it. whether he breaks a neck or beats someone to nothing, it's over. ]
[ soon enough, the street is littered with bodies and blood. david stands in the middle of it all, surveying for any survivors as he catches his breath. wipes some sweat away from his forehead with the back of his hand, but all it does is leave a smear of blood behind instead. ]
Check the building, see if there's anything worth taking.
[ he gestures to a couple of guys as he says it with a rough voice and they run into the building to look. he's not expecting much, these guys sold terrible drugs and obviously don't have the money to buy guns that are worth shit. ]
[ somebody offers him a cigarette that he takes and lights up, glancing around to see if anybody's watching. ]
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