Ignoring the topic for now, Sinn'ous offers the joint to placate his prey. And it works, distracting Jasper while he inhales the joint’s end.
He raises a brow when it’s gone in a flared glow of orange, inhaled in seconds. Only for the ashy remains to be discarded into the small metal bin by the cell door.
His prey throws a skittish glance back down the second-floor platform. They’re alone, and that seems to satisfy him. It doesn’t, however, open his mouth to spill his secrets. Andwhen his eyes roll like he’s about to check they’re alone, again, Sinn'ous takes charge.
Two strides have him passing his prey and stepping into the cell. At home in the Satanic artwork, his own chest loosens. Reverting into a shell of safety to be surrounded by Satan. A warm embrace he welcomes. A consensual hug he’d never allow anyone else to do to him.
Giving a non-verbal command to the boy by flicking his head in the gesture ofcome.
And Jasper does just that, a prey to the slaughter.
The awkward way his prey fidgets, rocking on his feet, and blinking way too fucking rapidly, sets Sinn'ous’s teeth on edge. To stop from grabbing his throat, and slamming him onto the bunk to scare those annoying tics away—he lifts his chin to the bunk, indicating to sit down.
Jasper obeys, like the good little prey animal. Sitting on the far end, leaving a large space between them. Sinn'ous allows it. For now.
Allows the silence to speak too. To coax out the answers.
“I-I . . .” The silence works, and Jasper stutters on his words, trailing off on a shuddered breath. Then tries again, “you kill people, yes . . . ?” His tone is timidly soft, his eyes downcast. Fingers twitching in his lap.
Not what he expected. But not anything he can’t hedge around, and become ignorant of the social norms of conversation to deflect to a new subject.
“What happened.” An open-ended statement one can choose to interpret in any way. He already knows Jasper will answer it.
“It was an accident—I mean . . .”
Suppressing the urge to sigh, he bites his lip to drink in the pain, and kill the instinctual reaction of violence to get answers.
And then it hits him. The unspoken truth.
It takes every ounce of self-control from years of hiding his violent nature, to remain composed in the aftermath of this confession. Inside, his entire being is exploding as if someone shoved fireworks under his skin and lit the fuse.
So, my naive prey isn’t so helpless after all.
This must be the first time, no one looks like this if they are a seasoned killer. Which means evidence.
A body.
Evidence.
“Where is it,” Sinn'ous’s low voice carries throughout the cell. A dangerous demand.
If time is on his side, he will have all he needs to do what must be done. Disturb the scene, wash away evidence. Destroy any connections to his prey.
You are mine, I will not let the system take you from me. Not that any murder conviction will stand in my way. Jasper Marcelo is mine.
He can see the way Jasper’s eyes fade further, getting a far-off distance to them. It sends a weird twinge into his spine.
Then Jasper is peering intently at his hands, the floor, his hands again. Like he expects a body to drop at his feet. If only cleanup was so easy. To move a body, and mess by mind power alone. That would be a nice dream.
He could kill so many, then wish their bodies far away, and no law would be able to pin anything to him. Nothing would stick if bodies drop miles from his known location.
“The—um.” Jasper’s brows furrow, the cloud over his eyes clearing somewhat. Deep in thought as though he forgot where the body is. Because one often forgets where you put those things. “The filing room, down the corridor from visitation.”
Sinn'ous walks to the door, pausing briefly to squeeze the boy’s shoulder. A gesture that takes him aback, and catches him off guard. He chooses not to look too closely at it. Righting it offas more manipulation to drag his prey in closer, trapped away from the world at Sinn'ous’s mercy.
He plays it off with commanding words. “I’ll take care of it. You stay here.” His tone stays light to encourage obedience. It’s enough of an order to be taken as one, but not enough to discourage his prey from thinking it’s in control, and trying to flee in Sinn'ous’s absence. Just to be sure, he adds. “Right here. Until I get back. You understand.”
He waits on any form of acknowledgement, even when it wasn’t a question. And it isn’t as though he wouldn’t be able to track down his prey if he were to run. They are locked behind bars together.
