Lysias had been stabbed a few times in his life. He had the scars and the hospital bills to prove it. The most recent occurrence was like a re-visit of how he had met his two assistants. He had been walking home, minding his own business when a couple of punks had jumped him over the price hike he'd just announced. Like a couple of druggies could even make a dent in the business plan.
Unfortunately they did make quite a rip in his jacket, and his shirt and then through his skin. He had read once that there was no safe place to get stabbed - that anywhere was going to cause pretty permanent damage. Lysias wouldn't count himself a particularly lucky however his wounds and scars would say otherwise. Maybe it was because he tended to tower over people that their aim was a little off, or maybe it was because he was quick enough to realise he'd been injured rather than expecting fair play.
Whatever the reason, Lysias had been in and out of hospital over the last week getting dressing re-covered and then, finally, stitches removed. He had been staying at his little apartment - close to the bar so less journey to work and also it was only a single room so his assistants were left to fend for themselves in the other properties while he recovered in peace.
He had woken up feeling more refreshed and with enough energy that he intended to pop into work and sort out whatever disasters had been created in his absence. The shower was warm and soothing but also a stark reminder of the angry red scar that was starting to form. Drying himself off a little more carefully than normal he grabbed a comfortable suit from the closet.
As he dressed he could hear the murmurs of people outside in the corridor and then the silence that suggested they had moved their conversation outside. Smoothing out his jacket he checked his appearance in the mirror and then grabbed his keys, heading out.
Only to be stopped immediately by a cheerful sing-song voice. Lysias slowly closed the door to his apartment behind him while keeping his eyes on the elf in front of him. An elf with a fur ball. An elf who was speaking words that Lysias had to take a moment to comprehend.
You named your cat Gary? came out of his mouth before he realised it and his gaze moved from the man to the angry lint ball.
Lysias debated giving Bobby a fake name, just to see how long he could keep it up for. But he had never been very good at games and besides, he liked his name and even more so liked people knowing his name. There was power behind it, even if bobby wouldn't know it.
I'm Lysias. Pause. It's Greek. He didn't offer a nickname.
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Mr Sun came up and he smiled at me, Residences
There was something about cats Lysias didn't trust. The way they had eyes that were trained to follow your every move or that they could be happy and playful one minute and then go for the jugular the next. Lysias often compared his assistant Atlas to a cat - unpredictable, judgemental and cares for himself first. Very catlike.
Lysias had a dog, Diablo, who was getting on in his years. An old bull terrier that, Lys pondered, given half the chance would chase 'Gary' until the end of his days. Diablo had long since been retired to the house rather than the apartment - he couldn't manage all the stairs and was too scared to go in the lift.
He looked at Bobby and raised an eyebrow at the attempt to pronounce the greek. He had heard worse, so he let it slide. It is fancy. He confirmed, crossing his arms over his chest as if it would give him better understanding of the man in front of him.
He leant forward and Lysias instinctively leant back slightly. He didn't get to close to people he didn't know, especially in his line of work. You never knew who would have a concealed weapon, though judging from the fact that Bobby practically forgot there was a cat in his arms, there was more chance of him shooting himself instead of Lysias.
Oh god. More questions. Lysias shouldn't have stopped, should have just nodded and walk on. He could have been rude and done that anyway - but Lysias was rarely rude. Cruel, intimidating and a general nasty piece of work? Sure. Rude. Not often.
Yes. I own Styx. It's a cocktail bar down the street. I assume you're legal to drink if your parents have left you all alone, he answered and if you listened for it there was a slight tease to his voice.
If you put... Pause.Gary...down you can come along and have a look if you like, he added and instantly regretted it. But the words were out there and the longer they stood awkwardly in the corridor the more Lysias would want to murder the new ray of sunshine just to avoid him. This was probably the better option of the two - besides, Lysias could leave the kid at the bar to get completely drunk and then just pick him up on the way home. Not even having to exchange two words.
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