Liability

Chapter 43 - Dmitri

WARNING! This chapter contains heavily sexist discourse, non-consensual drug use, non-consensual touching, a minor pushing themselves onto an adult, weapons.

Friday
September 21, 2018

Dmitri is glad that his widening eyes can be interpreted as his awed reaction to being so close to the man he has supposedly admired for ages but he is quick to drop his gaze nevertheless. Would it be childish of him to hope for Anastas to drag his new prey over and land Amelloni's ass back behind bars for allowing a kid to enter his prestigious lair? At the same time, he can feel rage bubbling under his skin at the dimwitted moron right behind Amelloni and he wants little more than to grab the cretin's head and smash it against the table until he's nothing but a puddle of blood for having any part in the mess they are neck-deep in.

At the moment, he cannot care less that the idiot's eyes reflected anxiety and badly veiled terror for the one second when their gazes met, Mark Goodman dug a hole for himself and instead of lying in it like he should have, he managed to kick who knows how many people into it well ahead of himself. The whole picture might still be unclear, but Dmitri has no doubt that Goodman had a hand in spreading the drug among his peers. At this point, he can only hope that it was not of his own free will, not that it would change much. That kid won't come back to life even if Goodman had been acting under pressure, and neither will Thommy and Rhys get their old lives back.

"How come a beautiful young lady like you is sitting all by herself?" Dmitri bites his lip and looks up slowly, aiming for coy when in reality he almost pulls a muscle by not rolling his eyes at the overly thick fake Italian accent Amelloni goes for. The bastard was born and raised in the city, probably went to Edison or one of the other elite academies for rich kids, and Dmitri had the misfortune of actually listening to his real accent before; it is nothing like the exaggerated stress placed on his consonants and the lilting cadence of his words.

"Signore Amelloni," Dmitri murmurs, "I-I didn't expect for you to really come over." He starts rising to his feet but a hand on his shoulder stops him. Dmitri silently congratulates himself for not breaking Amelloni's fingers out of reflex for having the gall to touch him without his consent.

"Please, no need to stand. I and my young friend would rather join you to keep you company, right, Moros?"

Moros?

For real?

On the one hand, it seems now almost completely confirmed that Goodman has been part of spreading the drug, which is equally outraging and morbidly satisfying in the sense that at least walking into Amelloni's domain without backup wasn't a complete waste of time. On the other hand, Dmitri truly hopes that his face doesn't betray his thoughts because whoever came up with those code names for Goodman and whoever his accomplice is must be a giant walking cliché.

And that there isn't an army of teenagers out there with Greek god names running around and selling highly addictive drugs to other kids.

"May we?" Amelloni asks, his hand sliding down Dmitri's bare arm suggestively. Dmitri forces down the need to pull back and bath in a tub of sanitizing gel.

He lifts his own hand and pats Amelloni's knuckles softly with a nod. "Of course, sorry. I-I guess I'm still in a bit of a shock. Coming to New York and your lounge was already a great gift from my friends but to meet one of my idols in real life... You have no idea... This is a dream come true..." He babbles, getting breathy from having to keep his voice from deepening. Fortunately, Amelloni is eating it up and he sleeze even turns his hand to grab onto Dmitri's fingers. Then Dmitri gets the displeasure of having Amelloni kiss his knuckles while staring at his face with the type of hunger that makes Dmitri's skin crawl.