Thread: Hugs And Killers (McD & darkangel76)

Hank sat in the waiting area of the Smith Son's Piano store. It felt like years since he had hunted, his hands shakes softly, not enough to show, just enough for him to know. Hank was a lot of things, one of them was not out of control. He had his methods to release the tensions and would later satisfy his violent needs. But for now... Shopping. The elderly sales man, whom Hank could only presume was Smith and not Son's, approached in a gentle smile. Mr. Johnson, I'm sorry for keeping you waiting. His hand extended was firm yet soft, the hands not of an artist but a craftsman at heart. Hank immediately liked the older gentleman. Oh, no trouble at all sir, Hank was always polite. I enjoyed taking a walk around. Now what can we help you with? His smile was unforced, natural, like he was happy he could help. It was somewhat infectious and Hank could feel a smile across his usually stoic face. Only one other person can make the stoic vanish. Cecilee. He paused to think briefly of her. Well Sir, I would like to make an anonymous gift.He paused breathing in To the studio over on Lamount, I was recently there and noticed they could use something better than an old baby grand and a rickety old vertical. The man's chuckle was ominous Oh Mr. Johnson, I am a dear friend of Leah's He ushered him showing off a grand main floor sprawling with piano's And what do you think you're looking for? For the rehearsal room something practical, durable, reliable he paused and thought of more adjectives to throw his way to make his intent known. Something that could if need be replace the recital hall, am I too vague? Not at all Mr. Smith showed him to a section of handsomely used baby grands. And for the recital hall? Something special, and I like this one for the practice room. He touched the dark brown wood of a Kawaii and handed the price tag to Mr. Smith. Now show me something to 'wow' crowds Mr. Johnson please come with me He took him past the main room into a smaller room housing only 15 pianos. THIS!, Hank had to stop himself from excitement. He recomposed himself and touched the Bosendorfer Parlour Grand Model 185 is the piano. The two men settled on delivery and Hank gladly paid for both, along with wishing Mr. Smith a great day. It almost ached how bad Hank needed a hunt. If nothing else a good fight would do. His mind was on edge, he was itching for it. He pulled his car to the edge of Parsons Park, a known family hang out by day, not so much by night. Even more so in a later model BMW and wearing a 4500 suit. He made sure to hit his panic button and sit by a lamp post just inside the park. Maybe a minute passed when the first group of drunks passed by, Hank felt they were to easy. The second group proved more promising. The ringleader kicking the cars tires, and spitting on the windshield in a show of defiance and disrespect. Hank calmly lit a smoke, one of his few...and rarely used vices, and spoke in a low but forceful tone. Touch my car again and I'll face fuck you with the concrete. His ears were red and twitching, his senses alive. He knew it was this or he would be delivering Cecilee to her doom, he had to get this out of his system. Return to normal for a bit longer. The leader spoke up, a surprisingly opposing fellow of maybe 30. What? he paused to get the communal laughter and chuckling going What. The. FUCK!?! Did you say? He approached Hank slowly Hank smiled and stood unbuttoning his suit jacket. I'm sorry, I know I don't speak so loud. Allow me to say again, 'Touch my car again and I'll FACE FUCK YOU WITH THE CONCRETE It all went to a lovely haze after that for Hank, feeling the faces beneath his fist. Watching in fear as one man's face approached his swiftly delivering a crushing headbutt to the bridge of his nose. Then. Silence. He sat back on the bench watching them clammer and limp away. He lit another cigarette and hummed a tune in his head. He was calm. For now. The next day he sat in his car and rejoiced watching Leah see the delivery truck. She hugged the men unloading the piano, her joy resonating inside of Hank. Her tears made him feel good, almost. He wondered who was she calling as she half cried and laughed outside the studio. Was it my Cecilee? I hope she likes the gifts. He drives off slowly humming the same tune.