Forty Six

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"I kind of see it." Mikey shrugged.

He walked around the chair Patrick was tied to. Inspecting him as closely as possible. Trying not to miss one aspect of his apperance.

"Come on, Mikey! You totally see it." Andy laughed. "He's cute."

"He's. . . passable." Mikey walked away from Patrick and towards Andy. "He's no me. But I can see why he might interest you or Pete. Maybe."

"I guess that's better than nothing."

"It's the best I can do."

Andy walked over to Patrick, kneeling down in front of him. Patrick glared at him. The duck tape covering his mouth was preventing the tirade of insults he was just begging to throw. Andy touched his hair and he jumped.

"You need to calm down, Pat." He said softly. "And stop frowning so much. You'll get worry lines." Mikey laughed at the words. "Now, I'm going to untape your mouth."

"And if you sceam," Mikey walked back over. His gun waving around freely. "I'm going to shoot you wherever I want."

"Do you understand that?" Andy asked

Patrick nodded. He reached over to tug at the ends of the tape. When his fingers got a good grip on it, he snatched it off. Fast and hard like a bandaid. Good thing Patrick didn't have any facial hair. He still winced slightly.

Andy stayed there in front of him. Staring into his baby blue eyes and waiting for him to speak. Patrick inhaled deeply. Clearing his throat before spitting directly in Andy's face.

"Patrick!" Mikey gasped. "Is that any way to treat your kidnappers?"

Before Patrick could come up with a sarcastic retort, he was being back handed with the gun. The slapping sound echoed through the large, empty room. His eyes closed against the pain in his right cheek. He felt everything. The hit. The breaking of his skin. The blood that was beginning to trickle from it.

When he opened his eyes, Mikey was still standing in front of him. Lifting the gun up to hit him again. But Andy came to his rescue. Grabbing Mikey's wrist to stop him.

"That's enough."

"But he spit on you!"

"Spit comes off." Andy wiped his hand down his face as a demonstration. "But bruises and scratches stay."

Mikey snatched his hand away from him. "He's going to be dead soon anyway. Why should a few bruises and contusions matter?"

"Because." Was all Andy said. But Mikey still obeyed.

"I can't wait to kill you." He growled.

"You're pathetic." Patrick growled back defiantly. There was no way he was going to show fear to any one of these men. If he was going to die, he refused to go out crying and begging for his life.

"Am I? Because from where I'm standing, you look pretty pathetic."

"And you look like you're wearing shoes from 2005."

The scowl on Mikey's face showed him that his childish insult worked. But he only looked angry for a few seconds. And then he was smiling.

"Well, I guess I'll just have to borrow yours after I blow your brains out." He rubbed the gun against Patrick's temple and let it slide down his face. "I would take your outfit too, but your clothes are for fat people."

"That just makes you seem even more pathetic. The man you've wanted for years chose a fat person over you. You must feel really useless right now. Especially considering the fact that you think killing me will get you to him."

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