[It was a personal victory, however small it may be, that Armando didn't even attempt to get his tongue near. Ray had proven that he was more than just a pretty face, that he could defend himself and that he was true to his word. It meant Ray's words had some substance to them and weren't just coming across as idle threats. It also meant Armando was a smart guy and knew when to step down from vocal abuse; some might have taken Ray's challenge and gone for it due to pride alone, but they'd also be withdrawing with little to no tongue left.
Ray allows himself the slightest moment of smugness, even as his hair is yanked at even harder, throat bobbing as he harshly swallows down any noise he might be about to make.
Fight me with everything you've got. He doesn't miss that comment, taking it as a full put permission to hit back now without repercussion. Oh, he'd been careful up until now for Fraser's safety and his own, but if Armando wants him to fight, he'll show this Vegas pussy what a Chicago tough guy can offer. A guy like this? With limos and mansions and goons at his beck and call? He probably hasn't seen what the real streets are like in years. He probably barely ever sees tough guys any more, not after they're in a room like this and pissing themselves. And Ray doesn't blame any tough guy for that, because it's damn hard to act tough when your tied down and at the mercy of some mobster psycho, he's learning that pretty quickly.
That nick in the back is another wound to add to the slowly growing number, his skin cringing against the knife and his breath hissing, but his attention drawn to where Armando- and more importantly the knife- were headed. He forces himself not to jolt away from the blade as it hooks into his underwear, well aware too much sudden movement when there's something that sharp near his groin was a bad idea, but the flick upwards has him flinching heavily because jesus, he doesn't want that near his dick. It takes a couple of seconds for the cut to sink in, for his nerves to send the right signals to his brain and his visual cue of quickly pooling blood to be processed. That smarts. That stings a hell of a lot, enough that it's got Ray hissing out a very silent swear that comes out sounding like an; 'Ah, faaaak'.
He barely even pays attention to the slice of fabric the other side, although takes note of his now mangled underwear being jammed in against the bleeding, which almost seems counter-productive to the whole process of cutting and bleeding and-- well he's not given much time to question the action anyway, because the knife is right by his dick, exactly where he didn't want it to be. He gets the threat, he really does. There didn't even need to be the verbal confirmation, but it solidifies the fact that this psycho could slice his dick off right now without any hassle to the family. But it's merely a threat (for the moment) and Ray's exhaling a breath he hadn't even realised he was holding as the mobster puts away the knife and heads off again.
There's some squinting from Stanley as he tries to catch sight of what's going on, his gaze only broken briefly as he gives himself a once over to double check on his wounds. Superficial, he'd survive them, even if the one at his hip is throbbing and seeping through the makeshift bandage. And he has the possibility of three hours of this shit?
He doesn't even want to know what the guy's holding up and questioning him about, doesn't even ask as he shakes his head anyway, head dropping towards the items as they're finally brought over to the floor nearby. They look like some sick things to bringing to a guy tied to a chair, he can assess that much and how he'd love to be able to kick them away. Or even better, kick Armando, but right now he's staying smartly out of reach while he talks of high grade cocaine and blah blah, Ray doesn't give a shit how good it is.
There's no point in trying to argue his values with some coke user, so he does exactly what Armando asked him to do; he fights. Or more accurately; he bites. Of course he does. How can he not when there's a hand offered up so beautifully right in front of him? He goes right for the fleshy part at the base of his thumb, quick as a flash, teeth sinking in and pressing down harder and harder with every intention of causing pain, an obvious 'fuck you' without ever having to utter a word.]
no subject
Ray allows himself the slightest moment of smugness, even as his hair is yanked at even harder, throat bobbing as he harshly swallows down any noise he might be about to make.
Fight me with everything you've got. He doesn't miss that comment, taking it as a full put permission to hit back now without repercussion. Oh, he'd been careful up until now for Fraser's safety and his own, but if Armando wants him to fight, he'll show this Vegas pussy what a Chicago tough guy can offer. A guy like this? With limos and mansions and goons at his beck and call? He probably hasn't seen what the real streets are like in years. He probably barely ever sees tough guys any more, not after they're in a room like this and pissing themselves. And Ray doesn't blame any tough guy for that, because it's damn hard to act tough when your tied down and at the mercy of some mobster psycho, he's learning that pretty quickly.
That nick in the back is another wound to add to the slowly growing number, his skin cringing against the knife and his breath hissing, but his attention drawn to where Armando- and more importantly the knife- were headed. He forces himself not to jolt away from the blade as it hooks into his underwear, well aware too much sudden movement when there's something that sharp near his groin was a bad idea, but the flick upwards has him flinching heavily because jesus, he doesn't want that near his dick. It takes a couple of seconds for the cut to sink in, for his nerves to send the right signals to his brain and his visual cue of quickly pooling blood to be processed. That smarts. That stings a hell of a lot, enough that it's got Ray hissing out a very silent swear that comes out sounding like an; 'Ah, faaaak'.
He barely even pays attention to the slice of fabric the other side, although takes note of his now mangled underwear being jammed in against the bleeding, which almost seems counter-productive to the whole process of cutting and bleeding and-- well he's not given much time to question the action anyway, because the knife is right by his dick, exactly where he didn't want it to be. He gets the threat, he really does. There didn't even need to be the verbal confirmation, but it solidifies the fact that this psycho could slice his dick off right now without any hassle to the family. But it's merely a threat (for the moment) and Ray's exhaling a breath he hadn't even realised he was holding as the mobster puts away the knife and heads off again.
There's some squinting from Stanley as he tries to catch sight of what's going on, his gaze only broken briefly as he gives himself a once over to double check on his wounds. Superficial, he'd survive them, even if the one at his hip is throbbing and seeping through the makeshift bandage. And he has the possibility of three hours of this shit?
He doesn't even want to know what the guy's holding up and questioning him about, doesn't even ask as he shakes his head anyway, head dropping towards the items as they're finally brought over to the floor nearby. They look like some sick things to bringing to a guy tied to a chair, he can assess that much and how he'd love to be able to kick them away. Or even better, kick Armando, but right now he's staying smartly out of reach while he talks of high grade cocaine and blah blah, Ray doesn't give a shit how good it is.
There's no point in trying to argue his values with some coke user, so he does exactly what Armando asked him to do; he fights. Or more accurately; he bites. Of course he does. How can he not when there's a hand offered up so beautifully right in front of him? He goes right for the fleshy part at the base of his thumb, quick as a flash, teeth sinking in and pressing down harder and harder with every intention of causing pain, an obvious 'fuck you' without ever having to utter a word.]