Arisu? .3.
- Locked due to inactivity on Aug 4, '16 4:20pm
Thread Topic: Arisu? .3.
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Bump.
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Bump. .3.
Your turn to post. -
Oops. .3.
Ivan walked to the door and opened it. Before he walked out he turned back and looked at Giovanni. "Uhh, take care.." he said, then walked out quickly. -
He only nodded and just stared at the door. "Crazy.." he muttered, once Ivan was out.
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Ivan walked quickly out of the building. It was nearly nightfall. A good time. A small smile upturned one corner of his mouth. He loved his job. He started walking to his car.
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He walked to the kitchen and decided to fix himself a sandwich. May as well enjoy being independent before he'd have to start cooking for Ivan too.
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As he walked to his car his phone rang. He answered it quickly. "Speaking." a garbled response came out but he understood. "Yes, I'm on my way right now," he said, getting into his car. "I have everything prepared, yes." he listened for awhile then grunted and hung up. "Clients can be so particular sometimes," he said with only the tiniest hint of bitterness in his voice.
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Once he finished his sandwich, his finger now cut after trouble slicing the cheese, he sat down on the couch and turned on his small T.V. He scrolled down the list of channels and settled on the local news. Anything to show people more mentally unput than himself..
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Ivan drove to the park. That's where he was meeting the victim. This was the part of his job he enjoyed most. He got out of the car, briefcase in hand. He left the car running and the door open. He walked over to the bench, where his victim was sitting.
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Of course, reports on world disasters and murders and high speed chases. Lots of depressing stuff, as usual. Giovanni sighed and just kept watching, though really all that news made him want to crawl in a hole and die or something.
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That's how I felt when I came home from camp and the first thing I saw on tv was about the murders in Colorado. :/
His victim looked back at Ivan. "Finally, you're here." Ivan nodded curtly. "Now, where's the money we talked about, Mr. Johnson?" Ivan asked. The middle aged man sitting in front of him reached into an inside coat pocket and handed him the money. "Don't tell anyone about this, right?" Ivan nodded. "Now give me what I want," Mr. Johnson demanded. "Yes," Ivan said, reaching inside his coat pocket. His fingers tightened around the cold shaft of the small pistol. -
Uhg, you know I feel then. :I It's sad and ridiculous.
He finished the sandwich and went to the kitchen to throw his napkin away. For a moment he wondered what Ivan could be doing, but then refrained to think. It wasn't his business, and honestly he really didn't want to know what he was doing. -
I just hate the world.. What it's come to.. .3.
Ivan brought out the pistol. He let his victim take in the view of it first then set the edge of his chest, right above his heart. "You know I don't accept fake money, Mr. Johnson. Neither do my clients." he said with a wicked smirk on his face. Then he pulled the trigger. -
Yeah. .3. It's a real s---hole now.
When he got back to sit on the couch, he kept tuned in to the news. They were doing some random report on a little girl who was in need of a loving family. He sighed a bit and grumbled under his breath.
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