"This isn't funny!" Karkota sounded like a child again. "Dogs are freaky!" He pushed himself up farther onto the counter. The whole always wanting to be around humans, was probably what freaked him out the most. That or the fact that his dad traumatized him with dogs once.
Tessa crouched down and clapped her hands. Stella didn't need any more encouragement. She ran for Tessa and straight into a hug, licking her owner's face and neck. Tessa cracked a smile, momentarily forgetting about Karkota as she played with Stella and cooed at her.
He slid off the counter as quietly as he could, half expecting to have witnessed a murder.
He watched them carefully for a few seconds before letting out a shaky breath. "Good to know she isn't gonna eat you." He joked, still slightly panicking.
"She's a rescue, abandoned in the streets." She waved her hand around, Stella's mouth hanging open as her head followed the movement, her tongue dangling out the side. "I picked her up and took care of her." Tessa flicked her eyes up at Karkota, recognizing a fear when she saw one. She had her own fears to untangle.
"At least your nice to animals." Again another joke, he was trying to cover up his fear. Even though it was pointless, after all he did jump up on a counter to escape her. What excuse would he make up? 'there was a bug so I sat on it?' as if that would work at this point.
"I'm nice to people I like." She patted Stella's head and let her back out in the yard. "I'm going to change, so don't do anything stupid. I'll have to make you follow me around at all times, and I'm pretty sure you'd be more uncomfortable with that than I would."
"Then I'll have to make sure to try something smart." Karkota had let out a breath of relief when Stella went back outside.
"Yup deffently would be uncomfortable. You do what ya gonna do. I'll await the food."
Tessa gave him a thumbs up and headed upstairs, shooting him a warning glare before she disappeared.
She didn't trust him as far as she could throw him, so she made it quick. She peeled off her shirt and skinny jeans and kicked off her heeled boots. Once undressed, she dug into her closet to grab some pajama shorts and an oversized shirt that she stole from the men's section of the clothes store.
What? They were comfy and it wasn't like she had a boyfriend to steal them from.
Karkota looked around. He could totally run. But the question was, would she send the Stella after him? He bit his lip, it was now or never.
He jogged over to the door, quickly unlocked it, and threw it open.
Tessa thundered down the stairs. She had heard the door opening on her way down, and now she was pissed. She sprinted after him. "Cazzo! Get your ass back here!"
Karkota cursed and ran faster, as if that was possible. "No thank you!" He called back to her. Gosh it'd been a long time since he had to actually run for his life, to put it into terms.
Her long legs combined with her experience with running allowed her to quickly catch up. She launched herself on his back, using the momentum to roll them and get the advantage. With him beneath her, she twisted his arm behind his back and leaned forward. "Guess who just lost freedom privileges," she growled.
"Oh come on!" Karkota shouted angrily. "You don't even know what they want with me so just let me go!" He didn't even bother struggling. Instead he just stayed there, face first in the grass.
"You know I can't do that. No one disobeys in the Mafia. And if you do, you get your brains shot out. So I think I'll keep my head and deal with your insufferable ass." She hated every moment of this. All she was doing was keeping a prisoner–another slap in the face.
"I know that! do you think I'm stupid? Why do you think I wasn't keen on giving you any answers earlier when you where threatening me! I might be the heir but that doesn't mean they won't kill me!" He sounded desperate, almost pitiful.
"Yes, I think you're stupid. You ran." She didn't bother with arguing anymore. She just hauled him to his feet and forced him back inside the house, his arm still twisted behind him. She was done. Done talking. Done listening. Done playing nice. Done threatening. She just wanted to curl up in a cocoon of blankets and drink some hot chocolate while minding her own damn business.
While she owed them her life, they thought it fit to walk all over her. She wasn't some doormat that they could use however the hell they wanted. They wanted info? Fine. But she wouldn't be pulling teeth or clipping fingers. They wanted her to watch over their precious prisoner? Fine. But he'd have a room to himself with plenty of food and enough freedom so that he didn't go insane. Her rebellion might be a little petty and dangerous, she didn't care anymore. They wanted to mess with her?
Then they'll learn the hard way not to poke a sleeping lion.
"So what are you gonna do to me now? Call your buddies and send me back?" He didn't bother trying to pull away. At this point it'd be useless. "Gonna lock me in a room?" He was upset, even disappointed.
"No." That was all she was going to say. She shoved him into the house and locked the front door again. She fluffed out her hair with a hand, her nails digging into her scalp as she took in a deep breath. She unlocked the door. She relaxed a bit.
Karkota stuffed his hands in his pockets and narrowed his eyes at her. He really wanted to just go home.
Even if that home wasn't back with his mom in Hawaii.
He watched her carefully, half expecting her to pull out a knife and stab him. Heck he almost hopped she would. He'd rather die now then by his fathers hand. Something told him he wouldn't be as merciful.
"There's an extra bedroom upstairs next to mine. I suggest you take the offer now before I lock you in a closet for a week." Her threat was weak, her voice not bothering to muster the harshness required to make her sound serious. She was tired and hungry.
Karkota didn't bother responding, instead all he did was nod his head and make his way up the stairs. Any amount of joking around, long gone.
Finding the room she told him about, he collapsed on the bed. To tired to even bother taking off his shoes.
After a few minutes of digging through her cabinet solely dedicated to alcohol, she found a bottle that seemed to fit her mood and just chugged it. The doorbell rang and she set it on the counter, then answered the door. It was their food. She thanked the delivery boy and paid him–with a very generous tip–then closed the door again. She set the bags of food on the counter next to the bottle and started digging through it, occasionally eating a fry.
Karkota sighed and rolled over onto his back. He'd heard the door, but wasn't sure he was ready to face her again- or ever for that matter. He wondered if she'd break down the door if he locked it.
She found Karkota's meal and grabbed the bag it was in, heading upstairs. When she reached his door, she knocked her knuckles against the door. "I come bearing food," she said quietly. Slightly slurring. Possibly leaning against the doorframe for balance. Perhaps a tad drunk already.
Karkota slid off the bed and forced himself to go to the door. Opening it he saw her leaning on the wall. "Are you drunk?" He asked watching her carefully to make sure she didn't fall. Why did he care if she fell?
She scowled at him and handed him the bag. "Just a little tipsy–and I still have knives downstairs and am quite capable of stabbing you should you try and take advantage of my current condition. Here. Food. Be happy I didn't eat it."
"I'm not that kind of guy." He took the food, his stomach growing as he did. "Thanks." He awkwardly stood there for a few seconds. "Do you need help? Like ya know, getting back down stairs?"
Again, she scowled at him. "I'm fine." She pushed off the wall, catching her balance for a quick second, then meandered her way down the stairs. Her knuckles were white as she gripped the staircase railing.
Karkota tossed his food onto the bed and went after her, ready to catch her if needed. "When did you even drink? You know that's not very smart when you have a prisoner." He held out a hand to make sure she didn't fall. Though it'd be good for him if she fell, he could escape. But he didn't want to, je knew it'd get her in trouble, heck might even get her killed. And he'd feel awful if it was his fault.
She waved him off, flinging an arm towards him in a weak attempt to smack him away–she missed. "Like I said, I still have knives. And lamps. And photo albums. And a shitton of other stuff to throw at you." She didn't want his help, refused to believe it. She was a stubborn drunk. Well, she was more stubborn drunk than she was sober.