<span style="font-family: 'Georgia'">It was simply endearing to watch Ash adopt an increasingly flustered disposition, however minute the indicators of it were; a raising of the brows, a lovely pink flush. <i>Okay, that's fucking cute. </i>Casper had anticipated a quick dismissal from the teenager regarding his misunderstanding, or perhaps an embarrassed chuckle followed by a swift subject change. But no; Ash settled for the obstinate approach, obscuring his error with nicely-strung sentences and multisyllabic words. Suddenly Casper was emitting a snort of laughter at Ash's attempt to salvage his dignity; not that Casper thought any had been lost to begin with. Really, he was finding this a little hilarious, because of how seriously his jest had been taken. <i>This kid is FUNNY. Whether he realises it or not. </i>A pinprick of admiration had also surfaced, brought about by the kid's eloquence when justifying himself, and how well he really had understood Casper. <i>Smart, smart boy. </i>Casper stifled his laughter but a smile remained.<br/>
<br/>
"Top notch use of vocab, really," Casper said, rolling his eyes, refraining from emitting another snort. It was a shame to note that the flush in Ash's skin had faded - his perfectly sculpted clavicles and toned muscle more than compensated, though. This was when Casper felt the first stab at his conscience. Sexualising (because that, Casper realised, was exactly what he was doing) an underage (that, Casper realised, wasn't a definite fact, but he assumed Ash was indeed a minor) teenager should not be on any 34-year-old's agenda. This train of thought was ever-present even throughout his rebuttal of flirtation. By no means did Casper consider himself a man of ethics, or someone with considerably high moral standards. But there was already one felon residing in this household; no point in becoming another. And so, he concluded that he'd reel in his sexual vibes and cease exuding seductive airs. Or perhaps thinking he was being seductive was just a fragment of his ego rising to the forefront, and maybe he hadn't had the effect he thought he did on Ash after all.<br/>
<br/>
This was disproved, though, by Ash's reaction; Casper greatly enjoyed the boy's loss of composure during all this. He thought Ash's previous ruffled state was lovely to watch, but Casper's pleasure increased tenfold throughout this one. <i>Hah. Bet you regret flashing those pectorals and throwing around winks now. Do not tempt the mighty Casper and his monstrous ego. </i>Because Casper's flirtatious rebuttal had indeed been a product of his ego, fueled by his annoyance at being initially thrown off. <br/>
<br/>
He was almost glad of the intrusion from the garden. And he was glad when Ash did indeed comply with his uncanny request. Apparently Casper was retracting his sexual interest, but he obviously wasn't doing well on that front so far because he refrained from asking Ash to cover himself up; he really did like the view. He acknowledged the lack of guilt he felt at this and let Ash enter the garden before swiftly following. Despite being sparsely clad, Casper bore the heat strongly. It felt as if an invisible sphere were enclosed around his form, confining him in a humid cavity, preventing the air from circulating, ensuring his perpetual warmth. Was it strange that he was donning nothing but a towel slung around his waist? Whatever. He needn't dress himself up for a trespasser anyhow. <br/>
<br/>
Immediately, his gaze fell on the ghosts of his deceased ferns, and he registered a spike of annoyance. <i>Groin kick and an elbow jab should be sufficient payback. </i>He grinned at Ash's sympathetic remarks:<br/>
<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff8000"><br/>
<b>"What a monster. Those looked like they were quite lovely."</b></span><br/>
<br/>
"My ferns were ugly as fuck," Casper said pitifully, trudging over to the murder scene where his chipped plant pots stood, some knocked over. "But they were my only successful gardening plight, you know?" He looked to Ash mournfully, as if the kid could relate to having someone break into his garden and trample over his plants. Swift movement to their left caused Casper's head to snap around, and then he was motioning for Ash to follow him. His garden was regular for a suburban home; large, surrounded by high brick walls, a swimming pool at the center, two deck chairs placed carelessly around the pool's perimeter, a few plants strewn randomly near the walls. Casper displayed the same disregard for his garden as he did for his front lawn. It was sparsely decorated, save for a raised sundial at the far end. The sundial was an utterly random choice for garden decor, and it was utterly out of place. But Casper had received it as a parting gift in Egypt, from one of his richer associates. It had been shipped to his home and the garden was the only suitable location to place it. Constructed from heavy stone and carved with intricate designs, the sundial stuck out like a sore thumb in the otherwise empty garden. As such, there weren't many things other than this sundial to obscure the intruder. And as such, the intruder had headed straight for it. <br/>
<br/>
It wasn't difficult to distinguish the intruder's backside from the stone sundial, and Casper walked towards the bent figure. Half-naked, injured and unarmed, he was aware that he wasn't in the best condition to confront a potentially harmful individual. But he was confident in the assistant he'd brought along. <br/>
<br/>
"Alright you little git!" Casper yelled to the hidden form beyond the shrubberies and sunlit pool. "Come on out, or I won't refrain from resorting to brute force. My friend here has a weapon under his..." Casper trailed off as he looked at Ash, who was wearing nothing but a pair of pants; nothing to conceal the nonexistent weapon. Yeah, Casper hadn't thought this one through. Fortunately, he wasn't required to prove the sincerity of his threat, because the trespasser assumed a crouched position and slowly inched away from behind the sundial. The intruder finally came into view, and Casper was again subjected to that expression of delirious fear, of youthful incompetence. It was an innocuous-looking teenager, around Miles' age, and the hood of his Adidas jacket ensured that his face was partially hidden. <br/>
<br/>
"L-look," he finally said, his voice higher than Casper had expected. "This was a mistake, alright? I-I'll leave and never come here again-"<br/>
<br/>
"No, no!" Casper interjected. "Ensuring the comfort of all trespassers in my home is my forte, didn't you know?" He gave a sardonic smile before stepping closer, folding his arms over his chest. "<i>Wait,</i> are you a peeping Tom?" Casper instantly perked up. "Never had one of those! Ooh, here, should I flex?" He uncrossed his arms and prepared to exhibit his biceps when -<br/>
<br/>
"No, no! I swear I'm not!" The intruder yelled, waving his hands around as if to shield himself from the form before him. Casper found it rather insulting, that the kid was so opposed to seeing him show his body off. The intruder continued: "Fuck... I'm not even a fag, alright? <i>Trust me</i>." These last two words conveyed some sort of ulterior meaning, and he sounded... forlorn? Bitter? The hood was pulled off a clammy forehead to reveal a head of blonde hair and hazel eyes atop a dark pair of under-eye bags. He looked ragged, tired. "Uh, my name's Joe. Joe Gibbs."<br/>
<br/>
~~<br/>
<br/>
Joe Gibbs had never intended to implicate himself into this mess. He'd merely been a bystander at first, reveling in the adrenaline and lust that the performance had stirred in him. But then he'd taken part, and soon <i>he </i>would be the one to be fucked. <br/>
<br/>
That night, <i>that dastardly night, </i>Joe had been compelled by a phenomenon that possessed both euphoric and satanic qualities - an other-worldly spirit, perhaps, that had overtaken poor Joe's being and coerced him into performing the cruelest of acts. The only solace he found was that a murder had also taken place that night, which surely upstaged Joe's own crime. Still, he was stricken with panic and fear. Because Miles had been a witness. So Miles was who Joe needed to see. <br/>
<br/>
Making sure his crime remained unbeknownst to the authorities was Joe's priority. The other people who'd been present in that alley behind Macey's bar were in his immediate social circle; they'd keep their mouths shut. Miles, however - the kid who Joe's friends had all bet on to see how high his alcohol tolerance was, and subsequently the kid who Joe's friends had insisted on joining them - was practically a stranger. He had no obligation to adhere to Joe's pleas in keeping quiet. Miles could, quite easily, claim he'd been an innocent bystander, and could then divulge everything to a police officer jotting furiously in a notepad. Joe didn't consider the fact that Miles wouldn't gain anything by doing this, or that he wouldn't benefit from unnecessarily entangling himself in this crime (or that Miles couldn't even remember what had occurred). No; all Joe could conjure in his mind's eye with perfect clarity was an accusatory Miles, pointing at Joe and rattling off to a policeman, the latter already producing a set of glinting handcuffs. <br/>
<br/>
Even after Joe's wounds from the fight had healed, he hadn't gotten any sleep. Soon, he'd abandoned his strict workout schedule and had forsaken his diet. Hence the eye-bags and tightly fitting tracksuit. It wasn't difficult at all to find Miles' place of residence; the real obstacle was trying to talk to him. The severity of Miles' injuries wasn't a factor Joe had considered, and he spent hours at a time waiting outside that ugly fucking lawn for Miles to come out. But he never did. All Joe saw was a dark-haired man travel to and fro the house, running errands and the such. Joe didn't dare approach the front door and ask to see Miles, because his paranoid and deluded state of mind warned him against doing so, lest one of Miles' parents saw him and later became another witness at the stand. But finally, one day, after scouting the perimeter of the house and discovering a garden wall, Joe had opted to trespass, planning to scale a wall to one of the house's bedrooms and then stealthily find Miles without alerting his parents. It was a risky venture, so Joe proceeded with caution. Once climbing over the garden wall, he'd waited outside a window for the man he'd previously seen to come downstairs, so that the top floor was free for Joe to break into. It didn't take long for the man's half-naked body to come into view, and then Joe jumped onto the windowsill and grabbed at a protruding brick to haul himself up. <br/>
<br/>
But alas, his abandonment of his workout schedule finally took its toll, because he failed miserably at scaling the wall to the bedroom window above. Forlorn and feeling stupid, he looked hopelessly through the bottom window again, only to see the dark-haired man staring right back. <br/>
<br/>
Joe had instinctively dashed away and attempted to climb the garden wall again to fuck off out of there, but suddenly he found himself incapable of doing so. The wall was suddenly too high, too sturdy, too smooth to accommodate a good grip. So he settled on the indisputable fact that he was fucking dead, and waited for the man to emerge and bash his head in. But no one came for a good few minutes. He looked through the window again several times, but yes - the man was indeed still there. So what was keeping him from coming out? Deciding to look through the window once more, Joe leaned a little too forwards, and then suddenly he'd tipped three ceramic pots over and mushed some plants into the soil. A minute later, two half-naked men were approaching him, and Joe shot off to hide behind an ugly-ass stone. <br/>
<br/>
~~<br/>
<br/>
"Well, Joe Gibbs, what in the fuck are you doing here?" Casper asked wryly, wondering what on earth he could've smoked to conjure up such a bizarre day. "Those ferns there were my prized assets," he lied, pointing to the mushed plants amid the chipped plant pots. "Proceed to plead your case to avert a swift groin-kick,"<br/>
<br/>
Joe grew alarmed and quickly began talking.<br/>
<br/>
"Shit man, look, I was just here to see Miles," he started, scratching at his neck, his eyes darting around desperately. And then he felt a stroke of genius, the words bubbling out before he could stop them. "Figured he was grounded - you know, for getting in that fight. So like, maybe he wouldn't be allowed friends over, but I really needed to talk to him. So I decided to come through his bedroom window instead of the front door..." He scratched at his neck again, realising the full breadths of his stupidity. "Uhh... sorry?" He gave a toothy grin, but it was shed when he caught sight of Casper's glare. <br/>
<br/>
Joe's gaze flitted to the kid standing near the dark-haired man, and he instantly raised his brows. <br/>
<br/>
"Ash Vicario, right?" Joe asked eagerly, happy to see a familiar face who could potentially act as his saving grace. True, he hardly knew the other boy. But he'd seen him around their school, and was very familiar with his obvious popularity and cerebral manner. In fact, he vaguely remembered that... <br/>
<br/>
<i>Shit, he's a friend of Miles!</i><br/>
<br/>
Maybe, if luck was on Joe's side (which it rarely was), Ash might provide his assistance, just this once. They'd never conversed properly, save for a few quick exchanges during some classes (<i>'Hey, you got a spare pen?' 'When's the assignment due again?' 'Can I borrow that textbook for a sec?'), </i>and Joe was acutely aware that Ash most probably didn't even remember his name. But maybe if he made his ploy obvious, Ash would play along. It was worth a shot. <br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, don't pretend like you don't know me man!" Joe said, already beginning to perspire - his sudden heated state had nothing to do with the scorching sun. "I'm like, Miles' best friend. I mean, other than you, obviously." He gave a (forced) laugh. "You and I don't talk much, but we, like, cross paths and stuff. You know. Since we're both <i>close with Miles</i>." He'd adopted a certain look and a slow way of talking, as if he were saying <i>'Come on man, play along.' </i><br/>
<br/>
<i>Is he retarded? </i>Casper was thinking, rolling his eyes at this sad attempt at deceit. He knew what Joe was playing at; the kid wasn't exactly being subtle about his intentions. But he allowed the ploy to run its course, solely to see where Joe was going with this. <br/>
<br/>
Joe, in the meantime, had conjured up another plan. He knew he wouldn't be permitted to see Miles if Ash said that Joe wasn't, in actuality, a friend of the bedridden teen upstairs, so he wanted to get Ash on his side. He didn't know how effective his goading had been so far though. <br/>
<br/>
"In fact, remember that... <i>thing </i>that had happened last week? Yeah, I kind of want to talk to you about that. Can we... talk about that... alone?" He knew full well that he was pushing his luck when asking Casper to leave them alone, seeing as Joe had already concluded that this must be the dark-haired man's house, and Miles must be the dark-haired man's son, and those must be the dark-haired man's trampled ferns. But he had to get Ash alone, to initiate his questioning. Because this was all driving him crazy. <br/>
<br/>
Meanwhile, Casper was assessing the particulars of Joe's person, analysing details that he hadn't noticed from afar. Firstly, there was a scar on the boy's neck. Secondly, darkened bruises were visible on his arm when the fabric of his jacket was slightly lifted. And thirdly, Casper could make out faint bruising around the boy's left eye; the result of a mean right hook, no doubt. To conclude, Joe had most probably been present at the gang fight. <br/>
<br/>
Casper couldn't decide his stance on this, couldn't decide how he felt. Did Joe know about the murder? Was he a member of the other gang, and was he now intent on revenge? What could he possibly want to talk to Miles about? In any case, he wasn't as deluded as to think that Joe would impart this information to <i>him</i>. The boy seemed keen on conversing about something with Ash though, so maybe Casper could pretend to be none the wiser, and use this situation to his advantage. <br/>
<br/>
"Okay, so you failed in your plight to avoid an ass-kicking," Casper said swiftly, having had enough of this terrible show of trickery. "But let me just steal Ash here for a sec, to discuss the method of castration." Smiling widely, Casper pulled Ash by the arm, ignoring Joe's stammering. They were a few meters away from Joe, but Casper still took care to speak lowly. <br/>
<br/>
"Okay, here's the deal Ash," Casper started, running a hand through his hair, feeling exasperated. "Pretty funny watching this kid trying to fool two intelligent, dashing men," he looked to Joe again, smiling wryly at how the kid was desperately searching for an escape. "But we both know he's shady as shit. So you are going to find out just <i>what exactly </i>he's doing here - and listen to whatever else he has to say. The kid seems intent on scoring a convo with you, so that's what he's going to get." He smiled up at Ash, almost daring him to refuse. Surely Ash was curious too? "Just play along and talk to him. And then report to me immediately. Alright, and, <i>action!" </i><br/>
<br/>
Without waiting for affirmation from Ash, Casper turned back to Joe and softly pressed his hand against Ash's back, nudging him forwards. Joe looked back at them, surprised, hopeful. <br/>
<br/>
Looking to Ash, he asked:<br/>
<br/>
"You'll talk with me, then?"</span>