<span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-family:Open Sans">Niegel frowned at hearing the way Ron prepared meals for his kids, knowing why he did it the way that he did. It was easier to eat out of the can that way. Less mess, and it wasn't as if they would dirty bowls if they didn't have to, at least during war times. The least amount used the better, and a pot of boiling water could be used several times. Niegel too found it hard to break certain habits he'd learned in the military, and apparently for his old lover, it was no different. He wasn't sure why it made Ron seem more relatable, but he didn't care to remember his fondness of the man.<br/>
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“It's a hard life, for everyone involved with someone serving overseas,” was all Nigel could manage when Chrys turned the statement around on him. They got around to more pleasant named, and the young man alluded to how he got his name, one apparently Ron didn't approve of.<br/>
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“It's not so unusual,” Niegel lied, because if he was who he was presenting to be, he wouldn't have known Chrys' real name like he really did. Their conversation was cut short when the young man got a text, but that was fine. Niegel had the information he wanted. Apparently Chrys had family coming in, and would be heading back over there that day. Of course, he would never arrive, and ideally, his family would think that he had remained at his friends, and his friend would think that he arrived safely with his family.<br/>
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Niegel only had to wait until he saw the boy leaving, on foot apparently. It was later now, dark. He shouldn't have been walking alone like that, but it made things easier for him. He would follow him, and pull up a bit in front of him. Getting out of his truck, he acted as if this was all commonplace.<br/>
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“Chrys, what are you doing?” Niegel questioned, acting friendly, and concerned in the way someone might be over a friend's child. It was only so that he could get close enough to grab the young man, one he didn't feel he would have all that much trouble subduing. He was trained in holding and overpowering an enemy, and when he brought his fist up, he pulled the cover off the needle and syringe. He injected a high dose to ketamine into Chrys' thigh. He was used to working around it overseas. They used it as a sedative, and back home, Niegel had been prescribed it as an antidepressant. Trading pills for the liquid form that he could deliver I.M. was simply enough if one knew where to look. He shuffled him as inconspicuously as possible into the back seat of his truck, waiting for the substance to take effect. He'd tested it on himself, watching Chrys' carefully before throwing the rest of his shit in the front seat. It would have to be gone through.<br/>
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When Chrys woke next, he would find himself tied up on a queen sized mattress covered in a white sheet. Niegel had purchased an RV a few years back, because he was wanted to be able to travel. In the last year, he'd sold his home, and purchased the brand new Chevy diesel that was hooked to the bumper pull hitch of the camper. The RV was spacious, comfortable for one man, but they would make do. Niegel didn't know what the outcome would be, or if he'd he'd be keeping Ron's boy long. He'd driven them out of town, to a more remote, planned location where they could get better antiquated with one another. He was watching from a bench in front of the dining room table.<br/>
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<b><a class="link link--external" data-proxy-href="/proxy.php?link=http%3A%2F%2Ffotos.fotoflexer.com%2Fdd05933ad49964e4089ed8301e82909d.jpg&amp;hash=056acb234977b507b8440a4fe0a68c5a" href="http://fotos.fotoflexer.com/dd05933ad49964e4089ed8301e82909d.jpg" rel="nofollow ugc noopener" target="_blank"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(196, 84, 84)">RV view from the bed</span></a></b></span></span>