✦ night life.

@godfrey gao. It was overwhelming, listening in on the discussion that seemed to go back and forth between the two frames that stood before his own curled self. At times it seemed like the words were pointed at him, but the pulsating that ranged from his scalp to his toes kept Yoongi far too busy to keep track of everything no matter how hard he tried to focus. Only when the steady tone of the conversation instantly turned sour did his instincts become sharp, identifying the man as more of a threat than before, the use of profanity towards himself labeled as despicable. Yoongi just knew that whoever was now on his hands was the kind of someone that'd test his patience and probably get his sliced if not for the fact that Yoongi was practically paralized. To the sudden demands, an animalistic growl of hostility and disagrement was emitted, not wanting to follow any orders. Who did this guy think he was? But alas, the rebelion was short lived as the radiating hurt kept Yoongi plastered to the floor. He knew there was no use in resisting since, even if the big shot didn't say anything to disagree to he'd make his way back onto the matress again anyways. But complying was just something he didn't do.
He waited until the tall strucure had him to attempt to pick himself up off the floor, expression grim and apathetic while his fingers curled into the ground for some grip. With hatred for his poor state he groaned, and as time went on he grew angrier, blaming himself for not being strong enough to tough this out. Yoongi's pride was damaged to say the least, deteriorated enough to let the nurse pull him up off the ground and assist his journey to the comforters. When in his rightful place, he muttered from the bed, "L-leave me be." Yoongi's voice was fragile, but the hint of rage was far from hidden. He was tired of looking at the two of them and just wanted to be left alone about now and rest.

@min yoongi. Perched before floor-to-ceiling windows that offered the most invigorating view of a beautifully hazardous city, Godfrey's mocha-colored orbs would reflect the twinkling lights of the restless night life, his gaze long used to these seemingly breathless sights. His small but fleshy lips pulled into a fine line; jaw clenched and covered in the dark stubble of a five o'clock shadow, long and masculine fingers tight around the stem of a wine glass filled with a silken red substance. His bottomless eyes watched the city, but that handsome gaze was distant, definitely somewhere else by now.

Last night, a boy had been attacked; and he's saying a boy because the dark-haired youth reminded Godfrey of himself when he was in his early twenties. Reckless. Violent. However, one thing Godfrey hadn't been was sloppy; his father raised him to dominate in all areas of his life, and there wasn't a group of people alive who could jump on him the way they did that boy, and end up walking away unscathed. Of course, Godfrey did rescue him at the very last minute, as he'd been mentally wrestling with his own options; to walk away or to redeem himself of all the lives he's taken in the past without remorse? If this was a way to make peace with his inner demons, it was a rather odd way of going about it; but others had stopped questioning Godfrey's methods a long time ago. Godfrey typically did whatever he wanted, and he'd wanted to save that boy's life... right?

Cussing and shouting abruptly slammed throughout the walls of the penthouse suite. After sleeping for three days straight, the 'visitor' was up and unhappy as can be. Whipping around in a midnight blue robe that cascaded down to his ankles and allowed a dust of chest hair to be revealed, Godfrey swiftly returned to the bedroom that was set up as a healing station of sorts for the paid nurse and doctor to tend to the boy. The nurse, a middle-aged woman who was under an illegal contract to work for Godfrey, swept into action and tried to grab the heap of mess that was slender limbs and a mind teetering in and out of consciousness. Godfrey tipped his wine glass to his lips, sipping gently, and merely watched. Such stubbornness. Such defiance. But, Godfrey could understand his confusion, and why he sprung up like a stray animal in an uncomfortable environment.

"You need to get back into bed," the nurse was strangely kind, an always intriguing personality to have around when she was mostly called upon to heal and nurture gangsters and no-good motherers. She didn't bat an eyelash out of fear. She didn't ask unnecessary questions. All appreciated qualities. Seeing that the boy's disdainful glare snapped unto Godfrey now, she gestured to the master of the penthouse, "Do not worry. This is the man who saved your life."

"Get the back into bed, boy," Godfrey spat immediately. He didn't need to be admired or looked upon favorably; he knew what he did for this kid and he also knew he wasn't going to be disrespected in his own domain. The boy would be of no use to him, banged up like this, behaving and thinking irrationally. Godfrey had no time for these antics.

"Sir!" the nurse pinned her own glare upon him, "Your attitude is not going to make things better."

"Or I could pick you up and throw you back into bed- whatever you like," the towering, powerfully built thirty-two-year-old went on to threaten quite nonchalantly, pointer finger tapping against the wine glass. "What I want from you, we can discuss in a week or so, when you're ready." Godfrey turned his back to them, figuring this was the nurse's problem now.

@godfrey gao. There wasn't much remembered from prior events. At best, he could remember the velvet sack of rubbies he had laid his thin fingers upon, only to have them snatched, replaced with a heavy hand. A beating, and there were just too many. The preception of time was lost in the transition of black to light, the opening of his eyes. What was to remember? At this moment, he didn't care one bit while his blurry vision scanned the room for anything familliar, but there was nothing. His ordinary habitat was completely rearranged, filled with lavish decors and luxurious fabrics opposed to his regular cotton sheets. This was not alright. Ignoring the pain that soared effortlessly through his nervous system, his feet were stood upon. Where was his dagger? Pocket knife? Anything? He was livid and only got angrier as he searched his slender body and around the room for any resources without any success. He held his head as various obscenities flowed off of his tongue, but it wasn't enough to calm his nerves. Shouting, he flung his arm at the bedside table to push off it's occupants and grumbled. As reality set in and motivation was let loose, he sunk to his knees. It felt better that way, to rest upon the silky carpet next to the fallen lamp and knick-knacks. His body had gone from aching to a plusating, numbing sensation, and with means of escape from the pain his eyes fluttered, traveling back and forth between the land of dreams and the real world. Until multiple pairs of feet came into view. They weren't his, not at all. Who is that? With all the effort he could muster, he rolled onto his back with a groggy groan, curiosity getting the best of him. Eyes narrowed as he scrutinized, and in his vision he presumed to be a nurse and a burly man. He wasn't having it. "What the hell do you want?" Yoongi's expression was defensive, almost ridden with disgust. He just wanted to be left alone.

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I'm so into these aesthetics