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@ω Wonpil K. Breathing a sigh of relief, Yugyeom snatched his arm from the table, cradling it against his chest to staunch the bleeding. "Noted. I think that the best case for the both of us at this point is to be as far away as possible til that fateful day when a contract is back on my life." He stated simply

Yugyeom was no believer in fate, destiny, or any of that other crap, but this exchange felt monumental. Just from the look on the assassin's face he new that Wonpil's face would be the last face he would see before he left this plain of existence....At least that's if the psycho didn't die before he did. It would be a gamble, but he may just have to try and rid himself of this deranged pest using alternate means if he wished to stay alive and unmaimed.

"I'll be going then," he said, standing from the table and making his way to the front door. "With any luck, I won't have to see you're face for at least another year."

@ω Yugyeom K. He pulled the knife out of Yugyeom's flesh and wiped it delicately on his pant leg before slipping it back into his pocket. His eyes never left Yugyeom, studying him as he raised his glass to his lips as though nothing had happened and took a slow sip.

Despite putting away the knife, Wonpil did not release the executive; he weighed Yugyeom with his gaze and then put his glass down, uttering, "Do not test me, Yugyeom. I am sure I can find a way to make your use run out... quickly."

Finally he leaned back, hand slipping away from Yugyeom's arm, and raised the glass back to his lips so that he could finish his drink before returning home. He continued to watch Yugyeom, cold and appraising; it was thrilling, tormenting him, and Wonpil had to keep himself in check before he actually tortured the executive.

One day. One day he would kill Yugyeom, and slowly.

But not that day.

@ω Wonpil K. Yugyeom arm was a light in excruciating pain. As the initial would throbbed in agony, the fresh pass of the blade against his skin just deepened his understanding of what true anguish is. With every slice he tried to free his arm, but simply couldn't free himself from the assassin's grip.

"If you're done marking your territory like a ing dog," Yugyeom strained, once again futilely attempting to wrestle his arm from the killer's grip, "Let. Me. Go. I'll be sure to keep on living until you're finally cleared to kill me. Deal? Besides I'm sure all the horrors you have waiting for me can't be done in such a public setting."

Truth be told, Yugyeom didn't need the hassle of a public scandal. If this incident got out to the mass media, who knows what the other heads of the ONE group would think or do.

@ω Yugyeom K. Wonpil's lips spread in the sharpest, most feral of grins. The cry of pain -- that was what he wanted to hear, rather than the executive's proverbial poking at him with a stick. It would serve a reminder to Yugyeom that he shouldn't play with individuals like Wonpil. He could torture Yugyeom without killing him, could make him cry for mercy and leave him bed-bound without taking his life.

He was not someone anyone should play with.

"You brought this upon yourself," Wonpil shrugged, the grin gone and replaced with his default blank expression. Being called a psychotic bastard didn't bother him. After all... he wasn't delusional to the point of believing himself to be sane. He knew he was a twisted, evil son of a and that didn't bother him. He'd been made that way, believe it or not he wasn't born with the seeds of demonhood planted in his .

At one time he'd actually been a sweet boy with a brilliant smile and many friends. Now he was a monster with a bright knife and a long list of victims stretching out behind him. He had aptly been labeled the kiss of death, and now that was essentially his name. Did it bother him? Truly not. Wonpil liked this new name.

Tears sparkled in Yugyeom's eyes and Wonpil decided he liked ONE's precious executive better when he was in pain and crying. He looked pathetic, the kind of broken expression Wonpil often saw on his victims when they realized there was no escaping.

"I could," he hummed. Quick as a snake he yanked the knife out of Yugyeom's arm, but his other hand held the wounded appendage to the table and Wonpil drove the blade into his flesh again -- this time only carving, not stabbing. The swirls and lines made by the knife left a crude scrawl of his alias etched into Yugyeom's skin, weeping blood and undoubtedly stinging.

"Or I could do that."

@ω Wonpil K. Yugyeom narrowed his eyes at the assassin before him. Of course he was prodding at him. That what you do to dangerous animals that are on a leash. And least when you're tipsy anyway. And why not? Wonpil was an animal through and through. Dangerous, savage, and unpredictable. If he would have been in his right mind, Yugyeom would've have goaded him like he did.

"I am most de-," Yugyeom words cut off for a brief moment. The initial slide of the blade through his arm not registering for at first, before a wail of agony tore through his throat. "!" You psychotic bastard!!" he hissed, as his arm shook, crimson seeping from the wound through his shirt and onto the table and tears just shy of falling. down his cheeks.

He had only a handful of options to get out of this situation, none of which he particularly liked. On the one hand he could cause a scene, and hope that one of the patrons or employees would call the cops, but he couldn't put much faith in that. There was a possibility that whatever shield showed up to handle the situation would be on TZ's payroll. On the other hand he could grovel and beg like any 'good' omega would do. But Yugyeom would rather walk on shatter glass barefoot before apologizing to this wolf in a human's skin.

Turning his teary gaze to Wonpil he gritttig his teeth, Yugyeom hissed "Thanks for the reminder. I won't be forgetting it anytime soon. So how about you get this knife out of my arm and we call it a night?"

@ω Yugyeom K. Wonpil could practically feel Yugyeom's discomfort. It was so obvious, so amusing; the assassin wasn't one to betray his feelings with facial expressions and he very rarely smiled, but there was a cruel twinkle in his eye as he watched Yugyeom like a spider watching a trapped fly.

"I daresay you wouldn't like it very much," Wonpil remarked, nonchalant. His gaze didn't falter as Yugyeom squirmed, the executive clearly tense. He was like a bug that knew it was about to be pinned but had nowhere to escape. There was no mistake about it -- Yugyeom was still in very real danger, despite the orders Wonpil was under not to take his life. No one had said anything about mutilating him and leaving him alive, and he felt Yugyeom was wise enough to know that.

The hand on Wonpil's knee moved, sliding into the pocket of the unassuming leather jacket he was wearing. Slim, pale fingers closed around the switchblade that he carried concealed and he tilted his head at Yugyeom. "I am sure that you are," he agreed, withdrawing his hand. Under the table he flicked open the weapon, his words covering the soft /shnick/ of the action. "It seems to me that you're just poking and prodding at me, Yugyeom," he remarked.

In one swift motion, the knife was whipped from beneath the table and speared into the flesh of the arm that the executive had stretched out on the table.

"Don't forget that I can still carve out pieces of your flesh without killing you," he warned, words level and eyes void. His hand stayed wrapped around the hilt of the knife that was embedded in Yugyeom's arm, the other finally wrapping around his glass so he could sip his whiskey.

@ω Wonpil K. Yugyeom fought the urge to roll his eyes at the man's response. Of course nothing would occupy his thoughts for very long. He would wager that if left completely to his own devices, Wonpil would go on a directionless killing spree, cleaving through bodies like scissors through paper.

"I shudder to think what goes on in that head of yours," he muttered, taking another sip of his drink, swallowing thickly at Wonpil's snake like gaze. He shifted then, leaning back to try and loosen some of the tension in his muscles, but couldn't. Only a complete idiot would honestly relax and in the presence of a predator like the one seated before him. Sure, Wonpil was forbidden to kill him, but as far as he was aware, maiming and dismemberment were still on the table, and Yugyeom would prefer to leave this conversation as physically unscathed as possible.

"Actually, " he stated, leaning forward as he placed an arm on table, slipping on a smile of his own as the liquid courage swelled. "I did. I never would have even imagined that you thought killing me would be privilege. I'm flattered, truly" he said leaning back in his seat as he continued. "The way I saw it at the time, you would have forgotten I existed and moved on to your next target. But I guess that's were you and I differ: I fixate on the future, the next move the next objective while you, at least in the one thing can only focus on the past."

@ω Yugyeom K. "Nothing occupies me for long, which leaves me many opportunities to think about a multitude of things... you being one of them." Wonpil nodded a thanks to the bartender when his drink was delivered, fingers tapping the base but not lifting it. Instead he watched Yugyeom, rarely blinking in his scrutiny.

Yugyeom was not only the only person he'd been forbidden to murder, he was also the only target who had ever managed to escape death, or even evade him for long. It had made hunting Yugyeom interesting, and when Wonpil had finally caught him -- he was told to let him live.

So it made Yugyeom quite the infuriating individual; he was the only smear on Wonpil's portfolio of victims.

Finally Wonpil raised his drink to his lips, one brow raised at Yugyeom's questions. That was an interesting thought, indeed -- while it was true that there were other gangs Yugyeom involved himself with, one of the very reasons Wonpil couldn't wait to kill him, Wonpil would not be beaten to his kill. The corner of his lips twitched, the closest thing to a smile he would ever come. "Do you think I would let them get to you before me, Yugyeom? For as long as TZ wants you alive, you will live -- because I am going to be your murderer. No one else gets that privilege."

@ω Wonpil K. Lifting a brow, Yugyeom took a sip of his drink, allowing the welcome burn and knowledge that he had nothing to fear from the assassin at the moment, to soothe his frayed nerves.Honestly he didn't care about the details of his contract's termination, just so long as it kept him from having to be in this man's cross hairs. "Surely I don't warrant you thinking about me to that extent. Don't you have any other contracts to focus on?," he asked folding his hand primly in his lap.

Truthfully the thought that he still occupied the killers consciousness was .....disconcerting to say the least. Everyone heard tales of what he did to his victims, their faces frozen in grotesque horror in death. Yugyeom didn't even want to imagine the lengths those poor fools suffered under Wonpil's hands, for that way lays madness.

"Oh I have no doubt about that," he stated with a dry grin. It was the way of their world. All useless things had to be dealt with. The sooner the better. "But what makes you that someone else won't kill me first? After all, the TZ aren't the only gang that I do dealings with. Are you so sure that /you/ will be the one to take my life?"

@ω Yugyeom K. Wonpil watched the color drain from Yugyeom's face, a sick satisfaction running through him at the sight. He leaned back in his chair, one forearm rested on the table and his other hand resting on his knee as he placed one leg over the other. It was an open position, one that spoke of relaxation; but if you looked deeper, you could see that there was some underlying tension.

He was never off guard. In his line of work, that was a death wish.

Ignoring the first question, Wonpil drummed his fingers lightly on the tabletop. "Trust me, I haven't forgotten," he responded, his dark eyes sharp. "It provides me irritation every waking moment to remember that I have been forbidden to put an end to your pathetic life. Do you realize that you are the only person I've been forbidden to kill, outside of TZ? It's... an aggravation."

While the bartender was still there, Wonpil ordered a whiskey on the rocks and then let the man leave, his eyes turning back to Yugyeom shortly thereafter. "Eventually TZ will have no more use for you and then I will... finish what business we have together. But until then, you are a sore piece of unfinished business. An untied loose end. And that... bothers me, you could say."

@ω Wonpil K. Yugyeom's day had been going fantastic until the moment a familiar voice sounded over the din of the bar. He wasn't one to pray to any sort of divine entity on a regular basis, but at the moment he wished he did as he looked across the table to see the assassin settle across from him.

Striving to keep his voice as neutral as some color drained from his face in shock he replied, "Wonpil, to what do I owe this unfortunate surprise?" signalling the bartender for another rum and coke to keep his hands busy while his eyes stayed fixed on the predator across from him, noting the slight creases in his clothes and small splotches of red discoloration on his skin from his latest victim no doubt.

"If my smell offends you so much then by all means leave. You and I have no more business between us, or did you forget that TZ and ONE voided that contract on my life?," tilting his head to the side just so, the night he nearly died at this man's hands floating up from his memory making a shiver race down his spine as the barkeep placed the drink on the table for him.

@ω Yugyeom K. Wonpil was not usually someone who went to the bar. He spent most of his time away from places of social gathering, unless he was there for his job -- or what could be considered his job. He considered it more of a hobby than anything else; he had been told all his life that a job wasn't meant to be enjoyed, and that meant that what he did wasn't really a job. He received income for it, but he rather liked the feeling of taking lives.

He wasn't sure why tonight of all nights his feet had brought him to the bar, speckles of blood wet on his neck but shrouded by his collar -- he had cleaned himself of most of the evidence of what had occurred minutes before, but there were some things he just couldn't be bothered to remove. He was a ghost, anyway. He'd be surprised if there was anyone around who could actually pose a problem to him.

Walking through the bar he was, for the most part, ignored; just another figure coming in off the street, lack of a scent meaning lack of attention. Had he not been using the scent blockers he knew things would have been a different story and he would have made a mess of the bar, but it wasn't so.

The assassin was about to lay his hand on the bar and order a drink when he spied a familiar face from the corner of his eye; he straightened back up, tilted his head in an apologetic nod to the bartender and made his way over to the man who made him grit his teeth and prickle with the urge to slit someone's throat whenever he saw him.

"Yugyeom," he greeted, taking a seat across from him, "I thought I smelled something rotten."