Chapter Text
Pat
He really did it now…
Pat was panicking, pondering all the punishments he’ll have to endure for his stupid blabbermouth. It was bad enough learning that he’s getting rubbed out of family, but now he realizes that they probably want to make a show of it. Why else would they prepare this whole elaborate setup on his BIRTHDAY, of all days?!!! He’s totally done for like the dad of the Valentino siblings who was definitely and absolutely murdered by his wife.
And that’s another thing!
He should have known that his family had shady connections. The Valentinos are ludicrously rich while his Nana owns a HAUNTED antique store with CURSED artifacts, and that’s just the tip of the iceberg! Pat really shoulda been more careful… now he’s gonna get skinned for the children and gutted for Big Mama and dismembered for his cousins, and roasted for hi—
The doors to John Johnny’s open and reveal a tall gator in a real dapper pinstripe suit who takes of his sunglasses and looks around the almost empty venue. Despite his general skittishness and the countless lessons living in Alligator New York City has taught him, he just… stares at the stranger.
They’re incredibly intimidating with their height and sharp suit and oh wow, gloves too? He can’t deny, if he wasn’t so busy trying to not die of a heart attack before the “Big Event,” he would’ve hid under the table and watched them red all the while. Alas, he’s still in his chair and it’s all that was needed to have a perfect view of the white-haired gator removing their sunglasses in one quick motion, revealing their eyes which…
…I feel safe.
The two of them lock eyes and Pat immediately tries to deflect their attention away from him. Two eyes the same color as a somber misty day focus on him and the clicks of their polished shoes echo in the almost empty restaurant portion of the hotel as they make their way over to him.
Everything spills out unbidden from his maw: his troubles, his anxieties, even hasty half-baked plans and requests fly out interlaced with the terrified ramblings.
Idiot! You’re just strangers! They might think you’re weird now and leave and now there’s another gator you roped into your mess and your family is gonna know and—
“I will require your number.”
A deep baritone halts Pat’s thoughts and his back relaxes subconsciously against the chair as the statement settles his mind.
”O-oh, right. Here!” He watches the gloved hand cradle the flip phone and fly across the buttons. “Um, by the way… what should I put you down as in my contacts?”
”Lazarus van Gunstige. Though, Lazarus or Mr. van Gunstige are fine, Mr. Patrick.”
“W-well, in that case, please call me Pat! Since we’re friends now, we shouldn’t be so formal with each other…”
”Very well, Pat. Please feel free to call me Laz in return.”
Calm down Pat, it’s just your name. Totally normal, people call you that everyday! His warm silky voice doesn’t change anything….
Wait— No! AAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!
… Waitwaitwaitwaitwait, he also told me to call him Laz… DEEP BREATHS, DEEP BREATHS, remember what therapy taught you!!!
He watches Lazarus nod politely towards the waiter and exit the building, all the while testing out the new name on his tongue. He knocks his head against the table before reaching out towards the bread, mind consumed by his impending doom and the new gator whose number now sits in his cell, silent yet alluring, much like the gator it belonged to itself.
…I didn’t even invite him to some bread.
Lazarus
Target confirmed.
A weight settles around him, its icy grip a familiar friend. Loitering around would be unnecessary, though it would seem that neither Patrick nor the waiter is leaving anytime soon. The few cameras of the establishment seem to leave numerous glaring blindspots, though his thorough background check on the hotel revealed no underground ties nor hushed up events. It seems that this place was somehow irrevocably clean.
Patrick is busy gorging himself on the complimentary bread, staking out would be optimal… though I might as well humor his request.
If he suspects a convoluted execution, then my involvement might either be ironic or a red herring.
Lazarus de Gunstige is a tall, refined fellow with a taste for good vintages. Every motion of his being carried this dark grace, liquid yet perfected like both the oil and the gears. Deft and suave, is a common descriptor of his personage by many who linger in his presence. Just as many wouldn’t be too surprised if you told them that he was a feared hitman whose alias is whispered in hushed tones as his current number of the time is treated as both a priceless artifact and a horrific weapon.
Now, he watches a young gator attempting failing to run a shell game in front of him. Whether it was their utter lack of a poker face or their young even younger than Patrick voice, Lazarus finds himself playing along with the scamp.
”Oh Jeeze.” He mutters in faux confusion just loud enough for little Slick Mickey to hear. A recent twang in his chest resurfaces as he watches the young gator’s eyes sparkle in relief and pride. Of course, it matters not if he eventually decides to pick the unmoved queen as Mickey blows on it to keep it away. Catching it mid flight would’ve barely been an inconvenience, but Lazarus was nothing if not committed to the roles he plays.
Granted, there’s soon to be one less commitment to be kept after today.
In a last ditch effort to win the game, Mickey burns and swallows the card, smiling nervously at the taller gator.
“Well, I guess we’ll never know who won! Who knows which way the wind blows, or some junk…”
Lazarus briefly considered that Mickey might be a master of deception and false conclusions, but he wouldn’t be standing right here if he didn’t know how to tell the difference between an amateur, a professional, and everything between and out. At the very least, he knows that this kid wasn’t the one that put a hit on Patrick. Asking around like some private eye isn’t really his modus operandi, but he might as well make sure to tie up loose ends for this special mission.
“Mickey! Good morning to you little mister, who’s this new face with you?” A woman’s voice greets from behind Lazarus.
“Mornin’ Missus Maria! Been a while since I saw ya. This is… uhh…”
”Lazarus de Gunstige at your service.”
“Y-Yeah! Lucky Laz here beat my hurricane fingies and pulled one over the King o’ the Cards. He’s a real tough jabroni, even wears the same kinda suit as my old man!”
“Well, it’s a pleasure meeting you sir. Now that reminds me, Mickey, if you don’t mind, could you smile for the camera? I’m planning on making a family tree for the event and no one wants to use their old photos.”
“You got it! Wait, Laz.”
The tall gator looks up from his watch and turns to Mickey.
“You’re going around Alligator New York City, right?” A nod. “You mind helping the lovely Missus here? Ya don’t have to, but… please?”
”It’s of no concern.”
”Thank you so much, Mister Lazarus! Hope we aren’t being too much of a bother.” Maria chimes in. “The family’s talking for months about the event, but preparing it all is complicated.”
”I take it you expect everyone to be there?”
”Oh I hope so! All of us wanted to chime in for Pat, it’s really fortunate we don’t even have to set up a venue. He always stays here for his birthday, though I’d wish he’d stop eating all those soaps…”
”Yes. He mentioned that.”
Her eyes shine, "You know Pat? Wonderful! That boy could always use more friends to keep him safe."
The knife weighs heavily in his briefcase, something he hasn't felt since his first few hits. "You have my word. I'll send you the photos through text." Mrs. Maria and Mickey get out their phones and exchange numbers with him. In turn, he shares his work phone, garnering a few glances from its very old model. "See you around, boys! I'm heading to the park to meet up with my husband. Remember, it's at Eight! I'll be texting you a list of them so you'll know whose photos to snap."
A hit during one's own celebration, how... unfortunate.
...
At the very least, I'll wait until after the celebration... He might as well have one happy memory before I...
He heads into the Arcade, a rush of nostalgia filling his senses as he takes in the neon lights over darkened halls and the sounds of coins trickling out of those cash gluttons. The smell of stained carpet and sweaty children are thankfully muted as he makes his way down the stairs. His phone buzzes with a new message and he checks it on the stairs, enveloped in shadow.
Daniel : Um.... Hey Laz
: So this is your first time in ANYC, right? I can help with that! Since you told me that this is a special job, I might as well pull out the stops, right? :P
Lazarus: Alright.
Daniel : No need to be so formal... I like workin with you ever since ya know
Lazarus: Understood.
He makes his way downwards to look for more members of the family, he might as well compile a file of "suspects" and "evidences" for Patrick while he helps Mrs. Maria with the family tree. Fortunately, she texts him two just in time, descriptions matching two in the arcade. It takes him about 40 minutes to talk to them and convince them that he's taking pictures for Mrs. Maria's family tree gift, and even then, they only give him more information about themselves and Pat when he wins a few games for them. Joanie and Geraldine even point him to the possible places their partner and father respectively could be today before the big event. The photos are just about sent in to Maria when Pat texts him to come back to John Johnny's.
Loveable Doofus indeed...
Pat
Okay, Pat... it's all good, you have your safe space and you have a trustworthy hunky gator investigating for you. He'll keep you safe and look good while doing it.
Wait, why is it getting darker—
"AAHHH!!! Please don't bop me...."
Laz sits down in front of him, dark eyes intense against his mint-colored scales I wonder if he tastes better than the complimentary mints— NO, STOP.
"Y-You have anything?" His nod makes Pat jump off of his seat, beckoning Laz to follow him to his room. "M-Maybe we should go to my hotel room! I think I'd feel a little safer there... and less logey with bread."
The wallpaper looks really intense like always, a silent pressure on the back of his mind as he turns to look up at Laz in his suave suit and his soulful eyes and his messily hot styled hair. "Thanks for protecting me! It really helps to have someone walk me to my room! The wallpaper makes me feel like there's always something staring at me with how intense it is... What am I gonna do?! My heart can't take 10 more hours of waiting!!"
Pat feels a gentle hand rub his head and he looks back up into Laz's eyes, which turn away abruptly. He feels himself flush against the gloved hand massaging his worries away, Laz always looked so cool and sure of himself and knowing that he's willing to comfort him only almost makes him upchuck all the bread rolls he's been stuffing himself with— in a good way!!! They make their way to a vault door somehow installed in the hotel and he excitedly tells Laz about all of his safety precautions and preparations. A small cheese and crackers... smile makes its way onto Laz's handsome face as he looks through the website where he kept his lock code HE LIKES IT! Excitement overtakes his anxieties for a moment as he prepares to take in the familiar sight of his room and—
"HELP ME CLOSE IT!"
So it turns out that there's a kindred soul in the same hotel also being hunted down by their family, using the same code he is for their room. Either way, he leaves the gator to the new hole in the floor from the evidently working defense system, and continues leading Laz to his actual room.
Okay, so I forgot what lock I put on my room, but then again, that's why I keep my stuff on my website...
"If you don't mind, could I take a picture of you?"
"O-Oh, sure, why not? we're friends now, right? ...Let's also take a picture together, if that's fine..."
His solo shot was nice, and Laz is too tall to fully fit in his He might be taller than Jared... whoa. However, their shared shot almost killed him. Laz knelt down on one knee and put his arm around his shoulders and it was magical, I feel extra safe and secure. Not only was the contact appreciated, but kneeling down let Pat sneak a closer look at Laz's face and catch a SMALL COMPLETELY ACCIDENTAL whiff of his hair AND OMG he's BEEFY AAAAAAAAHHHH!!!!
Laz massages his head again and takes off, and he thanks the tall gator for escorting him to his room.
"I don't want to keep you too far from the investigation, but I'll text you again at four!"
As the door closes behind Laz, Pat jumps on his bed, bites a pillow, and proceeds to wail and panic against it, kicking his feetsies into the air all the while.