"Hello."
A voice crackled through the phone.
Henry held the device to his ear with a trembling hand—knuckles slippery, drenched in blood. He was half-naked: torn pants clinging to his waist, a ripped shirt thrown loosely over his shoulder.
"U-wagh—"
In front of him, a man—beaten lay slumped against the wall, coughing and vomiting blood, chest heaving weakly.
"Hello," Henry answered, voice flat.
"Up to your antics again, Henry?"
The woman on the other end spoke with a calm, amused tone. He could almost picture her—backless dress, legs crossed, drink in hand.
"Care to escort this lady, tonight?" she asked lightly.
"I'm busy," Henry muttered, thumb already hovering over the screen—ready to end the call.
"Five hundred." The woman's voice cut in—quickly, sharp, desperate.
A pause.
"For one hour."
Henry stopped. He stared at the barely-breathing man at his feet, then lifted the phone back to his ear.
"One hour?" he repeated quietly.
The woman on the other end—twirling her hair—smiled, finally catching his attention.
"Yes."
Her voice held a teasing hint.
"Since he won't be around for the week…" she whispered.
"You could make up to twenty thousand... if you're willing," Cassandra added, her eyes scanning the room ahead, a sly grin tugging at her lips.
"20K..." Henry muttered, glancing to the side.
"So... forty hours?" he asked, calculating aloud.
"No," Cassandra replied, her tone dropping.
"Stay with me the whole week. I want the fun."
Henry fell silent, lost in thought.
"Seven days… that's like, 170 hours or so..." he murmured.
"Just 20K for that?"
Cassandra exhaled gently, a mix of anticipation and annoyance in her voice.
"Alright."
"The more the fun..." she said softly.
"The more you'll get."
Henry paused, thinking.
"How much?" he asked.
"I already told you—" she began, but he cut in.
"I already know I can make you whimper. Go crazy, once I get to it," he said, calm and certain.
Cassandra bit her lip.
"That's why—" she tried again, but Henry didn't let her finish.
"You'll get all the fun."
His voice lowered.
"All the play. Whatever you say—I'll do it."
He leaned back, gaze focused.
"But I want the limit.
What's the most you're willing to give?"
A pause.
Cassandra's smile faded.
She bit her lip again—this time in quiet frustration.
"You..." she whispered, almost annoyed.
A beat.
"Forty," she said at last.
"40K. But..."
"But?" Henry prompted.
Cassandra smiled, voice low.
"You don't back out."
"Bet."
Henry ended the call.
Beep.
The line went dead.
He reached behind his waist and drew the gun.
"No—please!"
The bloodied man against the wall trembled, eyes wide.
Henry sighed.
"Sorry, pal."
His tone was detached.
"Can't let you take anything out of this room."
Wham.
The gun went off.