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Whiskey glasses are set down on the wooden counter with a clank, two pale grimy arms manifesting and taking the drinks.
Faint piano music is drowned out by the demogorgon’s roar outside, followed by Anna’s echoing laugh. She’s throwing her hatchets, letting demo catch them mid air- like a dog.
“When do you reckon’ the animal’s gonna try gobbling her up?” Caleb leans back against his chair, looking outside the bar’s window.
Danny grins at the thought, setting his cards down.
“If it ever lets us hurt each other,” Amanda begins, her voice muffled behind her pig mask, turning to stare at him. “You’re the first I’m trying my new trap on.”
A thrill shoots up his spine, making him sit up straight. “Careful, I’ll start to think you have a crush on me, piggy,” he teases, just to see the hidden blade emerge from underneath her sleeve in warning. His grin widens. It wouldn’t be the first time she’s stabbed him and each time he’d yank out the knife, his wound already healed.
Clown makes a retching noise behind the bar’s counter, giving him a dirty look. Danny opens his mouth, cut off at the familiar sound of a bell.
Philip uncloaks by the entrance of the bar, tilting his head in curiosity. “New company,” he murmurs, staring outside, voice low and raspy from unuse.
“Who else is joinin’ us?” Caleb calls out.
There’s no response, but there’s no need for one.
Old, rotting floorboards creak as Wesker steps into view, the blond offering a single nod towards Philip. Philip nods back, lifting his bell to cloak himself once more.
Clown wheezes out a, ‘Choice of drink?’, gesturing towards the large array of bottles behind him.
Wesker strides in, taking in the room now that various killers occupy it. Or so Danny thinks, Wesker’s eyes are completely obscured by the dark glasses. It’s the first time Danny’s seen him here, the man hasn’t been in the realm long. Rin and Sadako ignore him, continuing their idly chatter.
“I didn’t come to drink,” Wesker says dryly, stopping in front of their table. “Ghost Face.”
“Danny,” Danny supplies, curiosity peaked. The man hasn’t spoken to him ever since he rejected the proposal of being a test subject to Uroboros, whatever the hell those black tentacles were. It sounded too much like what Blight had wanted to try on him.“Or Jed, Jed’s good too. No need to be so formal, mi amigo.”
“Danny.” Wesker settles on with a downwards twitch of his lips. “I hear you have a camera, capable of producing a picture in an instant.”
Caleb spits on the floor beside him before going back to take a swig of his drink. Wesker remains stoic, Danny’s head cocking to the side. “Go on.”
“I want a picture of someone.”
“Why?”
“That’s none of your concern.”
Danny’s mouth widens into a large grin, leaning over the table, intrigued. “And what do I get out of this?”
Wesker reaches up, tilting his glasses down to show off two bloody, crimson eyes peering directly at him. “What do you want?”
“Your knife,” he says quickly, nearly buzzing with excitement. “For a trial. I only have a few, it’d be nice to switch it up. I mean, I’ve tried out a few from the legion group, but they didn’t feel right. I want to give yours a twirl. What do you say?”
A blonde brow raises. “Fine.”
Danny whoops, standing up to offer a hand. Wesker stares at it with disdain. “Alright, blondie. Who do you want a picture of? I can do multiple, different angles, I have an unlimited roll supply you know. But they’ll cost ya’.”
Wesker gives him a slow nod, and in any other instance he might even consider the man’s gaze intimidating. He pushes his glasses back up, red eyes disappearing and taking his hand. “Chris Redfield.”
“Why him?” Danny can’t help but ask, huffing out a laugh when the hold on him tightens.
“None of your concern.” The man reiterates, voice deeper, a new, dangerous edge to it.
“Touchy, touchy.” Danny teases, flexing his sore fingers when the hold leaves him. “You got yourself a deal.”