Chapter Text
Phil had just got done with his meeting with Tubbo. Blue Team’s boss might be young but he’s smart and stubborn at that. He had come in to negotiate and put a stop to the merciless fighting between both gangs (really it was only Bad being a problem he thinks), they didn’t get to a conclusion but at least they got somewhere.
As he was walking out of the enemy's base a stranger crashed into him. Silverware clang onto the ground and a glass of wine spilt over. The stranger yelped and fell into Phil’s chest. Quickly, Phil secured the man in his grasp and lifted him up.
Cellbit, Phil’s second in command, had been waiting outside and ran to his father's side. At the blink of an eye his knife was drawn ready to end the stranger's life before the glass of wine could even shatter. However, Phil gestured out with his hands and Cellbit fell back a step. The few people who were watching held their breath, it seemed like someone had foolishly crashed into the Red Team’s leader. Tensions were high, this employee is definitely not making it out alive.
The man awkwardly laughed and offered a string of apologies, “lo siento, I’m so sorry man.” He quickly went to pick up his washcloth and looked up to see who he had inconvenienced. Phil wasn’t just another servant or goon, he was the boss and leader of the enemy gang, also known by the name Angel of Death. The man’s eyes grew comically wide, Phil almost laughed at how funny he looked.
With a new wave of panic the man immediately went into a string of apologies much more incoherent now, “I’m- I- I’m so so sorry sir, I-I didn’t see you were coming- soy un pendejo, me van a matar- I’ll get out of yo-your pretty blonde hair, I won’t be a bother I promise.”
The man stood at a greater height than Phil, but under Phil’s gaze, he never felt so small. He bowed his head down to show some respect and dignity, or what little he had left. He was waiting for the gun fire or the knife to plunge into him, but it never came, instead: “pretty?”
The man’s eyes snapped up; Phil was looking at him with a questioning brow.
“Huh?”
“You called my hair pretty.”
“Oh oh- I did? YES I did- I’m sorry it’s just, esta bonito, no se, yeah it’s very pretty you look very prett- I MEAN handsome- yeah no I mean you are but- I’m sorry I’ll shut up now.”
The man’s eyes snapped closed, and his cheeks were burning red. His hair was a mess, and he had a skull mask covering the top half of his face. And then the unimaginable happened, the Red Team leader started laughing at the man before him. He froze, not knowing what to do or say, why was he still alive?
“I like you- sorry I didn’t catch your name?”
“Missa.”
“I like you Missa. Thank you for that.” Phil reached for the red flower sitting in his breast pocket and carefully placed it into Missa’s. He tipped his bucket hat at him and started walking away.
Missa quickly reached out to stop Phil in his tracks. He could hear the sounds of guns being drawn; the world went silent. Phil calmly turned around and smiled at Missa. The guns stayed drawn; the Angel of Death didn’t seem bothered by it.
“I’m sorry I just- I noticed your suit got dirty because of the wine and I- I was gonna offer to help you clean it, but I know you’re in a hurry but uh- here.” Missa takes out a purple handkerchief adorned with skulls and flowers, Phil could tell it was handcrafted, it was beautifully made.
“Sorry I can’t help anymore and I’m sorry again for what happened. I’ll make sure to watch where I’m going.”
“This suit cost me a fortune; how do you plan on paying me back?”
“I’m sorry I don’t have the money for that sir.”
“Then you’ll have to pay me back in… other ways.” Phil grabs the handkerchief, his hand softy grazing Missa’s.
His heart leaps, “Ye-Yeah of course sir, anything you need. I can wash it out for you, it can be done by tonight!”
Phil smiles, “No need, I have business to attend to. But if you’re free tomorrow, maybe you can show me how.”
Missa’s breath hitched. No matter how nice it the Angel of Death made it sound, he knew he didn’t have a choice. Fearing his voice would betray him he just nodded.
“Then it’s settled. See you soon Missa.” Phil patted down the flower he had given Missa and looked him in the eyes once more. He was… studying him, Missa thinks. Slowly, they broke apart and Phil made his way down the stairs and into the car.
Missa let out the breath he was holding and nearly collapsed. A la puta madre, he was in deep shit.