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It isn't unusual for Billy to take on a extra job.
Even if this one is…stranger then he first thought.
He flickers his gaze towards the back of the white room, and it lingers onto the chained figure hunched over there. The figure doesn't move a muscle from what he can see, except for the slight rise and fall of his chest and the twitching of the others wings.
For a moment, Billy swears he sees the other man's face turns toward him as the other shifts in place. Pale golden eyes staring intently at him through the mess of long, unkempt brown hair before turning away to look at the ground.
He hears a wet, pained breath leave the other as he stares at him for a few moments longer before returning to his dagger. He slides it against the grindstone as the silence echos between them.
It's a simple guarding job.
Not his favorite type of jobs, he'll admit, but this one was hard to pass up given that it…comes with a lot of benefits.
Especially since he's lower on supplies after he had to deal with Theo.
His jaw tightens.
Fucking Theo, his thoughts his as he examines the dagger now, holding it up to the light, before huffing as he slides it against the grindstone again. Can't believe he managed to catch me off guard…
It angers him to no end to recall it.
A slight wince escapes him when he rolls his neck, his teeth gritting together, as a sharp pain races down his spine at the small action.
He's still not even completely recovered from the altercation…has he really grown that weak?
Billy's eyes flicker over to the other avian.
No, at least he's not caged like that one.
He's not some pet like him.
Something eases in him when he thinks that.
It's enough that it lets him return to that same repetitive task of sharpening his blade, something he stopped when that nasty thought plagued him, and hums quietly to himself.
Maybe the fact that this is a easy job is a blessing in disguise, he muses, given that all he has to do is sit here and make sure that this one doesn't escape.
Not like he could with those chains wrapped around his small, slight form in all honesty. Billy understands that his kind are considered… collectibles in many ways, but he's never seen something as excessive as this right here.
Really, he doesn't understand why his employer is taking such excessive precautions when the little bird here is already so broken—
Footsteps.
He hears the soft echo of footsteps coming closer towards the room.
The avian stares at the door—the only way in or out of here—in anticipation, almost giddy, and he only slightly turns his gaze towards the chained bird to see him actually staring at the door as well.
For a second, the look in his eyes has Billy still before he's shaken from that by the door being unlocked.
A slight shiver runs down his spine before he straightens himself, turning to look at the door, and hears the soft click before it's opened to reveal his employer.
The man's gaze is a cold balm against his soul as his blank gaze stares at him like he's nothing more then a feature of the wall.
Billy inclines his head to him and the dog hybrid does so back before his gaze stops on the avian. Something flickers in his gaze that he can't quite place, before he shifts back his expression to Billy.
"Did he behave himself?" Those words make him want to snort.
"Barely moved a muscle," he replies dryly as he leans back into his seat. "Thought he was dead when I came in here—"
"I only wanted to know if he behaved himself, Butcher." Billy almost feels flattered by how vitriol the other man's words are. "I know he wouldn't be dead now unless you fucked up."
Touche, he barely said a word and this man is so easily set off.
It's almost funny, almost makes him tempted to push him more to see what else sets him off…
But the gear, equipment and supplies he needs make him hold his tongue.
"But I didn't," his words are smooth as he gives the man a smile. "Kept him safe, monitored him—as you requested—and even gave him water when he needed it, Wifies. You can't say I didn't do my due diligence there."
He would let his eye twitch at the look at contempt he's given and the dismissive sound he's given for his words.
What a bitch.
"I suppose," The other man hums and Billy can't help the annoyed sound that leaves his lips at those words. "Nobody came at all?"
The man doesn't even turn to look at him as he crosses the distance towards the other, a sharp smile on his face that Billy wouldn't try to call tender with how it looks.
"No one," he shakes his head and watches as the man, Wifies, bends down to kneel before the chained figure. "Pretty quiet in all honesty."
"Good," the man cradles the avian's face and Billy is able to have a better look at his face, how pale he looks and how his…his eyes are dead. "Hello, my lovely Parrot."
Parrot? He thinks he's heard that name somewhere but he can't place it.
"Fuck you," the other, Parrot, croaks as he tries to lean away from the dog hybrids hands.
"I missed you too," Wifies, who's more delusional then Billy first thought, whispers as he traces the other avian's cheek. "Did the Butcher treat you well? He didn't hurt you, did he? Did he hurt my poor mate?"
Mate.
That's…
He keeps quiet as he watches…whatever this is.
"Or did you hurt yourself again?" the man asks once again, as the other avian refuses to speak and keeps turning his head away from the hybrid. "My poor mate, you shouldn't be doing that! You know how upset it makes me—"
Something turns in his stomach at the sight of the dog hybrid pushing closer into the other's space, not letting him have a single moment to breath, and it makes him awkwardly shuffle in place.
"Stay mad then," the other spits out. "and maybe fucking die as well. You'd be doing me a massive favor if you did."
A slight hum escapes him when he hears that.
"You don't mean that," the dog presses on. "You love me—I'm your best friend."
"You were my best friend—ack!" a sharp slap rings out in the small space.
The silence that follows is deafening.
It makes Billy shuffle from side to side as he watches how the composed Wifies is now breathing heavily, each breath loudly echoing in the room, while Parrot glares at him with defiance.
The one thing that he can note is that the smaller avian's head is tilted up, softer and quieter with his own pained breath, almost like this won't break him. It's almost impressive to the bigger bird with how he's refusing to bend to the dog's will.
"I hate you," the words would've been a blow to anyone else, he suspects, except to Wifies here it seems. "I have never hated someone as much as I hate you and I only wish the worse upon you now."
"I know better," the other starts, and Billy thinks it might be time to interrupt this conversation.
He takes a deep breath as he unfolds his arms and rolls his shoulders, thinking it's better to pull the band-aid off now before whatever speech the dog will say will devolve into a argument or fight.
"You paying me now?" he twitches as they both turn to stare at him and he huffs, tapping his foot on the floor. "What? Unless you want me to see you go at it—"
"You don't get to watch us," he can see the disgust that crosses Parrots face when Wifies tries to kiss him before the man is denied with him leaning away. Can see how the dog's gaze darkens for a moment before he looks back at Billy. "…down the hall, on the left is a room with two shulkers that I've set up for you."
There's a weight pressing into his shoulders. He nods anyway, inclines his head in thanks, before he turns on his heel and heads off, following the man's directions.
Maybe he should charge extra if he gets involved into couples drama—well, one-sided couple drama at that.
He shakes his head.
It doesn't matter now.
Much later when he's gotten away and back to the inn he's been staying at, he'll look in the mirror and stare at himself.
Stare at each and every mark he has on his body—from failed tnt carts, knicks from arrows and swords—before he'll look at his eyes.
Those same dark, dead eyes that he's grown comfortable in seeing staring back at him and be reminded of the chained up man.
He'll think of that pale skin, those dark circles under his eyes and that underfed form but he'll remember the other's eyes.
Those golden, dead eyes like his own.