To say that after everything, Peter was still on edge would be a slight understatement. Not only had he not left his penthouse the entire week but he'd also put his shows on hiatus because of a 'stomach bug' and taken to sleeping in his panic room. It was nice, he'd dragged a mattress in and a TV, it was a much safer place to sleep.
After all, he could still feel an echo of the pain he'd experience from that strange man with his face. He didn't need to be caught out again.
It was only when his tour manager had threatened to sue him for breaching his contract and not coming to work that finally Peter decided to venture outside. Build up a little steam and get used to being near people again. So, naturally, he opted for a little field trip. To a bar.
Sitting at a table at the back to avoid anyone who'd recognise him, Peter knocked back another Midori and slumped a little. Maybe he'd just hallucinated it?
Keeping an eye on someone as a wizard of his caliber, not to mention his experience as a spy, was ridiculously easy. Not exactly much effort, not that he'd have put in much effort if it had been. Peter was hardly worth that.
But he had some time on his hands and he liked to have fun, never mind what some people might think of the ways he chose to have fun. As it was he ended up just sitting down next to Peter, some magic making sure he'd not draw much attention from anyone else. He didn't need that.
The yelp that Peter let out was not the most manly as he jumped out of his skin, nearly spilling his drink down himself. Oh no. This was not a good day. First he was bullied out of his panic room to be social and now he was being approached by that psycho who tortured him.
On the plus side, he was thinly layered today so if he was made to strip, he'd have less clothes to steal back.
"Wh-What?" Yes, an elegant response but what was he supposed to do? Could he just run away? -- Surely he could? This was an open public bar, he was allowed to leave.
"Buy me a drink? I'm short on... Your kind of money. Dollar? Right. Dollar." Barty did pay attention to muggle stuff insofar as it pertained to him, but sometimes it could get confusing. A different world, after all. He sat very relaxed, hands empty, because he still kept his wand tucked away.
"What are you drinking? I'll have one of those." He looked up, catching Peter's eyes. "Please." Manners. He'd always had those.
Awkwardly, Peter nodded, pulling out his wallet and nervously raiding it for change. He pulled out a nice sized wad of cash and when one of the waitress came by, Peter offered it all over with an awkward smile. "The usual times two, please. Just keep them coming? -- Actually, just bring the bottles over."
Peter was definitely going to need at least a bottle to himself. As the waitress went off to get their drinks, Peter swiftly downed all of his, putting the glass back down with an unsure frown on his face. "What do you want? Why are you here?"
"Probably the same reason you're here. To relax and have a drink. The main difference is probably that you started out more tense and that you'll end up more drunk, but it's about the same otherwise." Barty watched him with quiet amusement, the tip of his tongue running along his lower lip.
"At first I just wanted to drop by your house, since you did that to me, but then I reasoned that I should be more polite than you."
Peter dropped his head into his hand, burrowing his forehead into his palm with clear frustration. Great now he had some sort of clone lookalike staler who could probably kill him seconds clearly stalking him. Right, soon as he got him, he was getting right into the panic room again. And not leaving. Fuck his contract, he didn't need a job. He just needed to make his panic room nicer.
As soon as the bottles were brought over, Peter picked up his own, pulling it almost protectively close to him. "Why do you need to drop by? Don't you have somewhere to be? Like that death cult? People to sacrifice and spells to cast. I'm beyond unimportant, why bother?"
"There's not much happening right now. Well, actually a lot is happening, but it's all rather hidden and I prefer to stay out of it while the vermin fights." Barty shrugged and reached for the bottle, ending up pouring it into Peter's glass before taking a sip. "Besides, I like your company. You're entertaining and ever so nice to look at. There aren't that many people in this world that I can stand to have around voluntarily."
Peter didn't even bother with his glass, he just sipped right from his own bottle, eye on Barty with mistrust because why did he have to be the one that Barty wanted to bother? Surely it was a ploy? Or a plot. Maybe he was here to lure him into a death or something? Those sadists were probably still out there. But hey, at least if he was taken hostage or killed here, he had witnesses. Or at least camera footage. "I get this face is a pleaser, really do. And I'm honoured but, erm, kind of hoping you were going to just leave me alone now. No offence it's just -- well, you did nearly rip me apart last time. And it still fucking hurts."
"Still? Merlin, you're sensitive." There wasn't any pity, much less concern, but he reached out to pat his shoulder anyway. Probably largely to freak him out. Barty turned the glass in his hand. "Quite good. You have excellent taste." He considered, looking back at Peter. "Well, in drink. Otherwise it's a bit gaudy, I suppose, but you'd fit right in with the tastes of some wizards I know." Whatever one might make of that. Barty didn't intend it as a compliment, but he rarely paid any compliments. "I think you were hoping in vain, Peter. I only left you alive for my entertainment."
"Oh I'm sorry I didn't get over the torture quick enough," Okay so it didn't really still hurt, he just felt cramped up sometimes and he blamed the spell for it. After all, it was probably the most pain he'd ever been in. And that included the truly horrendous hang over of 1997. Nodding, Peter poured a bit more into his glass to top it up before taking a much needed gulp. The more he drank, the less likely he was to piss himself in fear.
Especially when Barty touched him. Jesus, he hated when that psycho touched him. "I did kind of guess you were playing some kind of game but can you not? I mean I can pay you off," Peter swiftly pulled out his wallet and started to empty onto the table, from credit cards to notes and even a few condoms. Wellllll, always be prepared. "I'll give you all of that if you piss off forever."
For a while Barty just watched him, but then he pulled out a pouch from an inside pocket and opened it, holding it open for Peter to see inside. Bigger on the inside, definitely. He pulled out one of the coins and handed it to Peter. "Our currency. Real gold. I'm not the richest wizard around, but the richest wizards are scared of me. I don't need your money." Not that he had any objection to Peter paying for his drink. He emptied the glass and refilled it, leaning back in his seat as he put the pouch away again.
"Besides, from what I recall you still have an open offer going. Or did you take that back? After you told me what a good shag you are."
Peter stared dumbly at the solid gold coin, spinning it around in his hand before gripping it tight in his hand. Well. Shit. Slumping back, he left the contents of his wallet on the table and closed his eyes, after if he could block Barty out or something. This wasn't going to end till one of them died, this creep seemed like the kind who would stick around to make a point if anything.
"I take it back," Peter muttered stubbornly as he twirled the coin in his hand once more. He flicked it into the air and, with a little slight of hand, made it disappear when he caught it. Like Barty was getting that back, he could at least cash it in somehow before he was killed by this loon. "No matter how good I look, even I have fucking limits."
"Do you? So do I. it's supposed to be only purebloods, really, but to be honest I can't stand most of them. Also they all get married as soon as possible." A fate he had escaped under unfortunate circumstances, but at least that part he definitely didn't regret. It gave him a lot of freedom these days. "But there we go then. I like a challenge. And I'd not force you, don't worry. This part is more exciting anyway."
Peter picked up his glass and paused, a curious look on his face. The chase and game were fun? So when he got what he wanted, would he piss off? Finishing up what was in the glass, he started to pour himself another. He was definitely going to need it. "So what? If I fucked you, would you leave me alone? I mean that's the end goal, isn't it? What else could you want? I'm for fuck sake, you said it yourself. I'm a coward. I've got nothing you want."
"We'll see, won't we? I expect I'll grow bored with you eventually." Barty leaned forward for a closer look at Peter, reaching out to comb some of his hair back from his face. Of course that was mainly just to freak Peter out, but... Well, it worked. "Then I'll either kill you or leave you alive. We'll see, won't we?"
He held his hand out. "Give me your phone. I want to save my number in it." He was still learning such things, but that's why he took the opportunity to practice.
Peter swallowed hard, bravely resisting the urge to cry out in fear because yes, he was a proper grown up who totally wasn't afraid of the magical psychopath who could probably steal his freewill, his memories and his life. Once again, his glass was half emptied in a second, just to get enough courage to pull free his phone and offer it out to Barty.
Why resist? It was fine anyway, he didn't have to take his phone into the panic room. He could just lock it away forever. "You don't have to kill me," Peter offered in vain, knowing how pathetic that really sounded. "It's not worth it. I'll probably kill my liver in a few years anyway. Then it's just a waiting game till I snuff it."
"Oh, sure. But I only like waiting games when I start them." Barty was typing on the phone, his tongue peeking out as he concentrated. Technology was still something that he had trouble grasping, but he'd always been a fast learner and knowledge was power. "Bartemius. That's me. Do you have any games on this?" He was already looking for them, only glancing at Peter for a moment.
"Don't worry. I don't plan on killing you. I don't even plan on hurting you. Unless you give me reason to or I'm seriously lacking in other entertainment. Which reminds me, Peter, when is your next show?"
"Bartemius?" That was a weird name. But at least he finally had a name to a face as only he'd been forced to give up his name last time. Pulling together his wallet contents, he started to slot them back into place, eyeing his phone to make sure it wasn't magicked into nowhere. "I have a few. Take a look, have a play. You may as well."
It was said with a level of frustration but he was basically in a position where Barty could walk all over him. Because if he did something wrong then Barty was going to hurt him. And he really didn't need that. "Next -- what? Why do you want to come to that? Like you said, phony. It's just bullshit," Peter remarked as he finished off his glass and set it down. "I guess I'm back on tomorrow. I skipped a week so I've got to get my arse back into gear."
"Barty works, too. I hate the name, but it's more bearable these days." Since he had ensured he was the only one alive carrying it. He was playing on Peter's phone, training his reflexes as he replied to Peter. Multitasking had never really been a problem for him at all.
"Because it sounds like fun. I've never really seen pretend-magic. Real magic, sure, I can show you more of that too if you'd like." He paused for a moment, then glanced over the phone at Peter. "The kind that doesn't hurt you. Promise. But I want to see more of yours. Especially if it has you wearing those ridiculous tattoos. Very..." Pathetic, odd... "Fetching."
At the mention of magic, it was pretty obvious how Peter felt about that. It just sent him back to being on the floor, bound and screaming, and he couldn't even imagine magic not hurting. He slid down in the chair, as if trying to get out of Barty's eyeline and presence. He didn't want to be paralysed or tortured or like turned into a frog!
"You want to come, don't you?" Peter knew he was going to come no matter what he did so he simply exhaled slightly and pulled his bottle closer to himself, ready to be there for all the harder moments. "I suppose you can have a ticket but just don't kill anyone. Or me. Definitely don't kill me. And just remember, it's bullshit, right? It's fucking lies and basically just me dicking around on stage for two hours." But hey, it paid for their booze so who could complain?
"Excellent." Barty put the phone down and slid it over toward Peter. "Just send me the details then. And don't forget."
With that he got up, stopping next to Peter with a hand on his shoulder. He leaned down and kissed him, just like that. Not for long, but much more than casual, although the kiss stayed soft, gentle. "Take care, darling. I want to see you dicking around on stage."
Peter just had no idea how to react to that. He sat there, like a deer in the highlights, still cradling his booze close. What was even happening? Last week it had been all pain and violence and now he was getting kisses. And weird not quite fanboying of his stage show.
Peter nodded and proceeded to slid down even lower, nearly half under the table. "Yeah, yeah, I'll remember."
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After all, he could still feel an echo of the pain he'd experience from that strange man with his face. He didn't need to be caught out again.
It was only when his tour manager had threatened to sue him for breaching his contract and not coming to work that finally Peter decided to venture outside. Build up a little steam and get used to being near people again. So, naturally, he opted for a little field trip. To a bar.
Sitting at a table at the back to avoid anyone who'd recognise him, Peter knocked back another Midori and slumped a little. Maybe he'd just hallucinated it?
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But he had some time on his hands and he liked to have fun, never mind what some people might think of the ways he chose to have fun. As it was he ended up just sitting down next to Peter, some magic making sure he'd not draw much attention from anyone else. He didn't need that.
"Hey, Peter. What a surprise."
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On the plus side, he was thinly layered today so if he was made to strip, he'd have less clothes to steal back.
"Wh-What?" Yes, an elegant response but what was he supposed to do? Could he just run away? -- Surely he could? This was an open public bar, he was allowed to leave.
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"What are you drinking? I'll have one of those." He looked up, catching Peter's eyes. "Please." Manners. He'd always had those.
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Peter was definitely going to need at least a bottle to himself. As the waitress went off to get their drinks, Peter swiftly downed all of his, putting the glass back down with an unsure frown on his face. "What do you want? Why are you here?"
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"At first I just wanted to drop by your house, since you did that to me, but then I reasoned that I should be more polite than you."
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As soon as the bottles were brought over, Peter picked up his own, pulling it almost protectively close to him. "Why do you need to drop by? Don't you have somewhere to be? Like that death cult? People to sacrifice and spells to cast. I'm beyond unimportant, why bother?"
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Especially when Barty touched him. Jesus, he hated when that psycho touched him. "I did kind of guess you were playing some kind of game but can you not? I mean I can pay you off," Peter swiftly pulled out his wallet and started to empty onto the table, from credit cards to notes and even a few condoms. Wellllll, always be prepared. "I'll give you all of that if you piss off forever."
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"Besides, from what I recall you still have an open offer going. Or did you take that back? After you told me what a good shag you are."
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"I take it back," Peter muttered stubbornly as he twirled the coin in his hand once more. He flicked it into the air and, with a little slight of hand, made it disappear when he caught it. Like Barty was getting that back, he could at least cash it in somehow before he was killed by this loon. "No matter how good I look, even I have fucking limits."
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He knocked his drink back. "All about the chase."
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So what did he have to do to get rid of him?
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He held his hand out. "Give me your phone. I want to save my number in it." He was still learning such things, but that's why he took the opportunity to practice.
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Why resist? It was fine anyway, he didn't have to take his phone into the panic room. He could just lock it away forever. "You don't have to kill me," Peter offered in vain, knowing how pathetic that really sounded. "It's not worth it. I'll probably kill my liver in a few years anyway. Then it's just a waiting game till I snuff it."
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"Don't worry. I don't plan on killing you. I don't even plan on hurting you. Unless you give me reason to or I'm seriously lacking in other entertainment. Which reminds me, Peter, when is your next show?"
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It was said with a level of frustration but he was basically in a position where Barty could walk all over him. Because if he did something wrong then Barty was going to hurt him. And he really didn't need that. "Next -- what? Why do you want to come to that? Like you said, phony. It's just bullshit," Peter remarked as he finished off his glass and set it down. "I guess I'm back on tomorrow. I skipped a week so I've got to get my arse back into gear."
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"Because it sounds like fun. I've never really seen pretend-magic. Real magic, sure, I can show you more of that too if you'd like." He paused for a moment, then glanced over the phone at Peter. "The kind that doesn't hurt you. Promise. But I want to see more of yours. Especially if it has you wearing those ridiculous tattoos. Very..." Pathetic, odd... "Fetching."
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"You want to come, don't you?" Peter knew he was going to come no matter what he did so he simply exhaled slightly and pulled his bottle closer to himself, ready to be there for all the harder moments. "I suppose you can have a ticket but just don't kill anyone. Or me. Definitely don't kill me. And just remember, it's bullshit, right? It's fucking lies and basically just me dicking around on stage for two hours." But hey, it paid for their booze so who could complain?
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With that he got up, stopping next to Peter with a hand on his shoulder. He leaned down and kissed him, just like that. Not for long, but much more than casual, although the kiss stayed soft, gentle. "Take care, darling. I want to see you dicking around on stage."
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Peter nodded and proceeded to slid down even lower, nearly half under the table. "Yeah, yeah, I'll remember."