-The Lions Den- [Closed]

"I've been walking this path by my lonesome for quite some time now, Olivia. Same shit different day to me. But you know, the climb to the top is a lonely one, so i'll find companionship when i'm rotting away in hell."

A mental retort to the very kind offering from Olivia. But this was a path Juelz had to traverse alone despite secretly wanting to ask for some much needed aid. Not the traditional kind of aid—any kind of punishment dished out would be met with a stalwart resolve not even a Russian warhead could rattle. He needed moral support, someone he could seek refugee in when The Underworld drove him on the edge of insanity, which happens more often than not. He needed a shoulder, someone to remind him he was still a kid... Still a human and not just some product of cutthroat mafioso creed.

But to ask for help was the ultimate sign of weakness to Moore men and their code...

The thought was nice—just having Olivia around to have all sorts of crazy misadventures. But that thought would remain a thought locked up in the reinforced caged of his psyche to never see the light of day again.

"What was going on between me and Quinn was strictly business. Business and I go hand in hand, I ain't done with Quinn and Quinn ain't done with me. Only a matter of time before we cross paths again and brush this little "misunderstanding" under the rug."

Truth be told, he knew exactly how to handle a man of Quinn's stature and position. Sure, he'd more than likely be looking for a way to humiliate Juelz in front of all the other Big Players of The Underworld. But Juelz' thick skin and steel resolve would never falter that easy if it came to something that petty. But he was already prepared for it in that regard. However the dealings with his father and potentially Olivia's father was a different matter in itself.

"I'd do it again too, Olivia. I don't give a fuck. Ain't no fucker in this world going to get away with putting their hands on you while I'm around, you got that?"

A deep breath was taken in attempt to cool bubbling blood.

"But I have to handle this on my own. Understand that, alright? Tch, if you insist on throwing yourself into the mouth of the lion. Just be there when I call you for some video-games."

Driving a little further down the road leading outside of the city. Juelz came to a slow crawl as he pulled up to a homely looking little house—with the white picket fence and all. Golden eyes bestowed on the redhead as a shaking head with a faint smirk followed soon afterwards. That Zazu comment didn't fall on deaf ears and the charming smirk proved it. The majordomo Zazu, the bird who loved to run his beak in some way, shape, or form.

"Fuck Zazu. But what do you want to know? We're here, by the way."

Departing from the drivers-side, he'd stroll over to the passenger-side and open the door for Olivia so she can get out a little easier.

Out the corner of his eyes, Juelz witnessed Olivia take it upon herself to exit the vehicle without any further assistance—heh, still stubborn as ever. Her somewhat cautious movements and grimace went noticed, but Juelz had no desire in raining on her "big girl" parade. If Olivia really found it important to keep up the "tough girl" act, so be it—she's a feisty one, she'll be a'ight. He gave no outward response to the display other than a mild change of direction. Instead of heading for the passenger-side, he was now heading for the front door of the abode. He didn't even try to play it off either, he simply just shifted courses like a subtle tide and left it at that.

The cocaine enthusiast found it impossible to avert his gaze from the "exposed" frame of Olivia. He admired her figure for a fraction of a second before pressing onward while adjusting his soaked tie. If she was anyone else—any ole'random broad from any ole' random place. He would have made his desire and lust clear from the get-go. But this is Olivia, can he even see her as anything more than a friend? The thought never once crossed his mind, yet here he was instinctively "checking" her out, if only a peek. The peek could quite possibly be fueled by his yearning for an temporary escape from all the bullshit associated with The Underworld. He typically gets this "temporary escape" in the form of sexual activity; a lot of it; like a lot; i'm dead ass serious here. Olivia fit the bill but he'd never act on such raw impulse. He was doing a good job containing himself thus far, so maybe Olivia's beauty was just another reminder for him to find some time to relax and blow off some steam.

She commented on the house with a morphed smirk.

"Yup, the American dream."

He replied with furrowed brows of his own as he noted the smirk and playful shoulder nudge. The wrinkle in his brows deepened as she continued to speak, asking about a special lady with another playful gesture. He had half a mind to hit her with a Pimp mentality—let her know how little of value he actually holds the women he fools around with. But this is Juelz Santana, he holds everyone at a value less than dirt, so there should be no real surprise if he had the opportunity to respond. Though before he could answer, Olivia; being an unlucky doofus, managed to snap her boot heel and fall upon the hood of the car, in the process, taking Juelz down with her... He tried to keep his balance and all that good jazz, but it all happened so fast... He found himself victim to another misadventure staring Olivia with himself as co-host.

He rested firmly above her, one hand placed against the hood of the car to keep himself from falling on top of her wounded body as the other gripped the side of her hip to keep her stable so he doesn't collapse on top of her. He fixed a harden gaze upon the laughing visage of Olivia as she spoke almost mid-laughter. Her words caused a subtle smile to creep on the corners of his lips. He too remembered those violent yet playful days and he honestly missed them.

"Well we aren't kids anymore, Olivia. We both have grown-"

Thump. Thump. Thump. That urge was clawing at the constraints...

"--Fuck."

He picked himself up and took a step back—y'boy almost took that plunge, almost.

"Lets get inside. It's starting to get cold as fuck."

Olivia sounded a tad bit upset with how he handle the moment on the hood. He gave a subtle smile, humored her a bit, then spoke truth—pft, she ain't have no reason to be upset! But what gave her the impression he was throwing away what little they still had under the window? They had their little moment and he honestly appreciated for what it was and the significance behind said moment. But he was cold and damp from the little "adventure" in the rain—he wasn't trying to stay in this chilly as weather, yo! Alongside the fact his mind slowly began wandering off elsewhere the very moment he glanced at the half-naked and curvaceous frame of Olivia, being pinned on top of her with primal urges and thoughts clawing at the front door wasn't such a great idea.

"It isn't like that Olivia, you should have realized at least that much by now, damn. Listen, I'm not the same little brat you knew years ago. Shit happens, people come and go, and people change to fit their surroundings. It's survival of the fittest out here in these streets and i've been thriving in this jungle for quite some time now."

He paused for a moment, attempting to let the words he just spoke stew like a finally cooked broth so the flavors can "pop". It was obvious in his demeanor he was no longer the same guy she knew. He had this aura about him, an aura that made him seem superior yet very humble at the same time. Back in the day his actions and words went hand in hand—a punch followed by a insult meant exactly what one thought it was. But now, being a Kingpin on a type of conquest. The world is much more black-and-white to the cocaine enthusiast and some growing up he did. He can't afford to drop his guard to much because the vultures are always soaring underneath the clouds looking for their next easy meal. Being this newly molded product of The Underworld, everything he does, everyone he associates with, and those that become enemies of his slowly growing empire know he is always planning for his next big move. But Olivia brought to the surface the "old" Juelz while the "new" Juelz tried to keep control over the situation. When he said one thing, the actions followed may mean something completely different in their own little way. Almost as if the two halves were fighting for superiority. But which side would win...?

"My goal is still to be king and i'm going to rule it all one day. I'm just not some obnoxious little shit about it anymore hiding behind my ignorance."

Making his way to the front door of the abode, he simply twisted the knob and the door swung open. It was left unlocked for this exact reason and it was pretty obvious to Juelz Mr. Makunouchi departed mere minutes before their arrival.

As he entered there wasn't a single ounce of doubt in his mind Olivia would not follow behind him. So, once she entered, he'd close and lock the door before heading towards the master bedroom.

"Pretty sure there's some fresh clothes back here."

He gestured for Olivia to follow him as he strolled down the spotless and fluffy carpet. Walking through the one-level house, it was pretty obvious to see this humble abode was no more than the ultimate "Chill Spot". Paintings of actors and actresses littered the walls as a massive liquor cabinet hug up against the wall right across the kitchen which also functioned as a mini-bar.

"Master bedroom to your left. You can change and whatever in there. I'm going to handle my business in the bathroom, so you do what you do."

Chopping up a somewhat lazy and crocked peace sign. He made his way into the bathroom and began to strip from wet and soggy clothing.

「 music 」, a tranquil rhythm poured from the expensive dock station the very instant he entered the bathroom. Motion censored lights lit up the extravagant washroom instantly as he began disrobing himself. He started with his torso, throwing many article of wet clothing by his side without a single care in the world. With his upper body completely exposed, he glanced at himself in the massive mirror while unbuckling the very belt that kept his slack firmly above his waist. Tattoos covered both arms to make a one of kind piece of art. Dragons, lions, turtles, and other creatures traveled up and down each arm—Yakuza in nature, but not quite. A little more "urban-esque" if you will. The Kingpin exhaled a sigh as he pulled the leather belt through the first loop, followed by the next loop, followed by the third loop. However, Olivia's stubborn ways interrupted the sequence and she was met with a less than stellar glare.

""What? Tch, did you even take the time to look or are you just jumping to stupid ass conclusions?"

He continued to tug at the belt, this time at a much slower pace—similar to how a father would right before spanking their child. How dare she jump to such conclusions! Did she really think he'd have her wear hand me down clothes? Washed or not that shit was foul, disrespectful, and not to mention disgusting. Everything in the master bedroom was new, from the knickers to the bras; everything. But if she really felt booty tickled about rocking hand-me-downs, she was more than welcome in wearing Juelz' stuff. But oh wait! She didn't even take the time to examine the wide assortment of items in the dressers or closet! ...Dofus! With the belt finally removed, he couldn't help but cock a brow at the subtle gesture of Olivia—Oh, this how the game is being played now? A'ight 'den.

Unbuttoning the fabric of the slacks, his eyes dipped down to the two pieces separating very very slowly. Picking his eyes up back on hers, he relived the the black waistline of his briefs before bestowing Olivia with a faint smirk. He knew she was just being her goofy self, but her actions still caused his "masculinity" to rear its ugly head, if only a little. He was the one who got the first glance, never the other way around. The future king is the presentee, not the presenter. Fair is fair, yes. But this is just how the game is played. If the presenter dosen't like it, she is going to learn to like it—get enticed to take the leap he ensures she most defiantly wont regret. Standing tall, becoming a little more "imposing" minus the cocky smirk that graced his mug. He spoke, tone playful yet sultry to match the mood set by Olivia.

"After you."

Minimal words of challenge as golden orbs examined her exposed body in perfect lighting.

"Damn."

There is goes again. That clawing.

That smug grin grew a bit more smug as Olivia began swaying to the music playing. The boy greedily eyed those swaying hips with a half-sarcastic nod of approval. Golden eyes drifted to the exposed ink on the back of the girl—That same Phoenix he saw beforehand with the "misunderstanding" with Quinn. A smirk which turned into a fond grin greeted the exposed tattoo as the exotic "show" came to an abrupt in. Olivia reached for the nearest towel before heading back off to the master bedroom. As she did, ears twitched upon hearing the question from the girl.

"No."

Of course he was just being a little shit, hopefully she caught to the not-so-apparent playful nature of the young heir. She didn't even close the damn door! No worries, disrobing himself from slacks, dress shoes, and soggy socks. Juelz only rocked black polo boxer briefs. With Olivia off doing what she did in the kitchen, amble steps carried him off to the master bedroom where he fetched a tank and a pair of coozy sweats—he even threw on a pair of ankle socks with Nike house slippers. Once he was fully dressed for homey happenings, Juelz departed from the bedroom and passed the washroom as he headed for the family room. Upon passing the washroom the lights switched themselves off and the dock went into standby mood. Though the wet cloths still remained on the floor, he'd just take care of that mini-mess later.

"Help yourself. Thanks for asking."

He commented as golden orbs watched her work her cooking magic in the kitchen. Not like he minded in the grand scheme of things. It was how she went about it that made him feel a little uneasy. He had questions, but he wasn't the type of person to press on them especially in a "sensitivity" moment such as this. He wanted to make sure she was okay, he wanted to ask her where she was, and, more importantly, he wanted to know why. But right now know of that mattered because all he wanted to do was make her feel welcomed, safe, and wanted.

His phone rung...

Snatching it off the counter top, he glanced at the screen and recognized the contact name.

"You make a mess, you clean it up. Capisce?"

A glare was sent in the general direction of Olivia as slow steps carried the frame of Juelz to the backyard to take this call in "private". Sliding open the sliding door, he'd step on the porch while gently closing it behind him. Just in case Olivia developed the ability to read lips or certain mannerisms while she was gone, he'd step outside of view of the sliding door and answer his smartphone.

"Yo?"
"Uh... Soooo about that little meeting with Quinn..."

Juelz chuckled, nothing but annoyance coating the laugh.

"Words sure do travel fast. Fucker snitched sooner than I anticipated. What about it?"
"Well, uh, you see... I just got a call from your daddy and..."

He braced himself by leaning up against the wall of the house.

"He's going to pay me a little visit, huh?"
"B-I-N-G-O, bro."
"When should I expect him?""
"He said you can pick the time and place."
"A'ight then. He knows where I reside, if he wants to chit-chat he can catch me at the manor."
"Yeeeeah... He figured you'd say that so he'll be around when he be around. Just quoting your old man here, don't kill me, boss..."
"All good. It is what it is. He shows when he shows, no sweat off my sack."
"Alright, man... Just thought I'd let you know A-S-A-P... You remember last time, yeah? Half our squad got fuc-."

Juelz interrupted.

"Much appreciated. That it?"
"Y-yeah... Wait, where are yooooou at? What are yooooou doing?"
"Relaxing."
"Psh, you gettin' some ass, huh?"
"Some shit like that."
"Then I'll let you go. Hey, take care of yourself, Santana."
"Got it."

*beep beep*

He sighed, eyes closed, mood now very sour. He expected Quinn to say something... But not this soon. And for his own father to take matters into his own hands? This was going to be one encounter he wouldn't forget anytime soon. He dragged his backside down the wall until he was sitting on his butt. Adjusting both of his hands through those ivory locks of his, he recalled the last time he had a "meeting" with his father. Such horrors should remain unspoken...

"Fuck..."

Now wasn't the time—homeboy had a cutie whipping something up to eat and he needed to act accordingly! Getting to his feet, he dusted his butt off before heading back inside, doing a very crappy job in hiding his displeasure. He didn't even look at Olivia upon his return. Instead, he simply trudged towards the Lazy Boy recliner chair, plopped down within its softness, and began surfing through Netflix.

The mundane surfing through Netflix categories had the same potent effect as most hardcore drugs—that shit was addicting as fuck! Well, maybe not consider an "addiction"—more like a mild case of masochism. Going through Netflix more or less left the viewer with the same results. These results being absolutely nothing new to watch if one has already seen it through their previous masochism induced surfing. Besides the new use of Netflix commonly associated with sexual active youth, the same programs, episodes, and movies await time and time again; like some screwed up nightmare waking up from seems nay impossible. And that is exactly what Juelz did despite knowing not a single thing changed or was added to the catalog. Truth be told, the surfing was more or less on reflex and a potential way to keep his mind busy and off the call he just received. Sure, the actions weren't working and he felt himself falling deeper and deeper into thought. But at least he was containing that festering and bubbling pool of mixed emotions stewing in the deepest darkest corridor of his soul. Hell, he didn't even smell the cinnamon cakes that unknowingly made his stomach roar in hunger. Yes, he was that deep in thought.

Well, he was until those blurry eyes of his caught the visage of Olivia, the upside down and duck-faced visage of the girl. It took a few seconds of him glaring at her before he realized what she was even doing. With furrowed brows he blinked two times in quick session to make sure he wasn't just seeing some weird shit—yip, she was totally doing some weird shit. He felt no need to dignify her little pet name with a response. Instead he grimaced at the "cute" little nose nuzzle followed directly with a sucking teeth of displeasure. Funny how they both sucked their teeth at the same time due to displeasure of some sort. Ironic? Heh, I think not!

When Olivia placed the plate in his lap, honey kissed orbs examined the miniature tower of spiced flapjacks and perfectly prepared bacon. He took extra attention on the makeshift smiley face constructed out of what smelled and looked like whip-cream. It was a simple meal that took no longer than 30 minutes to make. But the "vibe" behind it tickled him softly. The minimal labor wasn't important, it was about the thought; the thought mattered and went noticed by the grumpy teenager. Having females cook for him was no rare feat—y'boy gotta' eat somehow, right?! But consuming a meal forged by the hands of one he actually cared about? Yeah, that was rare... And seemed to be on the verge of happening this very moment.

A half-assed grin was given in attempt to match the one on the flapjacks, but a grin nonetheless.

"This is good enough, thanks."

He said in retort, declining yet another drink offer. Juelz watched her stroll off from the corner of his eyes. When she was out of vision, he focused back on the flapjacks at hand. Grabbing the fork in his right and the knife in his left, he cut the pancakes in eatable little squares. Olivia returned with a glass of orange juice for herself and sat on the armrest as he continued to cut with uninspired gusto.

Then she spoke... Man, she had to mention the phone call, huh? Tch, shithead... Juelz finished up the cutting and placed the knife back upon the plate. Not really in the mood to eat just yet, the fork in his grip weaved and maneuvered through his fingers in a display of great finger dexterity.

Juelz Santana was a truthful man—the kind of man who always seemed to be telling the truth even when he lied. To him and the men of his bloodline. Lying was a trait of weakness, a blatant way of saying you're not strong enough to handle the backlash of speaking the honest truth. There was nothing in this world Moore men deemed lower than being a weakling to their elitist and over the top standards; this'll explain why Juelz has more than half of NYC under his control and "all seeing eye". However, when it came to Olivia... He, without a single doubt, threw his creed out the window. He'd endure being seen as weak if it meant keeping her safe and smiling. He wanted to tell her about the call, tell her about how his father would be paying him a little "visit" in the very near future. But such information went against what he was trying to do this very moment. So pressing the matter further he would not.

"If there's one thing these streets taught me it's to appreciate kindhearted generosity of all kinds, especially the generosity that puts food in your belly."

He took a fork full of the flapjacks then lathered it in the puddle of syrup upon the plate.

"You gotta' humble yourself before the next motherfucker does it for you."

He plopped the fork in his mouth and began chewing with less-than-stellar table manners.

"You really put your foot into these, huh? Shit is good."

He bellowed with a mouth full of food, fork already primed and ready for another greedy plunge into that mouth of his.

Uncultured chewing continued, powerful jaws working away at the spiced cakes of goodness—man how long has it been since he had a meal he enjoyed to his current extent? Smacking lips accompanied the uncultured behavior, the words of Olivia making him glance at her from the corner of his eye. Then he felt it, the slick coolness of the pancake topping dabbed on his nose. Taken by complete surprise from the action, eyes fixated on the smear—damn near cross eyed with a cocked brow.

Another fork full of goodness plunged into that greedy maw of the drug baron as more whipped cream was applied like a makeshift warpaint of sorts. She was being a playful little shit now... Making a meal for a man is means for marking his face like he is some painting canvas? Juelz was far from mad or even annoyed for that matter—homeboy just wanted to show this little firecracker he was nothing to be trifled with in every sense of the word. So, when she rose from his side and headed for the kitchen, thoughts circulated and fueled the tactical mind of Juelz Santana.

He too stood up from his "throne", a finger trailing down the mound of melting whipped cream on his now empty plate. With a barbaric belch he approached behind his dear friend with a smirk of pure evil—I'd be lying if I said he didn't glance at her backside while doing so... Once within arms reach he'd position himself in front of the red head and extend his arm forward, that finger of his no different from the Extra-Terrestrial known as E.T. He mentally marked his target, her forehead as he crept closer with each passing second. Warmth graced the oily and white finger of the kingpin as he trailed the whipped cream across her forehead with a big grin—the biggest grin she has seen from him thus far. In a deep tone he muttered one word...

"Simba..."

Followed by a rather gnarly belch, in which he turned his head for to keep the funk out of the face of Olivia.