The boy laughed. It sounded fake. "Ah, where are my manners? I'm Fassor, leader of the Bronze Giants. And I want you, dear boy, to earn me my rightful place as the best. A place that that Vanguard and their fancy new ways of doing things took from me! The audacity!"
"Me. Earn you." They weren't questions, merely statements. He still didn't move from his spot.
His eyes widened, realizing his mistake. "What? No! Of course not! What I meant to say was earn us our rightful place. They've shoved you to the side, right? Deemed you unworthy of their prestigious group?"
"Come closer. Let me tell you something." He beckoned the boy closer.
Fassor began to panic. "What for? Surly you can tell me from over there?"
"Just come here. I wanna explain my situation to you, but I don't want anyone else that may be eavesdropping hearing."
His eyes lit up, eager, and he stepped forward.
Immediately, Runner's hand snapped out, grabbing Fassor by the neck and dragging him closer. "I will only tell you once. Once," he hissed, all the while his grip tightened. "I will not be someone's pawn anymore. All helping has done is bring me hell, a broken heart, and a missing tooth. But I'mma let you go this time. Consider it good will, yeah?" He opened his free hand, a ball of fire hovering a few inches above it. "I think you can infer what will happen if I see you again, yeah?"
BUUUUUUUTT Fassor's dumb and thinks Runner's playing hard to get. (I really hate this character so have at it)) He cleared his throat, rubbing it. "Ah. I see how it is. What will it cost me? Third in Command? Second? I can't go any higher, for obvious reasons."
"I will cost you your life," he said, slamming a fist into the boy's stomach with the force of a truck going 60.
"oof!" Fassor stumbled back, then turned his skin to steel. "Fine." He wheezed. "Be like that." He ran forward, fist swinging.
Clover, in the inn and slurping up the remains of her soup, heard the commotion, and sighed. "Here we go." She took her time getting up, and even then, she conveniently got distracted multiple times.
He raised an open palm, catching the fist with a wince as it smacked into his hand. He then began to apply more and more pressure to the hand as Fassor attempted to wrench it away, the metal slowly buckling under his fingers.
Fassor gritted his teeth, shrinking down in size to escape Runner's grip. (He's a Giant, they can do that)
((Gotcha
Suddenly, hellfire burst all over his skin, blazing so bright it was turning blue. "*I gave you a chance to walk away!" he shouted, more for himself than anything else.
"Okay!" Once again, Clover grabbed him and yanked him back–grabbing his oversized shirt this time. "That enough." She stormed up to a still tiny Fassor and picked him up between her index finger and thumb. "And you. Leave him be. Not wanted here." She flicked him away, and Fassor tripped over himself as he grew back to normal size, seething. "Go!" Clover yelled, taking a step forward. He glared at her, then took off.
He strained against the grip of her arm, using his lower body and legs to start to drag her along at a snail's pace. "Let me go!"
She did, heading back to the inn without a word.
He started to run, but then realized that Fassor had disappeared into a shadow. The hellfire that danced across his skin died down like a gas burner being slowly turned from high to off.
"You kill him, what do then?" Clover asked, having thought better of leaving him alone with his anger.
"I….I don't know." The fire was now completely gone, leaving his clothed slightly singed and his hair smoking.
She flicked her brows up at his smoldering hair. "Still angry, take out on me."
He shook his head. "I'm not mad no more."
She honestly looked surprised. "Oh?"
"Yeah. I'm good now." He shook his head, sighing. "I'm just…tired. And I'm cranky when I'm tired."
She gave him a flat look. "Then sleep."