Fight Night [Almaz]

[Ezekiel]

It was easy to make someone grateful for necessities when they had nothing. Tatyana looked at him like he was an anchor in an uncertain world, and he only grinned in answer. Zeke was generous with his time at the church, but few received the sort of individual attention she did. Of course, few could be of use the same way she could.

He ordered her a water without asking what she might want. Her discomfort was palpable in the way she looked around the bar while they waited; Zeke would dispel those lingering ghosts, but only while he accounted himself as saviour from them. The youngest Vasiliev boy peddled Paragon’s drugs up in that lofty casino she was so scarred by, and perhaps one day Tatyana would serve better as a sacrifice than an investment. But until that time, by Zeke’s side was the safest place to be.

“You’re with me now,” he interjected into her trailing silence. It was as simple as that. Security, shelter. So long as she played her part, of course, but he doubted she’d see it as exploitation. From what he’d seen outside the church, and what she’d said to him about challenge, she was likely to enjoy the work. Though tonight was just about realising the possibility, not setting her to that work. Ultimately she had to be the one to ask to step into the ring.

He downed his own drink. She could take the water with her. In the close chaos of downstairs, a far cry from the pretense of gentility in the topside bar, she might need the respite. When he moved he expected her to follow. 

The narrow staircase was lit only by the neon glow of the steps, and a chill rode the air as they descended. It was only as they neared the bottom that Zeke glanced half over his shoulder with a devil’s grin, “Welcome to Almaz.”