tremolo
fandom: Malevolent
whumpee: Arthur Lester
word count: 3,097
tags/warnings: hurt/comfort, pre-canon, protective Parker, hurt Arthur Lester, mentions of blood, unconscious, field medicine
—
Parker grinned at the barkeep, an old friend of his named Bobby, as the man relayed a story from his past containing a lovely young lady and a rambunctious gentleman getting into quite a bit of trouble. He sipped his whiskey quietly, seeing no further need to spur on the man's tale as it was given out freely, simply letting himself feel the burn of the alcohol in the back of his throat as it travelled down.
Bobby leaned over the counter to whisper into Parker's face as to how that specific tale ended, a finale that seemed to be quite a promising ending if the gleaming mirth in the man's eyes was anything to go by. But before the man could finish his tale, the speakeasy's door was pushed open with a whine from the old and cracked wooden door.
The barkeep turned to face his new guests, but the easy smile adorning his lips mere moments ago fell into a frown, amused eyes widening slightly. The atmosphere inside the barroom instantly turned ice cold and tense.
Parker watched the differing emotions travel across Bobby's face before turning to see what had the man looking so spooked.
Parker was by no means a pushover, his stature and muscle mass were hints enough for people to know not to mess with him, and he had been known to turn rowdy and unwanted customers away from his regular drinking spot when needed. He turned around, eyebrows furrowed in a way he knew to make lesser men shudder and think twice about approaching, but as he took in the sight in front of him, he could feel his face slacken and his eyebrows shooting up instead.
Not ten steps away from Parker, right on the threshold of the bar's entrance stood his and Arthur's current person of interest; a weaselly man named Donny, grinning wolfishly and seeming more than pleased with himself. Around and behind him were a few of his henchmen double his size that Parker didn't care enough to remember their names. The only information he needed was that they belonged to some gang on the other side of town, and they knew about the services Parker and his partner provided.
Donny took a couple leisurely steps forwards and to the side, and all at once Parker understood why he looked like a predator with its fangs sunk deeply into its prey's soft neck.
Parker's breath caught in his throat as the man moved to reveal none other than Parker's own partner hanging off the loose hold two of Donny's lackeys had on each of his arms.
