A couple of days later, Gabe was led back to a waiting room. He thought it might be his lawyer, Rupert, but since he had seen him just the week before, with little more to say than his appeal was in the process, Gabe doubted it was him.

He knew who it would be.

Mr. Xero came in as much as before, like a tiger stalking, all laziness and ease but with the unspoken existence of teeth. Sitting down once again on the plastic chair opposite, he managed to make it look like a throne.

“Gabriel.” He said by way of greeting.

Gabe hissed a breath. “I would really prefer ‘Gabe’,”

Mr. Xero halted whatever sentence he had lined up. Meeting Gabe’s eyes he said. “I honestly don’t care what you prefer.”

Gabe clenched his hand into a fist, pressing his lips together, and cursed himself mentally. Three months had done their work; he wasn’t the quivering mess he had been the first time they met. But his confidence was a dangerous acquisition. Mr. Xero was still not one to be pushed.

Still, he struggled to hold his tongue.

“And may I ask why you’re here?” he said instead, forcing himself to at least sound polite.

A small brown box was produced, set on the tabletop and pushed towards the center. Gabe stared at it; it was a thing that didn’t belong and thus was as strange as a jewel on the scuffed, sterile table top. Visitors weren’t allowed to bring things in. But Mr. Xero could do what he pleased, apparently. Money and influence, the code was the same everywhere.

The box sat like an innocuous thing, but Gabe’s mind raced, assessing variables, coming up with potential contents, reasons, incentives, purposes for each.

“It’s rude, to refuse a gift.” Mr. Xero told him quietly, one elegant eyebrow quirked slightly.

Gabe decided the risk of refusing was greater than opening it. It could contain a plague of flies, or it could contain a slinky.

Opening it, he saw what it was: a message.

Before him sat a single, perfectly glazed donut. With sprinkles.

Gabe felt both rage and foreboding settle on his shoulders like white-hot ash.

His was furious when he looked back at the man sitting opposite, who was now sporting a smug smile. The silence stretched tight and felt to Gabe like hot fog. He was almost trembling with the effort to contain himself. After months of training himself to react in violence, restraint had become the weakest muscle.

He dragged in a breath, forcing himself to calm and think carefully.

The ground is covered in glass, walk with caution, but use it to your advantage. He thought.

Slowly, he lifted a hand, schooling his expression to a much cooler one, and picked up the donut. Taking a huge bite, he let the glaze crack and crumble. Some of it stuck to his chin. He left it there, chewing like a cow.

His eyes hadn’t left Mr. Xero’s severe face. As he stuck a tongue out to lick the glaze from the corner of his mouth, he saw blue eyes dart to watch it, then find his again.

Oh?

He made a show of the rest of the donut, relaxing into the devouring of it. He had been craving it after all. It was fresh, God, and fucking delicious. By the time he had finished, his anger had dissipated and all that was left was twanging tension inside.

He leveled a look at Mr. Xero that said, message received and replied.

Mr. Xero appeared furious.

“I didn’t ask for the sprinkles, but thanks anyway. It was excellent.” Gabe risked a cocky grin. He lifted a finger to wipe off the errant piece of glaze and licked it off slowly. He had closed his eyes in the process, but when he opened them, Xero’s expression was a bomb with a shortening fuse.

“You think you would have survived this long without me, you cocky little fuck?” he said, voice barely above a hiss.

Gabe blinked. Well, since he was walking a tightrope anyway…

“Maybe yes, maybe no. But my answer hasn’t changed. I have six more months here, and I’ll survive. I guarantee it.” Gabe leaned forward. “I don’t believe for a second you would care if your ‘friend’ didn’t want me alive for some reason.”

Mr. Xero sneered slightly, and it reminded Gabe of a growl. “You are correct, Gabriel.”

“You know, if you are trying to get me to work for you, you should stop calling me that. It’s Gabe.”

Gabe had no idea why he thought he could bait a dragon. Maybe it was the time spent institutionalized because, in his outer life, he would have shut up long before now. Well, it wasn’t like he had wanted to meet up.

“If you were to work for me, then I would call you princess if I felt like it.” Mr. Xero told him coldly.

“Keep buying me nice things and I’ll let you.” Gabe retorted without thinking.

Yup. This was it. Gabe was making a will in his head.

But he would never be underneath someone again. He would rather die.

Mr. Xero was still clearly angry, but his expression shifted into an echo of his earlier menace.

“You are quite determined not be to be on my payroll.” He said.

“Forgive me, Mister Xero, but people like you don’t have a payroll. You have a naughty list. In the end, everyone pays you.”

Mr. Xero nodded. He got up to leave. “I see.”

At the door, he looked back. “We will be speaking again, Gabriel.”

“Bring more donuts.” Gabe sang at his back.