“Oh, so you’re alone today?” Chanyeol bit sarcastically. He didn’t wait for an answer before removing his tie and discarding his coat onto the floor, kicking the door forcefully close. “You don’t have anyone all over you today?” he added on, stalking forward. He didn’t care, or more, he purposely wanted the prostitute to know to never anger him again. Not to mistake his kindness for weakness. He took the time to unlatch his beloved revolver and set it on the mahogany table, just beside the bed. His eyes followed the man and a twisted, sadistic smirk curved his lips as the smaller seemed to have gotten the hint and had pressed himself against the wall, just behind his bed. The window, casting light to the side of his terror-stricken face.