Threat: a statement of an intention to inflict pain, injury, damage, or other hostile action on someone in retribution for something done or not done.
*
I greeted Quin at the front desk, who remembered me with a smile, and allowed me to wander in with my guest shortly behind me.
Down the hall, we approached the theatre door where Ava was, leaning against the wall waiting for us. "He here?" I asked.
She nodded, "Yep. Just got here." Her words were spiteful. I had told her about Robyn's date, to which she had some more than colourful things to say about him and wanted to do something about it herself. But I had a better idea with my new friend Dylan.
I looked at Dylan, who gave me a nod, and we went to walk into the theatre, but on his way past, Ava gripped his arm and hissed, "Make the bastard crap himself."
Dylan was unaffected by her sudden outburst, and winked, "I'll try my best." She released his arm, allowing him to walk in.
"Man, the girl's got grip," Dylan commented rubbing where Ava's claw-like fingers had dug in as the doors closed behind us.
"She's very protective of Robyn," I explained, "Thanks again for getting up early for this. I just wanted to get this done as soon as possible." My voice was hushed so I wouldn't disturb the theatrical ambiance of the room. There was a trio of girls in purple leotards and skirts on stage dancing to a classical piece, while a pretty dance I was too distracted by the task at hand to appreciate it.
Dylan shrugged, "Robyn reminds me of my sister Blake. This Timothy guy has some nerve doing that to any girl," he informed.
I scanned the rows of seats and eventually found a figure sitting near the front, the glow of a phone glaringly evident that he wasn't paying attention to the trio on stage. "Over there," I pointed him out, "You ready?"
The way he smiled sent chills down my spine as he replied, "Gonna have some fun with this."
When he walked past me, my mouth went dry. He had told me I didn't have to say anything, just be a presence beside him for 'reference and brawn.' As it turns out, there's psychology to delivering an effective threat.
I followed behind Dylan, going down Timothy's aisle while Dylan shuffled down the one behind him. When Timothy saw me coming he went to get up and leave, but before he could move Dylan grabbed his shoulders and pulled him back down, "Stay," he said quietly. Timothy recognised the voice, his eyes wide as he obeyed, sinking down his chair. I sat down next to him and watched the remainder of the elegant dance.
Dylan had removed his hands from Timothy's shoulders and sat down, still leaning forwards, so his voice was next to Timothy's ear.
"Landon here tells me that you've recently gone on a date with Robyn," he stated, "She's a nice girl, seems like a real delight."
The dance came to an end, and the trio was approached by likely their instructor who was providing quick feedback to them.
"But see, I also heard that you tried to come onto her," Dylan stated, "Just because she's deaf, means she can't say no, right?" Dylan was sitting on the edge of his seat, able to comfortably invade Timothy's space. "You're a disgusting excuse for a man, Tim. It sickens me to share a gender with you." Timothy was sitting stiffly in his chair, the only thing daring to move being his eyes.
The next dance was Robyn again, dressed in the same black leotard and shoes as the last time I saw her. She started centre stage and looked around the empty seats, likely in search of Ava. She managed to find our faces, giving us a broad smile and a small wave. I waved back as her face became stern and she adopted the first position of her dance.
"So as not to confuse you, Tim, I'm gonna make this really simple for you." Dylan clicked his fingers, making Timothy look at him. "I don't care if you want to date Robyn, that's your own choice. But if I find out that you've forced yourself on her again, count your blessings, or I'll count your teeth."
Timothy gritted his teeth, trying to stop his lips from quivering as he countered, "Don't threaten me."
Dylan clicked his tongue. "That wasn't a threat, buddy. That was a guarantee. This is a threat." Dylan grabbed a fistful of Timothy's blond hair and yanked his head back, forcing him to lean back on the chair. "If you so much as look at her the wrong way, I will find you and break all of your bloody fingers before carving out your heart with a spoon." Timothy was clutching Dylan's hand, the only thing keeping him from yelling out was Dylan's other hand clamping his mouth shut. Dylan words were quick, "And feel free to tell people about this, your friends, your teacher, your parents, but I will equally be happy to explain to them why I felt the need to do this in the first place." Timothy tried to pull away, prompting Dylan to yank him back. "And I can guarantee that people will believe a kid who overreacted to help a friend than a pervert boy who can't keep his hands to himself. Am I clear?"
Timothy looked close to tears as he viciously nodded, still trying to pry Dylan's fingers off his mouth. Dylan nodded, "Good." Timothy fell forwards when Dylan released him, his breathing became ragged, and everything trembled. Dylan, calmly, hopped over the chair and leaned next to Tim's ear as he whispered something to him. Dylan's threat had already made me uncomfortable, so I wasn't too interested in figuring out what else he had to say. I chose to focus on Robyn, who was conducting the same dance as the last time I saw her. She looked equally strong and equally beautiful.
Timothy scrambled to his feet and fled the theatre. I watched Robyn watch him go, breaking focus for only a second before startling herself and continuing with the routine. Dylan sighed as he sat down next to me, leaning back in his chair to take in Robyn's dance. "What was that last part about?" I asked, as despite my feelings I was curious.
Dylan shrugged, "I just let him know that if he didn't believe me, there were tonnes of other people who would be willing to beat his ass." He gestured to Ava at the door, "Like her for instance. Or you. Or even Robyn herself."
"I can't see Robyn lifting a finger to that dickhead," I said.
"Doesn't matter if she will, but if he thinks she can," Dylan explained, "Even he can see that she's a strong chick. I wouldn't want to fight her."