'I'm going to die,' Ferdinand realized, with a sudden pang of terror. For all his twitching, and frantic pushing, he could not move the much smaller man even an inch. He must have been half Ferdinand's weight, and yet he sat there more weighty than a boulder ever could, and certainly, far more menacingly.
"…What do you want?" Ferdinand asked the man. It was likely the proudest moment of his life there, that he was able to keep his voice level, despite his impending doom. Somehow it was his irritation that allowed him that – his outrage that he could be so far away from the likes of Oliver Patrick still, after all his efforts.
"I doesn't want anything," the man said defensively. "I ain't such a sick bastard to do all this just for meself. Don't you be putting this on me. This is for the sake of the client."
"The client? What's he planning? Who is he?" Ferdinand said.
