After the talk with the receptionist, it was quite bloody. The receptionist herself did not believe Dawn, even after reading the note. It resulted into him having to prove he was John's son. So, he had to beat her to near death. Dawn himself did not like it, but the receptionist did. "She must be a psycho," thought Dawn, wiping the metallic blood off of his knuckles.
Now, here he was, second in command. He could not become the boss, because of a replacement made. It was Aza's father, Hades. A perfect name for the reason his family is dead. He made Aza, so in return, Dawn hates him. The boy sat at his desk, tapping his fingers along the black wood, watching the textures. It had squiggles like a normal tree, the small hole remaining at the corner of the desk, acting as a cup holder. Boxes were scattered around, with assistants constantly walking back and forth, carrying small to big boxes.
The office itself looked like a storage room, having dim lights, flickering after a few minutes, causing Dawn to squint his eyes. The shine of the light reflected off of his tired hazel eyes, exposing his slightly dark bags underneath. Which he grumbled at. He did not like the look of them, but it was human nature. The male looked down at his laptop. It was one of the brand new ones. Having a silver touch to it, black lining being across the edges. The bottom being completely covered with black rubber.
A knock on the door made his mind come back to reality, his eyes staring at the door. "Why is the door closed? Are they done?" Dawn asked himself, before a knock rung again. He got up and walked to the door, slightly opening it. There was no one, making him furrow his brows in confusion. "My thoughts must be getting to me." He muttered, closing the door. Once he heard the click of the lock, he turned around with the heel of his silk shoes.
He then stopped, seeing a pair of bare feet when he looked down. He did not dare to follow the figure up, knowing he would regret it. Small droplets of water splattered on the ground, the pale, blue like skin being more of a purple, the veins popping from the feet. A white turn skirt flowing down, it being dirty and damped with water. Dawn inhaled as he closed his eyes. "1..2..3..4.." he counts on, until he reached ten.
The boy opened his eyes, seeing the figure's feet being gone. The male let's out a sigh of relief, the pounding of his heart slowly calming down in his ears. The teen placed his black gloved hand on his chest, feeling his chest rise and fall. Dawn took off his black leather gloves, placing them on his desk. He traced the texture on the gloves, it being almost snake like. His round, white finger nail tracing the outlines of it. Dawn heard the door open, his ears twitching at hearing a pair of boots walking inside, with a pair of tennis shoes following. "Dawn, we need to talk."