Midnight Phantom
Damon furrowed his brow, exhaled sharply, crossed his arms in an impatient gesture, and stared down at the sniper while tapping his foot monotonously.
“Name.” He repeated, this time a little firmly, and pick up his favorite torturing toy.
The pliers.
When the sniper didn’t respond, he clipped one of his fingers pinching it tight and threatening to cut off the tip.
“Name!” Damon demanded once more, roaring as he presses the pliers hard.
“Ah! Fuck.” He screams, stuttering. “It’s-It’s Jamie!”
Damon gives a smug grin of victory before letting go of the grip and tilting his head. “Well, Jamie, are you ready to sing?”
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