#a good guy (enzo pantazis)

[not-so-bad]

12/07/2024, 13:24

"Mr P., you know a pacemaker would solve all your problems, right?"

Anatoliy's youngest regular patient, Enzo, who has been refusing to accept the offer of a free appointment to get a pacemaker in his chest, remains stubborn. However, Anatoliy has a bet that he'd like to win — $1028 and a 7% pay raise is a lot of money and he needs that.

Enzo shakes his head. "One EMP and it'll stop working; wouldn't that be more dangerous than not having one on the first place?"

Anatoliy sighs. "It's fairly rare that an EMP would actually happen anywhere near you, given that you're a lawyer."

"Yeah, but–"

"And wouldn't it be nice to have a guarantee that you'll see your daughter graduate one day?"

Enzo goes quiet and Anatoliy's eyebrows raise. "... Yeah. Yeah, it would be."

"I'll check with the surgeon."

"Thank you."

[freebirdyance]

Paulie nods solemnly. “Yeah, of course, Mr. Pantazis,” he replies dutifully before kneeling on the ground to do just that. Being posted at the apartment for guard duty most of the time, he’s familiar with what Enzo must mean. Poor guy has been through so much already, and now this. He needs to call his girl when he can…

As Paulie is helping Enzo, he hears the ping signaling that the elevator is headed back up to their floor, and he doesn’t hesitate this time. Pulling out his gun, he aims towards the front door, face set in stone. He knows who it has to be thanks to the security code, but he’s not taking any chances.

Sure enough, the door opens and Yancy steps in, looking even more intimidating than usual. Breathing heavily, the suit he left in this morning is now a tank top and slacks, both splattered with blood and dirt. Paulie’s never seen this side of the boss before. Then again, he wasn’t around in the first few years of his takeover. But he’s heard stories.

“Shit, boss, you okay?” The amount of blood is concerning.

Dark brown eyes land on Enzo, and it’s all Yancy can focus on as he stalks forward. “None of it’s mine,” he grits out before kneeling next to Paulie, ignoring the various muscles that protest as he places a hand on Enzo’s thigh. Fuck, he doesn’t look good at all. “Enzo… I’m here, baby.”

Normally, Enzo would feel awful about letting anyone ever support his weight, given that he isn't exactly the lightest person in the world, but he's in no state to truly discourage Paulie's decision to do so, unable to really carry himself properly.

He's extremely grateful that the couch isn't too far from the door, not knowing if he would've been able to make it past this point in the house, even with Paulie helping him.

When Paulie asks if he wants a hug, Enzo pauses for a moment, allowing him to explain his reasoning, before shaking his head slowly.

"Jus' help with my leg... please." He has a distant feeling that it'd be easier to feel even a little bit calmer if what remained of his right leg wasn't starting to swell up in the socket of his prosthetic.

[wilfywarfy]

"Well, good evening to you, my name is Wilford Warfstache. And uh..." Why was he here?

"Apologies, my memory isn't the best... Uhm... If I remember right, I had this one guy come up to me and try to beat me in a back alley, so then I shoot him, but then this other rat comes up behind me and stabs me real good, and uh... I lost my pants in the wormhole..."

Wilford sat down across from the man. There was a name tag on his desk. Enzo J. Pantazis. Detecti- oh. Did he just accidentally confess?

"Uhm...I mean... None of that..."

"WAaAAAAaAhH!"

A pink void appears in the air in the middle of Enzoa office. Where the void came from, who knows? All that matters is that it was there, and it was dropping stuff. A few bullet shells, a butterfly knife, and a... A whole man. One dressed in a long sleeve cream button up, rainbow suspenders, and... No pants? At least he had rainbow socks.

"Ughhhh..." He groaned, rolling in pain. "Why must I always fall from high places?"

-@wilfywarfy

Enzo was half asleep when he heard the sound of shells dropping.

Then he hears an entire man and he's wide awake, practically jolted awake by the yelling "Ιησούς γαμημένος Χριστός-"

He peers at Wilford over his desk, a little annoyed about being woken at four in the morning. He grits his teeth and clears his throat, sitting back down "Need somethin'?" He grumbles, his voice deeper and more raspy from being asleep.

((Ιησούς γαμημένος Χριστός = jesus fucking christ))