Practice
Danny took a long, slow in breath before raising his gaze, locking eyes with Slaughter. He shifted slightly in his seat before speaking to the hulk of a man in front of him.
“I have a question for you.”
“Go ahead. Waste more of what little time you have left.”
“Do you have a practice? A routine? Something that helps you de-stress, lower the cortisol levels? Maybe a little meditation or some soothing music you like to listen to?”
Slaughter’s face contorted into a sneer of contempt.
“No, I fucking don’t.”
“Really? What a shame. I do.”
“And what would that…practice…be?”
“I like to punch assholes”
Danny’s sharp uppercut connected sweetly with Slaughter’s chin, the unmistakeable sound of teeth smashing unexpectedly together audible across the room.
More Snackable Danny
