"What'd you think? That if you killed your drug dealer, you'd take everything I had on me, and not pay a cent. Freebies. Funny-- nothing is free in this world. You may have killed me, you'd get your high, but guilt would eat you alive. You're an addict, not a killer. The more the guilt ate at you, the more you'd try and suppress it with the high. Run from it. When you ran out of your high, where would you go? You've killed me, my boys will be looking for you, and the word would be out on the street not to sell to your shady ass. No more drugs, that guilt only getting worse as you understand the consequences. If you didn't end your life, my boys sure would. What a waste over the very little extra I got on me, cause you're not the first stupid motherfucker whose pulled this shit. Why do you think I know the story so well?" Jiyong raised a brow. 

 "Now, how about we do the right thing and act smart about this, huh? Put the razor and whatever kind of weapon you've got hiding on you, put 'em down or forget about them. Grab out your wallet, pay what you owe me, and we both go home without any problems." his eyes traveled to the man's shaking hand, clearly struck with fear, and unsure of Jiyong's calm ways. "C'mon, I'm even letting you go without apologizing. This offer only lasts so long, I suggest you take it now before I get angry." The man continued to shake, his eyes darting from Jiyong to the weapon in his hand in indecision. 

 The debate evident in his eyes. Jiyong rolled his eyes, yet again letting out a sigh. "I hate when it has to come to this, all you addicts-- no respect. Idiots, the lot of you." Jiyong sneered. Reaching into his back pocket, a click sounded once. Quickly, he pulled his hand from out behind him, barely taking the time to aim before unloading three shots off into the man. The man stood for a moment, eyes wide before dropping like a plank. 

 Jiyong whistled, twirling his finger in the air as two young men emerged from the alley. "Get this the fuck outta my sight." he ordered. The younger males struggled to grab the body, hunching it into the back of a car. Jiyong reached into his other pocket pulling out a pack of cigarettes, shaking out one into his palm, setting it between his lips. Stashing the pack back into his jean pockets, trading it for the lighter. Sparking the flame and stopping just before lighting his cigarette. 

 Spitting the stick of tobacco back out on the ground. 'Nasty habit.' he thought to himself before getting in a different vehicle and heading for home. Pulling into his parking space, he pulled down the visor, looking over his new cut in the mirror. 'I don't want you to worry.' he let his eyes close, resting back in the car seat. 'Is everything alright?' he could hear her ask. 'Yes, everything is fine.' he'd have to say before trying to get her to go back to sleep. He looked up at the home they shared and sighed, he knew how it would cause her to stress, maybe even in her head beg that he do something better with his life.

 What could he do? This was his life. He knew nothing but this. The drugs, fighting, and death that surrounded him had made a home, a dark and broken one, but a home nonetheless. Even hell starts to get comfy once you've settled in. So-- maybe he couldn't promise her a future, but he could promise the here and now. That'd he'd keep her safe but the same promise of self preservation felt like a lie.