You thought jerry finished? hahahaha

Drop some comments and stones it motivates me to write faster

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Jerry's footsteps echoed faintly in the hallway, soft, dragging, a pathetic shuffle of a man too used to taking up space no one wanted to give him. His shoulders hunched forward, arms wrapped in tight against his sides like he was trying to fold himself out of existence. He didn't even have the decency to leave with a slam just the soft click of the door easing shut behind him. It was the kind of sound that didn't carry weight, didn't stir the air… the sound of a presence fading out of a place it no longer belonged.

Viktor watched him go. No smile, no smirk just a blank, measured gaze, arms folded lightly across his chest. He didn't follow the door with his eyes. He didn't need to. Some things were beneath watching.

The hallway held onto the echo of Jerry's exit a moment too long before silence settled back like a natural order restored.

"Not yet."

The thought bled into the forefront of Viktor's mind with the quiet certainty of a man checking a clock on a long game already in motion.

"You don't kill a man like Jerry when he's this pathetic. Not while he's still crawling, clinging to scraps, hoping someone anyone leaves the door cracked open. That's not a death. That's mercy. And mercy's for the ones who've earned it."

He let his eyes drift lazily toward the empty hallway, studying it like a space waiting to be filled with something useful.

"A death is a statement. The final course after a long, slow meal. Serve it too early, it's cheap. Like a punchline that hits before the setup's done winding."

His fingers drummed once, slow, thoughtful against his forearm not out of irritation, but rhythm. A heartbeat of patience.

"You let him rot first. Strip him down. Dignity, pride, every excuse he clings to like a security blanket… piece by piece until there's nothing left but the skin of the man he thought he was."

Beth shifted beside him, the faintest motion lifting her wineglass, swirling the deep red liquid in slow, absent circles. She didn't speak. She didn't glance at him. She didn't need to.

Viktor already knew.

Jerry had lost her tonight not in a fight, not in a screaming match… in silence. In the soft, brittle snap of something breaking without making a sound.

He let a faint, humorless smile touch the corner of his mouth there, then gone.

"Killing Jerry now? That'd be like carving into raw meat before it's had time to spoil. You wait until even the people who once loved him start looking at him like he's a stain they can't scrub out."

No hatred flavored the thought. No rage or contempt. Just clarity. Just truth.

He watched the swirl of wine in Beth's glass, catching the soft glint of kitchen light in its surfacedark, smooth, rich.

"A man dies the second he outlives his purpose. But a man who dies at the bottom of his dignity? Alone… irrelevant… a memory people are relieved to forget? That's a death worth savoring."

He straightened, rolling his shoulders back with a soft stretch, adjusting his sleeves with a slow, seamless tug.

"You don't waste a bullet literal or otherwise on a man who's still desperate enough to beg for a seat at the table. You wait until even his begging gets ignored."

The house hummed around him soft refrigerator whir, faint wind outside, the quiet of a kitchen that had returned to something closer to balance.

Beth set her glass down with a soft clink, fingers brushing the rim. She didn't look at him, but her eyes slid half-lidded toward the door Jerry had vanished through.

"Think he'll come back?" she asked, voice soft, casual, almost curious.

Viktor's gaze didn't waver.

"He will."

Beth gave a slight hum, a breath that might've been a laugh if it weren't so tired.

"And when he does?"

He turned, meeting her eyes for the first time since Jerry left. His voice dropped to a smooth, even murmur.

"He'll be smaller."

Beth tilted her head, studying him like she couldn't decide if she was amused… or unnerved. But she said nothing. She just nodded once and lifted her glass again.

Viktor let his eyes linger on her a moment longer before turning away, pacing slowly toward the sink, letting the thought curl back through his mind like smoke.

"Jerry's walking out thinking this is rock bottom. Poor bastard."

He traced his fingertip across the counter, slow, deliberate.

"He hasn't even started falling yet."

The quiet pressed in again, comfortable, natural the kind of silence Jerry never managed to leave behind.

Viktor exhaled softly, a whisper slipping past his lips like the last word in a conversation only he was part of.

"After all… what's the point of dessert if you don't wait for the hunger?"

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These are my true thoughts about jerry on full display.

If you think l have enough of fucking with jerry then your wrong so WRONG HAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA