the handler

              Erractic breaths, an elevated heartbeat and palms compressed against her knees, the agent historian job, postponed, as she attempted to recuperate; when she wasn’t on a treadmill that maintained a steady balance, she possessed a tendency to thrust herself into the exercise, which translated into overexerting; she enjoyed running because it allocated time to reflect, without actually having to sit down and let her contemplations consume her; but whether she was running to or from something, she wasn’t certain. “Huh?” Glancing over to her companion, Melusine pulled out the wireless headphones, sage hues inspecting the foreign terrain, she was somewhere off Lombard street, the woman unaware the man’s endeavour to converse until she felt a pair of eyes regard her. “Oh yes, it’s lovely,” she uttered, an Irish lilt stringing her words together, “though I don’t think I’m quite used to the Californian rays, despite residing here for three years, about. I think I much prefer the doom and gloom of the London streets — you don’t miss it?” She inquired, detecting the man’s accent, she presumed around South London, but then again, she was never faired well with accents. “You’re right though, the roving hills are lovely, especially near the waters, it’s a spectacular view to run along, beats staring at the gym wall, a slab of drab concrete” she responded. “What about you roller guy? How long have you been here? Skate all the way from England?” 

      at the sound of her accent, roger felt himself perk up immediately. “hang on, you’re an ex-pat like me?” it took a few seconds, but a smile split his face. he knew there were a lot of english transplants in the states, but he hadn’t counted on meeting one so soon. the day was only getting better. “depends on the day, love. i like the sunshine usually. it’s so different than what’s back home. i haven’t been here long enough to really miss the endless rainy days.” he ran a hand through his short cropped hair and looked back up at the sky. not a dark cloud in sight. “i’ve gotta test this bad boys out near the water. i haven’t had the chance yet. i keep ending up over this way.” he smiled at the woman brightly. 

Julian had seen a lot of things in his life. Beautiful views over tropical beaches. Million dollar paintings. Gems worth more than most people could imagine. The inside of a prison cell. Yet, he realized he hadn’t yet seen it all. For example, a grown man on rollerblades waxing about the beauty of life. That was an experience he had lacked so far but apparently, San Francisco readily provided him with it. There was a brief moment of confusion crossing his features, one eyebrow raised as he looked the man up and down to decide whether to engage. Years of living in the big city had taught him that sometimes, walking away was the smarter option. But also, he only made the smart choice about 50% of the time. “You’ve got a point,” he offered, hesitation still audible in his voice. “Although, the lack of great bagels is really disappointing.”

      roger could read the apprehension on the man beside him. he almost expected him to duck his head and walk away as fast as he could. but he was pleasantly surprised when he actually answered him. today was a good day. “i try to at least make one good point a day. usually fail, but not today.” at the mention of bagels, his stomach rumbles. he can’t recall ever having a great one, but he knows about them. “are you from, um, what’s the city? new york? aren’t they famous for that?”

          Coldplay. Juliet had always loved Coldplay. But she came to despise the band, or more precisely one song, more and more with every passing day.  ‘Mommy, can you put Paradise on? Mommy, pleaseeeeee?’  In the beginning, she didn’t mind listening to it in the mornings on their short drive to Gracie’s kindergarten, but a week into it? At one point she thought she’d gotten through it all, but apparently not, thanks to Mason.  “Can I ask you something? Would you buy a four-year-old an iPod and put only one song on it just to annoy the mom of said four-year-old?”  

      scratching at his beard, roger almost missed the woman speaking to him. at her question, a grin broke out on his face. san francisco was an interesting place and somewhere he would enjoy living for the foreseeable future. “depends on if this mom has wronged or slighted me in any way. i bet most people would say no, but in reality, yeah. are you this mom?” he turned his body toward her and raised his eyebrows. “what’s the song? tiptoe through the tulips?”

      shoving the rest of the cold spring roll into his mouth, roger picked up a discarded magazine on his new asset’s counter. she was sure taking her sweet time returning from whatever errand garnered her attention. he could have waited until she returned and knocked on her door like a normal human being, but roger was bored. boredom led to bad things. so instead, he jimmied her lock (something he’d chastise her about later) and helped himself to whatever left overs her found in her fridge.