Maverick  was  not  convinced.  He  stood  there,  arms  crossed,  naturally  intimidating  through  his  posture  and  height.  "Hmpf.  I  didn't  ask  for  company.  I'll  set  shit  on  fire.  You'll  break  a  bone  or  two."  These  were  the  kind  of  dangerous  affairs  in  which  he  was  involved  regularily.  "I  can  grow  those  back  really  quick,  what  about  you?!"  Maverick  absolutely  didn't  beat  around  the  bush.  Nope,  not  gonna  babysit  this  guy.  The  man  simply  didn't  look  like  he  was  suited  for  this  kind  of  job.

"Why  are  we  discussing  this,  who  sent  you  to  come  along?  Or  are  you  the  one  who  called  earlier?"  There  was  definitely  something  he  missed  or  didn't  remember  at  this  point.  But  somehow  they  were  supposed  to  work  with  each  other  now.  "To  make  sure  we're  on  the  same  page:  You  do  what  I  tell  you  and  don't  get  in  the  way.  For  your  own  good.",  he  really  meant  this.  "What  was  your  name  again?  You  surely  don't  wanna  end  up  as  John  Doe  in  the  morgue."

         he doesn’t know about her , but he’s certainly out of breath.  this fight’s gone on forever now , so it seems , and neither of them have necessarily budged when it comes to putting one foot near the grave.

         it’s almost like a dance , and for their origin ( hers having only recently being revealed to him ) , it isn’t surprising that this deadly waltz has ended in them both being exhausted with very minimal injuries to show.  winter’s just as sturdy as he is , definitely more flexible due to her age , and has managed to kick his ass just as hard as he feared she would.  john’s heavy breathing is only evidence that the past five years of living on theother side has done nothing but taken a toll on him.  he’s exhausted - and she knows it.

         “ yeah , ” hurried word is forced out between breaths , palms reaching to rest on knees.  right hand reaches to push hair from his face and rid some of the sweat from his forehead.  john shakes his head , stands up straight again with both hands now positioned on his lower back , and bends to stretch as if that’ll help him in any way.  “ you givin’ up ? ”

             fire burns in her lungs. the sharp gasps to recompose do little to alleviate the breathless pain. it’s been a while since she had to work for something to this extent - like mimicking the same routine en pointe until fatigue buried into bones and a flawless performance was achieved only when standing in ones own blood. push on. he’s exposing a vulnerable point, he’s weak, he’s out of practice. but so is she. two years of untraceable toxins and bedded assassinations have left her ignorant of her training. 

               “ no, “  she’s nodding despite herself, slipping back against a hole-riddled wall. it began in the early hours of the morning, stars still speckled across a sky of black, and the chase has brought them here: straining to hold their bodies up under the first prying rays of light. if she had ammo, she could shoot. if she had a knife, she could throw it. but it’s all been reduced to bruised and split knuckles and broken glass and thrown furniture. he’s bigger. she’s more energetic. it’s a stalemate. winter finally pulls together, a deep exhale. 

              “ spiders are pretty nice. “  it’s the nerves - an impulse to sate the trembling of restless hands by speaking. perhaps it will make the tension in her spine loosen and fade, the thud of heartbeat dull and calm. penelope doesn’t mind strangers, a bubbly positivity swarming her soul that invigorates a need for companionship that surpasses all reasonable fear of new people. 

"Ja  natürlich  kann  ich  relaxen  während  uns  der  ganze  scheiß  Mob  an  den  Hacken  klebt.",  bellte  er  direkt  zurück.  "In  Sicherheit.  In  Sicherheit  am  Arsch."  Sie  saßen  in  einem  Auto,  Motor  und  Scheinwerfer  aus.  Eine  schmale,  düstere  Seitengasse.  Das  Licht  einer  entfernten  Laterne  erhellte  schwach  die  quer  verlaufende  Straße.  Ihr  Wagen  war  weit  genug  weg  geparkt,  um  nicht  im  Lichtkegel  zu  stehen.  Kyran,  am  Steuer,  schien  wirklich  relaxed  zu  sein.  Maverick  auf  dem  Beifahrersitz  war  dagegen  auf  Krawall  gebürstet.  "Hast  du  ne  Kippe  für  mich?"  Vielleicht  klappte  es  dann  mit  dem  entspannen.  Er  ließ  bereits  das  Fenster  ein  Stück  herunter  und  wartete,  bis  Kyran  eine  rüberwachsen  ließ.

"Riku  halten  wir  raus  aus  der  Sache."  Mavericks  Stimme  senkte  sich  bedrohlich,  als  hätte  eine  falsche  Antwort  vom  anderen  sofortige  Konsequenzen.  Diese  Connection  erklärte  aber  zumindest,  wieso  er  mit  jemandem  im  selben  Wagen  saß,  mit  dem  er  eigentlich  nicht  im  Geringsten  was  zu  tun  haben  wollte.  Aber  dieser  Kyran  war  immer  noch  besser  als  die  Leute,  die  gerade  Jagd  auf  sie  machten,  um  ihnen  die  Haut  abzuziehen.  "Wem  hast  du  ans  Bein  gepisst  und  wieso  brauchst  du  mich  für  deine  Angelegenheiten?"

"What  exactly  has  the  one  thing  to  do  with  the  other?!",  genuine  question.  Huffing,  not  particularly  at  the  other  man,  it  was  simply  his  usual  demeanor.  "They  should  just  give  it  a  shot  and  come  at  me."  Maverick  clearly  didn't  give  a  fuck  about  someone  following  him.  But  since  he  was  talking  to  the  stranger  it  indeed  seemed  as  if  they  knew  each  other.  "The  next  thing  you'll  do  is  telling  me  who's  following  us.  Right?"

"Ich  konzentriere  mich  auf  den  Fall.  Ist  nur  so,  dass  DU  die  verdammten  fünfzig  Grand  gerade  in  diesem,  was  auch  immer,  fucking  Designerbeutel  mit  dir  rumträgst,  nicht  ich.",  konterte  Maverick  direkt  bissig.  Gewohnt  aggressiv  im  Ton,  obwohl  er  nichts  gegen  seine  Begleiterin  hatte.  Sie  kannten  sich  bloß  kaum.  Und  transportierten  fünfzigtausend  Dollar  im  Auftrag  durch  die  nächtlichen  Straßen  der  Stadt.  "Denk  nicht  ich  würde  dich  anstarren.  Ich  kenn  dich  gar  nicht.",  knurrte  er.  Irgendwer  hatte  Maverick  bloß  angeheuert,  dafür  zu  sorgen,  dass  das  Geld  am  Ziel  ankam.  Was  auch  immer  das  zu  bedeuten  hatte.

"I'm  just  fucking  standing  here.  You  don't  look  intimidated  either.  If  I  was  threatening  you,  you  would.",  he  declared.  Yeah,  he  was  insufferably  confident,  rightfully  so.