#*tech support.

          he’s far more vulnerable around her.  far more pressed into feelings , urges - whatever he doesn’t feel normally.  suppresses it like a scream drowned at the bottom of his lungs.  today , he isn’t sure why she’s upset , but at the same time he gets it all.  she’s overwhelmed , scared , uncertain ; everything JB’s felt at a certain point in his life.  the feeling that all could be ripped away at any moment.  the feeling that those walls that were put up , constructed from the strongest materials of the mind , could come crashing down and the dam could just . . . break. 

          of all people - he understands more than most.

          “ no--- ” the hotel’s being evacuated - and JB wonders how long these people have assumed he was on their side.  he’s moving for the backpack packed full beneath his station at the counter , untying the bow around his neck to stuff it in a side pocket along with the name tag once tacked to shirt.  there’s something on computer screen , a loading bar near halfway filled - something that disallows the screen to be closed or the process will stop.  JB is seemingly too calm for the situation , unzipping each pocket of bag to drop different items in - checking a hidden compartment near the front pocket for a small pistol tucked away.  he stands back up , presses a button or two on the keyboard of laptop. 

          he’s not sure if he’s really allowed to here or not.  never heard any restrictions against it ; has seen other people come and go with their morning coffee or late evening snack to sit at this rooftop lounge and enjoy the sun.  it’s dark out , now , though - and the overcasting clouds make the weather feel hazy like oncoming rain nearing the morning time , but not just yet.  JB turns his head quickly from a building across the street , staring into an open window where the blue glow of a television screen flickers on the opposing wall.  there’s a quiet grumble , an annoyed jumble of disgruntled whispers to self.

          maybe it’s the adrenaline still driving him ; maybe not.  maybe it’s the fear in his veins for what could happen next ; maybe not.  he’s made his way back to the hotel alone , but definitely not unscathed.  although a busted nose and a blackened eye means nothing to some - to him , it came as a warning.  a reminder as to why he never leaves this sanctuary.

          they’d shown up like shadows , but instead of a legion of them there were only two.  bigger men , of course - most every man has either height or muscle on JB markowicz ; but these guys were trained , he could tell by just looking at them.  they said they came with a message , a lesson to teach the rat who hadn’t been doing his job correctly according to the contract signed.  a marker on his name is the last thing he wants , a refusal to place his blood on the pretty copper piece another offers in return for a favor.  they mentioned something like that , he’s sure of it , but in his rush to get away without further injuries . . .  the rest is forgotten.

          did he have a choice ?  an option not to be manhandled , to be plucked off the sidewalk as quickly as he was sent to it ?  JB is banking on NO whereas the writhing is more-so giving him the impression of YES ; legs kicking , arms failing to prompt hands to deliver punches hard enough to push her to drop him again.  he supposes this is what he’s been afraid of the whole time he’s spent hiding inside the confines of the hotel ; someone to recognize his face , attempt to beat his ass and then carry him off to finish him like an animal to its prey.  but that’s just it ; he’s always been the rat in a city full of hawks.  the only man in this line of work whose strong suit has never been fighting , and running got him nowhere.  not this time.