#01go

He’s used to criminals. Used to people who act first and ask questions later. Used to people who only know how to speak in curses and violence. Used to emotions being unimportant and useless against bullets and bruised knuckles and knives. He knows how to act like one of them, how to fake and lie and pretend until he’s not sure whether he’s accidentally become that which he’s trying to stop. What Nico isn’t used to is the contrast of softness. If Summer’s gentle kindness had thrown him for a loop, Gemma’s quiet timidity perturbed him. Some seemed to be settling into the safe house far quicker than others and she seemed to fall into the latter category. In truth, Nico had no real obligation to care. He was here to keep them safe, not hold their hands. But that doesn’t stop him from approaching when he does finally find her lounging by the pool.

“Osman.” The greeting is accompanied by a nod of his head, heat from the sun seeping through the black material of his clothes, warm and welcome. He takes a seat on the side of the adjacent lounger, the scent of chlorine, sunscreen and cut grass hanging in the air. It takes some effort to force himself to relax his posture, the tension in his limbs far more natural to him. “How’s it going?” He glances at her briefly as if she were a frightened creature, not wishing for it to flee but rather wanting to prove that he wasn’t a threat. His attention fixes on the ripples of pool water, running a thumb over the stubble at the corner of his jaw. “I hear that the manager at Honeybell has accepted you for the receptionist role. I’ll have the Marshals office do a quick background check on the other staff there, but you should be good to start next week.”