#experthiese

He was in Germany. As early as late November is when the weary city starts to come to life with lights, and the people become a smidge more alive and excited, the younger more than the ones restlessly walking around the markets. The rooftops were slick with ice that had melted just a little in the morning,and now laid over with greyish snow. It was deceptive, how warm he thought his jacket would be in this weather. The wetness in the air makes the cold pierce through thin lined suits, even with layers to add thickness. The smallest hole let in cold air, even the slits where his buttons were pushed into their loose slots, seemed like open rips, straight to his skin. His cotton tie was cold to the touch when he brushed a snowflake off of it,belly against the slanted roof, where he'd had to clear a spot for himself to avoid higher chances of hypothermia, especially with the wind picking up. Unfortunately, without a mop, he couldn't prevent the pack of cigarettes in his pocket from getting soaked. The ache from the cold, and in his stomach was ignored, in favor of following a head in the crowd. It would be a while until Munich would clean up the festivities and this glitzy shut-in would disappear for another year. He came early. At the time, he was working down a hit list for a client that was going to pay him well for swiftness. It was a revenge that wasn't his own, and therefore, paid handsomely. But there's always someone with roughly the same amount of cash, looking to take out a rival. Two birds, and one bullet flung in his direction that made him skitter away from his rifle. He was younger back then, jumping and bailing on an operation would save his life faster than trying to locate where the bullets were firing from. The problem with being so reactive is that you miss key details, and for him, it was the patch of re-frozen ice that he stepped down onto, and his foot giving in at just the wrong moment. Spinal damage would've been catastrophic if he'd fallen off, but his ankle refused to agree. It made him crawl back in agony to the window, narrowly missing bullet after bullet. Managing the steps was a rush of adrenaline, to get out fast, and use all the weight he could afford onto the banister. A pole just outside the door kept him upright for seconds, until the very moment a familiar face came into his view, now in high definition and barely affording him a once-over before taking a flourishing step ahead. To anyone else, he looked taken aback by her chic beauty on a blistering cold day, so badly, that he fell again, into the hands that would lay him into a warm bed, cuing six weeks of recovery.