@ckngpsrn asked “don’t fucking touch me.”
Silver winks at her, her gaze drawn taught as she catches an eyeful down the barrel of the gun pointed at her.
( And she’s thought herself something of a favorite of the fates that rope red strings into premonitions and truths—because look at her, alive still, after all these years. She’s cheated death one too many times, yes, but this can’t be the way she is meant to go. )
Sumi raises her hands in surrender, parted mauve lips inhaling a short breath that sounds sandpaper heavy along the silence after his words that is so close to shattering. It’s with conscious effort that she lifts her gaze from the weapon to the man boy holding it. She searches for an explanation, for the truth behind the threat that’s been extended from him to her. He is her client—Sumi is only obliging as he had requested. In his eyes, though, she finds no answers. Hooded under the curving wink of a lid that makes him look all too cat-like, there is nothing there for her to read other than the panicked anger that seems to lace in the way his threat was spit out.
“I have the files you wanted.” She starts, voice smoothed over like silk—appeasing by nature. ( A thief is good at making herself invisible to the searching eye; it makes her fluent in the act of stitching on a skin that the eye of the beholder wishes to see. ) “I’m just delivering them to you personally.” A pause, she swallows only to spare the dryness she feels itching at the walls of her throat. “Like you asked.”
“I was let in.” Sumi continues, parceling fact after fact in precise and clear explanations. She does not know what kind of rage clouds him into this anger, but she can only hope to pierce it so. “I’m not armed.” It’s a bold-faced lie, but it will keep her alive. She feels the cool metal kiss of where her own glock sits by her back, the pressed fold of a blade strapped to her leg. All too far from reach to save her now. For now, she only has her sharpest weapon—her tongue and the words it says.
“The files are in my bag.” Lending her gaze to the left where the bag sits, Sumi reigns back her gaze to him. “I won’t touch you. I’ll put them on the desk and leave.” Her throat threatens to close on her again, but she swallows and blinks once, twice. “Can I reach for it?” She leaves the question open-ended, even though there is only one answer that allows her to walk out of here.
