#idiocie

LUCILLE.          her hands slowed as he approached the counter.          her hands   stilled completely   as he took a seat on one of the bar stools and began to pour himself a cup of coffee.          the man sighed,   looking over at the jars of cream and sugar briefly before tipping the cup at his lips.          when his gaze rose to met hers,   it was with a   steady but somewhat dead   look.

LIAM:     good morning,   lucille. LUCILLE:     good morning,   liam.

WHAT YOU WANT FROM ME               i’ve torn bodies apart to find.          ava did not notice the   drop of blood   on her right shoe until she’d already arrived at the hotel.          against the pristine white marble floor,   the shine of her dark leather shoe stood out fashionably   &   the perfect circle of russet glared under her keen eye.          she waited patiently in the lobby,   her heart - beat keeping perfect time,   counting down to the   second   she knew her benefactor would descend the grand stairs to greet her.          this was not extraordinary event or day ;     but the contents of the papers and notes safe in the bag at her side were   ANYTHING BUT ORDINARY.          the woman she was meeting kept a room here and would take the elevator down to the second floor where she would then leave the elevator only to make her entrance down the staircase.          it was this sort of   showmanship   that did not sit well with ava,   but she was hardly in the position to   harp   about such peeves.         -------------         AH,  THERE SHE WAS NOW :         the woman,   beauty &  terror.

OLGA.          she found the sound of clicking gears comforting.          the breeze flying through her hair was pleasant,   as well.           for a short while,   she let her bicycle coast down the block,   past the rows and rows of elegant townhouses.          she turned her head from side to side and surveyed the neighbourhood.             it was a quiet evening.          there was no one else milling about,   coming or going.           no one stirred behind the darkened windows of the houses she passed either ;     it was very quiet.            although she supposed that that was how jade liked it.           and so,   that was how she kept the neighbourhood.

it was no secret among them that the thief owned this neighbourhood in its entirety :     every block,   every plot,  every street.           it was all controlled by jade.           THIS  WAS  HOW  A  MASTER  CRIMINAL  KEPT  HERSELF  SAFE.             but hardly nothing could prevent the occasional visit from an old friend.

she slowed as she approached jade’s home,   back - pedalling and turning gently into the small walkway.           the house was nothing special in and of itself ;     but jade had good tastes and had allowed the ancient vines to grow artfully over the bleached brick.           she kept the glass clean of grime and the metal clean of rust.           potted plants lined the steps leading up and onto the small landing before the front door.           it was picture - perfect,  BUT  SOMETHING  ABOUT  IT  ALSO  TOLD  OLGA  THAT  SHE  WASN’T  IN.           she leaned her bike against the side and stepped up to the front door.           she pressed her ear against the door,   and   ah,   that was it :     THERE  WAS  NO  MUSIC  PLAYING.          and it was nearly six in the evening!           olga trotted down the steps and then,   cupping her face with her hands,   peered into the front window.           but the curtains were drawn half - way shut and she couldn’t see anything save for an empty dining table.           she stepped back and   screamed   when she saw a face hovering right behind hers in the dark glass.

JADE:     the mornings here are still so cold,   so dark.          i bring a candle outside with me for light and a heavy sweater around my shoulders for warmth.          somewhere below the horizon,   the sun begins its ascent,   the stray first beams of light already touching the dark sky,   tracing the clouds and scaring away the moon.          but for now,   the world is quiet.     for now,   THE WORLD IS STILL.          jack comes up from behind and stands at my side.          he is unusually quiet and still ;     the others never get to see him this way.          i’m not sure whether he even   wants   them to ever see him this way.          a cup of tea is placed at my elbow,   steam curling from its surface and in its dark reflection is an old memory of a lake,   an early morning,   fog,   and a shout to start the day.

“     i’ve been thinking about what you said yesterday.     it’ll take some   PERSUASION          -          and honestly,   i don’t think either of us are up to the task right now.     ”