Natural orientation: Not lost in the woods

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Natural orientation: Not lost in the woods

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Four days, he had to remind himself, only four. Put up with Adam's bullshit, take his bloody orders and complete them, and then he'd never have to subject himself to this sort of humility ever again. His current task was killing a woman who hadn't payed back her due loans to Chambers after he assisted in helping kickstart her business. Come now, Graves, it's only fair. She's successful, and has had plenty of time to pay me back. Be a good boy, and I might reward you. Shoo. He didn't want to. Unlike Adam, Everett had a few morals to name, and one of them was not killing women.
Maybe he could say he got distracted, or just say that she had an envelope with a check for him waiting when he got there, so no killing had to take place. Adam had thought ahead, and had told him that if he didn't do as he were told, he'd shortly be revisiting the tanks. The thought alone was enough to make his heart falter in its normal, steady pattern. Still, he didn't say he had to report back by a certain hour. That meant he would prolong this unfortunate task as long as he could.
Absently, he thumbed the lid of the paper coffee cup, drumming his fingers on the table beside the open paperback, something he'd bought in a vain attempt to get his mind off the whole thing. Hearing a noise, something that might have been somebody prompting him or trying to get by him, he looked up with an owlish sort of curiosity in his eyes. "Yes?"
I'll be your Recovery Two for you, Recovery One. ;D
...Excuse me? Is this...some sort of pickup line, or something?
You'll have to excuse me if it doesn't work. The last time I dealt with someone calling themselves Recovery Two, she shot me in the back and left me to die.