#pizzatheif

Her eyes flash to the opposite window, the one facing the street. The empty street. Her hands are suspiciously empty. To her credit, the smile doesn’t even so much as twitch. 

“But, um.” Mercy rubs the back of her neck. Her jacket lifts, revealing a crummy gray t-shirt with some fresh red stains. “‘Coupla Valentino boys jumped me at that gas station down by 7th. I made it out, but the cupcake — ” A crack in her armor. Visions of vanilla frosting spattering, slow motion, to the pavement. She shakes her head, sniffs. Does her best to get over it. “Anyway. Wanna help me get your car back? I’ll buy you a slushie, too, while we’re at it. Saw ‘em headed towards the warehouse district.” A scoff. “Probably tryna hide your — ” (read: some rich guy from Noho) “ — car until it’s safe to pawn. Dicks.” 

Different day, same Merce. What a big, sexy hypocrite.

       “What seems like magic is sometimes science we don’t yet understand.”

“What.” The word falls flat between them, a rumbled statement that almost seems to echo against the walls of they alley in which they stand, accompanied by the hum of traffic just beyond. He’s half hoping that the other man is having a laugh, using the knowledge of his own bloody inferiority to turn himself into a joke, but as fingers dig into the collar of his momentary ally’s shirt, Lucas swallows the hard truth - he had knowingly hired an idiot... and now is the moment the universe asks him to pay for it. “I’d rethink that if I were you, Hugo.” His grip of cotton tightens, fabric twisting as the former agent presses forward, only stopping once the other is thoroughly stuck between his own imposing frame and the rough brick of a wall at his back.  

Rei squints at Hugo approaching the shop, mug of tea in hand. The shop technically doesn’t open for another half hour, but she needs to get in early enough to power everything up before opening. She listens to her computer whirr, sipping her tea as Hugo draws closer. Once he’s nearly to the door, she circles her desk and pulls it open, propping it open with her hip and foot.

            ‘ that was really interesting, but i need to go listen to my cells die. ‘

          ‘ got a light? ‘ she didn’t usually bother asking strangers that sort of thing given her healthy sense of paranoia, but it was hard to feel particularly intimidated by anyone who would willingly walk around with that kind of mustache and she needed a smoke bad. her lighter was held up in her hand, flicked a few times to show that it was dead.

She's digging frantically in her bag, but at some point has lost one of her necessary tools for her shoes. Sure, someone will have something at the studio, but she's already running late and would rather not waste time asking around and then using it. It's like a blessing from God when she glances up to search for someone nearby to ask and sees @pizzatheif.