THE WORLD AFIRE.

          “one of our clients just asked me to take on for what he prefaced as a VERY IMPORTANT JOB — watching their dog while they go on vacation. and honestly, that rich bastard can stay in the carribean for all the fucks i give, the pup is mine now. i’ve even learned that i’ve still got an excellent shot while holding a five-pound dog in my hand… maybe i ought to use that as an ice breaker on dates.”

         “if ONE MORE PERSON asks me to rid their laptop of a virus they got from browsing too many sketchy porn sites, i’m gonna lose my mind — remember, i can access your search history in a snap.”

“Please. I have more class than that. I was proposing a meet up after our blaze of glory deaths. Obviously.”

“Interesting to note that the coldest place on Earth, a warzone and hippy central take precedence over Ohio & Wisconsin. Very interesting. I wonder if you’ll be singing those praises after next month’s extraction operation you’re on.”

“You? Defecting? Please.” He scoffed. “I’ve seen the way you put away pizza. No way in hell you’re givin’ that up anytime soon.”

“Hell is just a sauna, or so they say.” Leo shrugged. “We should carpool on our way down there. Save on gas.”

“Worry not.” Eliza leant forward on the bartop, the shoulder of her grey t-shirt slipping down the curve of her tanned shoulder just enough to tempt, tease and draw the gaze of Val. ( She’s reminded of a moment earlier in the week she did the exact same move with another girl, just as pretty too but she pushes that thought from her mind, intent on focuses on the here and the now. ) “It’d take a lot more for someone like you to blow her chance.”

“Oh, how I love these precious bonding moments we have together, Val.” Leo snorted, shaking his head. “They truly are something.” He shrugged a moment later. “I’m gonna organize a mission just to send you to Ohio one of these days. Watch you flounder in that hell-hole — that can be my Secret Santa present right there.”

He snorted a laugh. “Yeah, the old mob wife probably would be.” He knows that the mocking tone in her voice suggests otherwise, but this is the game the two of them play — they give as good as they get. “If either of us make it to the next life we should ask her.”

“I could’ve sworn you were at least under thirty, nonna.” Or maybe she just didn’t watch movies, he wasn’t quite sure. “I prefer less witnesses to my crimes. As much as it would have absolutely made my fucking day, I’m far too pretty to end up in a prison cell for manslaughter.”

“thus the never-ending cycle of cheap alcohol and the desire to drink continues.”

“Everything’s fine for the weaklings until they cross me.” Dagmara said firmly. “I’m waiting for someone worthy enough to meet my anger and they’d be entitled with the honor of being my first kill for this month.”

“It was an offer. I’m just nice like that.”

Hartley doesn’t take the time to celebrate. It’s possibly the first honest hit they’ve gotten on Val, but the fight is still going. If they get complacent, this fight is over before it really begins. They want to make this fight last; they want to take the seasoned assassin down.

They’re caught off guard when Vallyka pulls their legs out from under them, but they catch up quickly. One hand winds around the woman’s neck, and they pull her down with them. Hartley’s back hits the floor hard, leaving them breathless and slightly disoriented. Still, they aren’t out of the game. In the time between grabbing Vallyka’s neck and hitting the ground, Hartley had slipped the switchblade they’d been hiding out of its sheath, and now holds it pressed against Vallyka’s abdomen. They don’t push or make any move to stab or cut her, but it’s common knowledge that they will.

“Fight dirty, right?”

Vallyka puts her full weight into throwing Hartley off balance, even if it means they tackle her, dragging her down with them---she doesn’t fight it, instead falling with them, driving the recruit’s back against the floor. The breath knocked out of them, for a moment Val thinks that’s it, but then---ah, there it was, the sharp point of a knife pressing through the fabric of her shirt. 

She almost smiles, at that. “I was wondering when you were gonna play that card,” she hisses through her teeth, reaching down quick as a striking viper, fingers wrapped around Hartley’s hand, crushing it in her grip to get them to release the knife, simultaneously kicking off the floor and back, putting distance between them with her hand still tight on Hartley’s, wrenching back her arm.

“Oh, don’t sell yourself short, sweets.” She grinned, warm brown eyes darting over the planes of Val’s face. The noise around the two of them faded into a dull buzz, something Eliza could easily ignore if she truly wanted too and boy — did she want too. Coming out tonight had been with the sole express purpose of forgetting herself and her grief, not basking in it any longer than she already did. “I might be impressed. Your eyes after all, are very pretty.” She winked. “Can’t know unless you try, right?”