Window Shades and Ninja Muffins
Ella slept peacefully for the first time in weeks for exactly five hours. She awoke to a firm grip on her injured shoulder, the hand in question shaking her just shy of gently. “Ow, ow, fuck,” Ella snapped, flailing her other arm toward the intruder, good leg kicking out from under the blankets. Her eyes snapped open, the room a blur as they struggled to adjust. The hand immediately disappeared, and Ella scrabbled across the bed, whirling around once she’d planted her feet on the floor.
“Shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you,” Matt said, hands outstretched, palms facing her to show he meant no harm. Ella almost collapsed in relief.
“Jesus, Matt, you go missing for weeks and you decide to make your re-entrance by trying to shake my arm out of its socket?” Ella snapped, but there was no heat behind her words– only lingering exhaustion and a long-awaited calm.
“I’m sorry, I forgot what shoulder was injured–”
“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Ella reassured, rubbing absently at the joint, “where have you been?”
“I…uh…I got into a pretty bad fight with one of those other ninjas I told you about,” Matt said, taking a hesitant seat on the edge of her bed. “I’ve been healing– strict bedrest orders.”
“Orders that you’re obviously not following. Sitting on my bed right now does not count, so don’t even try it,” Ella said, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She shuffled over and plopped down beside Matt, leaning lightly against his shoulder.
“You were right about the armor…I need it,” Matt said, after a few minutes of comfortable silence. His voice was…off– not exactly on the verge of cracking, but unsteady.
“Knew I would be,” Ella replied, turning to look at him, and taking in the array of bruises and cuts across his face. From what she could see of his hands, they didn’t seem to be in much better condition.
“It– it was close this time, Ella– too close. A friend found me bleeding out in my living room, and it was– I thought that was it. I…I don’t think I’ve ever been that afraid,” Matt murmured, hands tightening on the bedspread. Ella stared hard at the side of his face, throat tight, jaw set. She reached down and placed one of her hands over Matt’s, squeezing softly.
“At least you still have your spleen,” Ella whispered, but the joke never quite found its way into her voice. A resounding ache blossomed throughout Ella’s chest, but it had nothing to do with her ribs.
“At least there’s that,” Matt conceded, slightly more lighthearted.
“So, to be crystal clear, you’re getting the armor, right?” Ella asked, because she had to hear a definitive answer. If she didn’t, she’d be making him some goddamn armor herself– or she’d resort to eBay.
“Yeah, I…know a guy,” Matt said, and Ella didn’t push for details.
“Will it look the same as your last suit, outfit thing?”
“I had something a little more…metaphorical in mind,” Matt replied, a small smile tugging at his lips.
“If I see any reports of a unicorn, or a Samurai Jack cosplayer, or anything of the like, you and I will be having a serious, serious talk,” Ella snapped, causing Matt to let loose a strained chuckle, back going rigid. He briefly clutched at his chest as the tension left his body.
“I don’t think you’ll be seeing anything that strange.”
“But you admit that it’s strange?”
“…yes?”
“You’re impossible, you and your goddamn irony,” Ella chastised, scoffing for dramatic effect. Matt’s smile was a bit wider this time– it tugged at the cuts along his jaw. After a few minutes the two laid back, resting shoulder to shoulder and staring up at the pockmarked ceiling. Ella’s air conditioner hummed in the background, nearly drowned out by the traffic noises below.
“Has anyone else stopped by?” Matt asked, and Ella didn’t need to ask who he meant.
“Wesley,” she said, and Matt fists clenched, before relaxing, palms flat against the blanket.
“Yeah?” Matt’s voice was a taught rubber band waiting to snap.
“He apologized; helped with my groceries. It was…odd,” Ella muttered, trying to drop the subject. She immediately knew that Wesley had something to do with the man who’d almost killed Matt– she really, really didn’t want dwell on that. He didn’t respond, only took a few deep breaths, one leg bouncing against the bed from where it dangled over the side.
“How’s the store doing?” Matt asked, and Ella didn’t like this change in conversation any better.
“It’s fine, I guess– business is a little slow because of the construction work and the fact that I’m only there for half a day now, which sucks because I’m losing my fucking mind staring at this ceiling for hours on end, and it’s grating on my nerves that the workers are suspiciously demolishing every building except for my store, so it’s almost like a sick waiting game, but, you know, fine,” Ella rambled, crossing her arms over her chest as if that’d help cover up the sudden rawness in her voice.
“I’m sorry–”
“Nope, no, you have nothing to be sorry for, I’m just an asshole who hates logic and logic hates me, and we hate each other, and now we’re here, and it– it sucks ass,” Ella laughed, trying her damnedest to make the tightness in her throat disappear.
“Sucks ass?” Matt echoed, sounding completely confused.
“What, you’ve never heard that saying before?” Ella asked, incredulous.
“No– I mean, I’ve heard of ‘sucks’, but never with ‘ass’ attached to it,” Matt said, as if the very idea was mildly repulsive.
“You sound like a ninety year old man–”
“I do not–”
“Oh, back in my day, we didn’t say ‘ass’, we said ‘buttocks’!” Ella mocked, dissolving into a fit of giggles at Matt’s outraged huff.
“I’m not ninety,” Matt murmured, kicking his foot against the side of the bed for emphasis.
“My bad, you’re eighty-five, I’m terrible with numbers,” Ella shot back, smiling when Matt turned to glare at her.
“I forgot how sarcastic you were,” Matt said, shaking his head.
“So, if you remembered how sarcastic I was, you wouldn’t have come to visit?”
“That’s not what I meant–”
“I’m wounded, Matt. I can’t believe you! You come into my apartment, disrespect my sarcasm–“
“It never ends,” Matt exhaled, equal parts amused and exasperated.
“Not really, no,” Ella said, entirely unapologetic. They laid in silence for a few more minutes, before Matt struggled into a seated position.
“I need to get going, I have work in the morning,” he said, sighing, before pushing himself to his feet.
“Work? I thought you were on bed rest?” Ella said, voice dangerously level as she sat up.
“Well, yes, but I can’t leave my friends– co-workers hanging for another day, and I can’t not work–”
“Matt,” Ella snapped, and his shoulders slumped.
“One more day and then I go back into work,” he reasoned, and Ella ran a hand through her hair, half-heartedly glaring.
“You better be super glued to the bed tomorrow,” Ella warned, quickly adding, “that sounds vaguely dirty, but–”
“I get it, I get it,” Matt said, waving off the rest of whatever Ella was going to say.
“Good,” Ella said, standing, and before Matt could move, enveloped him a hug– not a bear hug, though, because that wouldn’t have done either of them any favors. Matt hugged back immediately, fingers tangled in the fabric of her pajama top. Ella closed her eyes, content for all of five seconds, before her eyes snapped back open in simultaneous realization and confusion. “Wait, how did you get into my apartment?”
“Ninja, remember?” Matt chuckled, extracting himself from the hug and heading over to the window. Ella had never wanted to face-palm harder in her entire life.
“Oh my god, use the door like a goddamn normal person– how did you survive infancy?” Ella admonished, steering Matt out into the living room.
“Okay, okay, goodnight, Ella,” Matt said, batting her hands away before pulling up the hood of his sweatshirt.
“Goodnight,” she said, following the vigilante to the door and then closing it behind him. “And I thought that I didn’t have any self-preservation instincts, I’m Bear Grylls compared to that…that muffin,” Ella muttered, trudging back into her bedroom.
~~~~
“But it’s nighttime.”
“Yeah– what?” The man looked up from the can of chicken soup he was seriously overanalyzing, mouth half open in confusion.
“It’s 10 o’clock– at night,” Ella mused, leaning against the counter and placing her chin in her hand. She looked the man up and down, taking in his all black ensemble and shaved head, her eyes lingering on his Matrix-esque trench coat. But what had really caught her attention was the sunglasses. Today was Ella’s first full day, well, night, back at work, newly motivated after Matt’s surprise visit, and the weird shit just kept rolling in.
“…yeah?” the man drawled, obviously, terribly, confused.
“Did you get your eyes dilated?” Ella asked, silently reveling in the way his face scrunched up, head tilting slightly to the side in a “what the actual fuck” gesture. Not that Ella would ever admit it, but she was one-hundred percent certain that she was at least twenty-five percent sadist. Making people squirm was just too much damn fun.
“No? What are you–”
“The sunglasses. You’re inside, at night, and you’re wearing sunglasses. Either you have two black eyes, are incomprehensibly hungover, or you got your eyes dilated at the optometrist,” Ella listed, eyes narrowing as she tried to spot any trace of bruising under the glasses.
“None of the above,” the man deadpanned, turning his attention back to the soups. They passed the next few minutes in silence, and Ella was growing more and more certain that he wasn’t looking for the right blend of broth and cubed chicken pieces.
“You have a…migraine,” Ella stated, watching as the man’s shoulder’s tensed. He turned and gave Ella a tight smile, before walking further down the aisle toward the door. He stopped about halfway to the exit, and began ‘examining’ the boxed macaroni. Ella’s smile was absolutely devilish. “You know this is a very small store, right?” The man didn’t respond, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. “As in, I can still see you and I know that you can hear me–”
“Are you always this chatty with your customers?” the man groused, head whipping around to face Ella, who only grinned wider in response.
“Yes,” she said, without pause, causing the man to sigh deeply as he pinched the bridge of his nose, probably trying to maintain his composure.
“Look, I’m waiting for someone, and I’d prefer to wait for him in silence,” he replied, voice now as tight as his smile.
“Then you should be waiting for him in a library,” Ella said, shrugging.
“Do you have a problem?” the man asked, unnervingly calm. He stalked down the aisle with a measured stride, and placed his hands down onto the counter directly in front of Ella. She glanced down at his hands, sniffed, then looked back up at his face. “Wait a minute, that’s a pretty nice jawline– no, we are not starting this again, you thirsty motherfucker,” Ella thought to herself, shaking her head and standing up straight.
“My only problem is trying to figure out your problem, because there has to be a problem if you’re wearing sunglasses at night,” Ella reasoned, crossing her arms. The man huffed out a breath, before reaching up and removing his sunglasses. There weren’t any bruises, no dilated pupils, and no visible signs of pain at the bright fluorescents.
“See? No problem here,” he said, shooting Ella a placating smile that was more than a little rough around the edges.
“So, are they a part of your…aesthetic or something?” Ella asked, hands gesturing vaguely at his person, eyes lingering a fraction of a second too long on his chest. That button down fit him way too nicely…
“You could say that,” the man chuckled, putting his sunglasses back on.
“Do you think that Keanu pulled off the trench coat look better or do you think you could take him down on a runway?”
“Wait, who–”
“No one, it’s not important, anywho, it’s badass. I give it a solid ten out of ten– no, nine out of ten for the temporary sunglasses confusion,” Ella said, and the man nodded slowly, clearly lost.
“Thanks…” he muttered, absentmindedly adjusting his coat.
“Who’re you waiting for?” Ella asked, and the man stared, gaze hard, for a few seconds past what was considered comfortable, before answering.
“An associate,” he said, shifting so that he was now leaning his side against the counter, body angled towards her.
“An associate– fancy, fancy,” Ella teased, and the man’s eyebrow twitched just slightly. Ella preferred to think it stemmed from amusement rather than annoyance.
“If your associate knows any other associates that need a side job at a convenience store, I’d truly appreciate it if you could pass the word along–”
“I’m not going to recruit workers for you–”
“Not recruit, just nudge in this direction–”
“No.”
“Fine, couldn’t hurt to ask. I’m a woman of opportunity, what can I say?” Ella acceded, holding her hands up in a placating manner. That seemed to catch the man’s attention, as he visibly perked up, again removing his sunglasses.
“What kind of opportunity?” he asked, and Ella had heard that tone too many times to know exactly where this was going.
“Okay, first off, the way you asked that was a little skeevy, not going to lie, and I’m into reasonable opportunities, not any of the sketchy, crime, murder opportunities, but I am flattered,” Ella said, and the man looked completely taken aback.
“How did you–”
“It’s not the first time I’ve had this conversation, not with you, obviously, and I’m not interested…?” Ella explained, trailing off at the end to leave the man room to introduce himself. He missed the hint, brain still trying to process wether or not she was a valid threat. “You know what, you have the choice between ‘sunglasses’ and ‘trench-coat’ right now, and those aren’t the worst names I’ve given out, so you should be grateful–”
“Shades.”
“What? No, I said sunglasses–”
“My name is Shades,” the man clarified, and Ella balked, before dropping her head into her hands.
“I don’t get it,” Ella mumbled into her palms, before all but launching herself back up, leaning across the counter conspiratorially. “What is it with you guys and the names? To be fair, I was the one who came up with Bandana Head, but never mind that, why in the ever living hell would you name yourself Shades? You do understand that if someone didn’t see you and the whole aesthetic thing you have going on, they could just as easily assume that you mean window shades?” Ella took a breath, expression imploring and honestly curious. Shades stared. And stared. And stared. If it was one thing that Ella could not bear, it was endless, pointed staring. “Come on, bud, you can’t leave me hanging like that–”
“You’re something,” he said, cutting off her ramble in its tracks.
“I mean, I’m many somethings, so you’re not wrong,” Ella quipped, earning a charming half-smile.
“Can you keep a lookout for me? Nothing illegal,” Shades inquired, and Ella was immediately suspicious.
“For who…?”
“He goes by Luke Cage. I don’t think he’s been around here, but…” Shades said, pulling out his phone and bringing up a picture of the man. Ella had never seen him, and said as much.
“Why do you want to find him?” Ella asked, and the man’s smile grew.
“Business,” he replied, and Ella wagged a finger, starting to shake her head.
“Nope, nuh-uh, I need details, more specifically reasons, before I’m designated 'look out' of any kind,” Ella said, and Shades nodded, pocketing his phone.
“That’s smart,” he conceded, putting his sunglasses back on.
“I’m nothing if not smart– well, no, that’s a big fucking lie with a capital L, but don’t tell anyone that, just tell them I’m smart,” Ella blurted, and Shades laughed.
“You sound like you deal with criminals often,” Shades observed.
“Not often, but an advanced version of ‘sometimes’,” Ella said.
“Understood,” Shades said, right before his phone started ringing. He stepped away from the counter to answer it. “Yes…Yes…Alright.”
“That was probably the shortest conversation I’ve ever heard,” Ella noted, watching as he adjusted his coat, pulling down the sleeves.
“My employer likes to keep things brief. If you change your mind about what opportunities you’re open to, ask around Harlem for me. I think there could be an opening sooner or later…?” he said, waiting for her name.
“Will do, and…Chair,” Ella said, and Shades looked about as unimpressed as any human being has ever been.
“Your name is not ‘chair’,” Shades deadpanned, crossing his arms.
“How do you know?” she said, and he titled his head back, eyes probably scrunched shut as he faced the ceiling. Ella would be forever grateful that she’d lost her name tag the day before.
“You’d probably be more trouble than you’re worth,” he muttered, before spinning of his heel and walking toward the exit.
“That’s probably the smartest thing you’ve said tonight!” Ella called after him, making him pause, hand on the door.
“You sure about that name?” he asked, and Ella sighed. She had been kinda savage with the poor guy…
“Ella. And I’m only telling you on the premise that you purchase something on your next visit, not just stare down my soups like you’re willing them to combust, and for the fact that you did not almost bleed out on my floor,” Ella stated, and Shades shook his head again.
“You’ve had people bleed out on your floor?”
“Almost bleed out– almost. That’s an important qualifier,” Ella snapped, indignant.
“There’s not guarantee that I’ll be back,” the man stated, pushing the door open a smidge, letting in a cool gust of night air.
“Nope, no guarantee at all,” Ella said, smile blinding, “unless you like to be verbally assaulted, because I’m really good at that–”
“Have a good night, Ella,” Shades sighed.
“You should really consider changing your name to sunglasses!” Ella shouted as the door was swinging shut. “It’s more straightforward!” Ensuring that he was actually gone, Ella plopped back down onto her stool and whipped out her phone to Google Luke Cage. “Hello Shades, I’m Chair. Meet my friend, Spoon,” Ella chuckled to herself, before beginning her search.