09. Whist;
(v.) to hush or silence
The coffee shop around the corner was good enough and gave them the kick they needed to face the day ahead. The croissants weren't too bad but flaked all over their clothes and floor and stuck to his stubble as he ate.
She wasn't sure where he sat on the pain-au-chocolat so stuck to their usual. A couple of cappuccinos and some pastries to go. She'd swapped her Polish for Hungarian and had now finally reached Romanian.
When Casi had left him, he was still sleeping. One leg under the quilt with the other out in the cold of the room, hairs slightly raised as a draft made its way from the window that wouldn't close properly. Rotten wood and peeling paint making it stiff, even for a man with a metal arm.
Half of his underwear on show and a hand resting on his chest. His other arm completely hidden from view under the white sheets. His face was still, dark eyelashes shadowed the faintest freckles on his cheeks. It was the most peaceful he had been all night as she'd hardly slept in between his shouts. At one point he'd jolted awake, rubbed the vision away from his eyes and looked over at her, where she'd closed hers to pretend she'd been asleep all along.
She was heading down their street now, it was quiet and still shadowed by the buildings around her as the sun was low. It must have rained in the night as the paints were slightly darker from the damp and there was a shine to the cobbles.
It was nice, in another world, she could have been on holiday. The pistol in its holster reminded her she wasn't.
Then, she suddenly felt something cold flood inside of her before her neck started pulsing from a needle.
She turned quickly to see a man who grabbed her. The cold of a metal collar soothed her skin as it clasped shut around her neck. It was heavy and her body swayed, croissants and coffees falling to the floor.
Casi caught short glimpses of what happened around her between long blinks before her eyes stopped opening.
Then it was dark.
*