The "ploop" of that drop caught her attention. She turned ant stared up at the collected precipitation. She stared hard into the forming drop.
"This is your fault, he never would have left if he didnt think there was a way to bring you back."
Another dorp fell, as if defying her anger.
About year he was gone now. Left with only the words "I will find her". She has moved on now. To possibly better, 'employment'.
"Why? Even though you have gone to the light, your presence still tortures him."
Her shadow suddendly grew and shrunk in an incoming light. No matter how often he came, it still surprised her.
She stared at the black sedan with mirrored windows, waiting for the tell- tale sign... there. The fiery red mound with a tail like lava. "Reno"
Even after all these months she wasn't used to his presence. She watched as Reno approched the patio like area of the entrance. A spatter of blood marring his wrinkled navey blue suit at the shoulder. His EMR swaying diligently at his waist. Obvoisly he had just finished some "field work" as he called it.
"Hey darlin' can I get drink? Your the only one that'll let me at this hour."
The same thing he said every night he came. The same thing he said the first night he had come. She bowed her head and walked in aswering the same way she had answered every time before, including the first night.
"What'll it be?"
"Vodka... on the rocks, keeps the emotions down." Same thing he always answers.
She strolled accross the bar and prepared his drink, same as always.
He suantered... no not suantered. There really was no way to describe his walk. It was a stroll with a purpose, and an air of confidence. It Showed his knowledge of death and his regret of deeds. It was a sentence. An acknowledgment of what he was. An end.
Anytime she saw him elsewhere he had a jester like attitide with an embedded seriuosness that somehow worked. Yet when he...moved... into her establishment, she could see the burden of his soul. Truly the only person with more emotional problems than her. She stared into his aquamarine eyes, waiting for him to retell the tale, the same way it would be put into his report in the morning, very official, and courteus.
"The target would not be roused form his barricade,"
She could'nt remember why she allowed him in the first time.
" My partner and myself decided to go in through the third storey window and work our way down."
She doesn't know why she lets him keep coming back.
" They were heavily built up through out the building"
All she knows is that she waits forty-five minutes after closing time for him.
" They were well armed, but not well trained, I was unable to get a count of 'setbacks' to our objective".
He always shows forty- four minutes after.
" Target was barricaded in a room with a fully automatic."
From there goes the ritual form the car to the counter.
"His sprays were wild, and panick induced."
He spills his mind in the most serios manner she has ever seen from him.
" We easily manuevered in and got him in a pincer. He is alive... and is no longer a threat to the WRO intrest."
She spills her day, no matter how irrelevant.
" Another normal day, I got a seven percent profit."
She has learned to talk to him like he understands.
"One client showed his lack of inhibitions while inebriated."
It was like forplay for them.
" He was quickly and painfully removed of his temporary tenant status."
The true action immediatly followed. Their eyes would caress each others skin for time uncountable. Shot after shot after shot. The moans and groans of love making without ever touching skin. Simply two souls intertwined in an act of understanding. They shared their life stories with flickers of eyes, slight movements of the hands and almost inaudible moans and groans.
"Hmph."
"Erh."
After a few hours of such intimate contact, the closing ritual would begin. He would stand and drop the the bill with a fifty percent tip. She would eye the money as he stared, waiting.
Her brunette locks would cover her face as she slid the maney back to him.
She could only see his molten hair as he turned his back, pocketed the money and procceded to leave. She would watch, infatuated with his figure, and excited by his movements. Waiting for the moment that had her on her toes till his next visit.
He stops at the doorway. His back towards her, left hand casually gripping the handle. His right hand stuffed in his trouser pocket as if in anger. The fiery waves moving, only enough to show the smirk on his face.
"You would make a great Turks Yo. Maybe someday, I'll comin looking for a partner."
The door sqeuaks closed, and she is left with a warm feeling through out her body form the mutliple meanings.
She then waits five minutes in the silence, always hoping he'll come back to 'recruit'. Sadly, he really is too much of a gentle man for that. She then washes out the two glasses, turns off the lights and before heading upstairs states,
"Maybe... Ill apply before that time."
She then climbs the stairs to a cold empty bed she wishes was filled by the one person who seems to care.
A/N: coming back from 'fighting the good fight', then watching certain movies while enjoying cheap vodka leads to thoughts like this. Memories of ways me and my wife interacted in a time long past.
" You'd make an outstanding Turks, someday, i might recruit you."