Damage Control

Exhaling, Jose was preparing to step into the hallway when the ding of the elevator sounded and he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. He instinctively backed into the stairwell, letting the door fall almost closed as a young man in uniform walked past.

Stilling the urge to curse, he whispered over the wire, "Jean, we have a hotel employee. He just walked onto the third floor."

The red suit was quickly outpacing his line of sight as his brother's voice reached him, immediate and clipped. "Then grab him."

"Stay hidden," he murmured to Henrietta. A brief impression of wide eyes followed him as he loudly walked into the hallway.

"Hey, excuse me!" All but yelling, he called toward the unaware employee.

The young man was a footstep from the corner, but conditioned hospitality had him spinning around, tumbling out a ready, "Yes, sir?"

As soon as he saw the attendant turning, Jose twisted his own head away, partially hiding his features as he noisily continued speaking. "I really think I've gotten mixed up here. The lobby doesn't seem to be anywhere I'm looking."

Steps drew nearer, and he felt the tightness around his spine ease as the boy answered. "The lobby is on the first floor, sir."

"That would make sense," Jose mused, meandering toward the elevator as the boy trailed him, trying to make polite eye contact. "This elevator go down to it?"

"Ye -"

"Or is there another elevator?"

"There is another elevator on the opposite wing, but -"

"Would the stairs be better?"

"To take the stairs down -"

"Are there stairs by the other elevator as well?"

"There are. They also -"

"Which ones go to the lobby? All of them?" He'd been gesturing, using the movement to further distract from his face as the bellhop's bewilderment grew.

"...I can show you down."

Perfect.

"That's probably best," he laughed self-deprecatingly, running a hand through his hair, crossing his arm by his profile. "How do we get there?"

"The elevator, sir." The boy pushed the appropriate button and the doors slid open.

Jose kept his head turned from the young man, grateful that the elevator wasn't lined with mirrors. "Is that wood paneling?"

"Well...we use wood polish on it."

It was clear that the hotel orientation had not covered the interior design of the elevators, and the answers to Jose's laundry list of questions got more flustered as they descended. There was a whole slew of inquiries about local festivals and markets that Jose had waiting in the wings, but leaving Henrietta on her own was weighing on him. Every risk and chance catastrophe that could occur was seeming more likely the further he got from her. Getting the attendant tied up with something on the first floor before making it back to the clean up crew on the third would be his priority.

"Here it is!" He exclaimed as he strode off the elevator, throwing his words over his shoulder to ensure the boy's attendance. "Where's the main desk? Right? Straight ahead?"

"This way, sir," said the employee with resigned patience.

"That didn't take long at all," Jose complimented as he scanned for something breakable or spillable that he could make a mess with. "I might still be lost if not for -"

His hip plowed into a tall terra cotta pot and it tipped precariously to the side. Jose dove after it, ensuring it went all the way over and swung in a wide arc, scattering dark, rich earth the entire way. Clumsily, he let it clatter to the floor, not quite hard enough to break; he didn't want to hazard getting delayed paying for damages.

"I am so sorry!" He exclaimed, dropping to his knees and scooping at the soil, spreading it further on the floor tiles. "After you've already inconvenienced yourself, I'll make sure to help you with this."

With a blink, the hotel attendant seemed reluctantly adjusted to the incompetence of his guest and marched forward. "Please, sir, I'll get that taken care of."

Jose made a few ineffectual protests, then allowed himself to be nudged away from the overturned plant. "Well, are you sure?"

"Yes, sir," returned to boy with determined civility.

"I...then...Thank you. I appreciate it. What was your name?"

"Emilio," the employee brightened at the possibility of getting praised to management.

"Thank you, Emilio. You've been very helpful." Jose wound his way around the rest of the potted decorations to get to the line at the main desk.

Eyeing the guests for a moment, he stepped next to a man with four pieces of luggage. "I've been really impressed with all the attendants here. Emilio especially."

"Is that so?" The man's attention shifted to him idly.

"He took care of all my issues with the patience of a saint. If I were you, I'd request Emilio to transport all those suitcases for you."

"Emilio you said?"

"Emilio," confirmed Jose with a smile. He drifted closer to the desk, plucked some type of informational pamphlet from a display, and inconspicuously strolled back to the stairwell.

He was still for a moment after the door closed behind him. A foot on the first step, he listened for any strays in the area. Assured of his solitude, he spoke over the connection. "Jean, it's been dwelt with. We're clear for at least five more minutes."

"We'll be done in two. Collect Henrietta and head out."

"Acknowledged."

Loping lightly up the stairs, Jose softly called to Henrietta just before he was to the third floor. As he drew level with where he'd left her, he could see the relief in every line of her small body. The child stepped toward him, gun familiarly held to the side as he scanned her and the surroundings, persuading himself nothing had happened in his absence.

Jose touched base with his brother once more, guaranteeing that no ten second game changer had happened in either of their vicinities. The room where Rico had successfully killed the political target and his attendant was less than a minute from being cleared. With their consistent proficiency, the crew would be laying the final clues among the blood to trace the assassinations back to the chosen terrorist faction even as they briskly removed all evidence of Rico's involvement. If Jose could avoid taking Henrietta into that stained space, he would.

Henrietta stood back, feet square under her hips, as Jose had taught her. The light in her room was red as the sun set, reminding her of the coat she'd been given when they'd gone stargazing. In the warm space, she quietly watched Rico's attempts.

Before her, Rico tentatively moved the bow across the violin. Slower than the marked time, simple and straightforward, a screech marring the rhythm more than once. Yet, Rico was playing completely on her own.

"You're getting better," said Henrietta with soft approval.

Rico straightened, smiling till her eyes closed and she missed the next note completely. Carefully, she readjusted her hold and continued. "As long as I can play something."

"For that boy you met?"

"I might not see him again," Rico smiled. They didn't often work in the same place, especially after one of them had killed someone. "Because of the job, though, I met him and know he's there."

"Do you want to see him again?"

"I think if I did..." She paused, feeling the strings under her fingers. Her own fingers, which she could move as she liked, attached to her own body that could go to new places and see new people. "It would make me happy."

A/N: For the longest time, I was incensed at Jean for drilling in the elimination of witnesses to Rico's MO and then not putting more effort into making sure there weren't random innocents wandering onto the floor of their political assassination. Then, however, I watched that episode again and realized JOSE IS RIGHT THERE! He doesn't have his gun out, he's not moving around strictly incognito, and his reaction is, "huh, what should I do about this witness slowly walking down the hallway to where we've just offed two people in their hotel room?" DISTRACT HIM, YOU IDIOT! This was a cathartic fic.