Disclaimer: I do not own Black Mask (Roman Sionis), although I wish I did. All I own is Jenna Dixon.

100 Themes

-This is only the first five prompts. I will do this in installments of five. Enjoy!-

Leave

She slapped him, hard, across the face, screaming at him, begging him to leave her alone. But, he couldn't bring himself to walk away from her. The tears that stained her face and angry words that she spit at him would have made him furious, would have made him storm away, but this time he stayed. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders as they shook and hugged her close to him. She sobbed into his shirt until she didn't have the strength to cry anymore. Her shoulders still trembled, so he held on. She eventually pulled away from him, sniffling, and looked him in the eyes. Her hand, still wet from her own tears, touched the cheek that she had slapped. An apologetic look crossed her face and she gently thanked him for staying.

Rum

He had invited her to share a shot of rum with him to celebrate her first successful heist. She had politely accepted, but neglected to mention that she had never had alcohol in her life. He poured her a shot and slid the glass over to her across the table. She lifted it gingerly and sniffed it, pouting slightly. He took his and threw it back with a small grimace. Setting it down, he watched her, amused by her inspection of her glass. She shrugged and tipped the amber liquid down her throat. He was expecting her to gag, cough, or puke from the taste, but instead she just scrunched up her nose, closed her eyes and whimpered softly. The expression was unbearably cute. He was, for once in his life, thankful for his black face, so she couldn't see him blush.

Fire

His eyes were stinging from the smoke in the air. The explosion had thrown him clear of his desk and slammed him into the wall adjacent. He could feel the broken ribs when he breathed. He coughed raggedly and he stood, glancing around the room for the others. Two of his men were nearby, both face down. He could see the shrapnel in their backs and the blood pooling around them and he knew that they were dead. He covered his mouth with his sleeve and was starting to leave the room when he suddenly remembered. The girl. Jenna was in the room, too. He turned around and tried to peer through the smoke to find her. He called her name, but it just came out a hoarse wheeze from his raw throat. He staggered back towards his desk, which was now in pieces. Breathing was becoming even harder now and he was beginning to see spots. He stumbled and almost fell, but he felt something, or someone, catch his arm. He glanced back and sighed in relief. A bruised and bloodied Jenna Dixon held his arm in both hands. She tipped her head in the direction of the door and pulled him towards it. His vision was blurring and he placed his other hand on her shoulder to balance himself. He didn't remember much else, but soon he was outside. The clean fresh air felt like bliss in his tortured lungs. He collapsed on the sidewalk, taking quick, shallow breaths. He only barely realized that his head was being cushioned by someone's lap. He opened his eyes to see the girl again. She smiled down at him and laid a hand on his chest. She told him quietly to try and breath deeper, which he did, but he still felt unconsciousness taking him. Right before the darkness flooded over him, he reminded himself to thank her for saving his life.

Knife

The racket that came from downstairs made him start, his hand clenching on the pen he held. He looked up from his shipment details, wondering what the hell could be happening in his kitchen. He stood and went downstairs to investigate the sound. His hand flipped open his jacket and strayed to the gun that was strapped to his ribs, his fingers resting against the cool metal. He turned the corner into the kitchen and the first thing he registered was the blood. The white tiles were spattered with blood and there was a knife on the floor; it too was bloody. His hand slipped away from his gun as he spotted the girl. Jenna knelt in the corner of the kitchen, her back against the cabinet and one hand held against her chest. The hand she was cradling was bleeding profusely and she was shaking. He walked slowly towards her, kicking the knife away and out of her arm's range. Kneeling down in front of the girl, he glanced down at her hand. There was so much blood that he couldn't really make out the wound. He looked her in the eyes, which were filled with tears, and asked her if she was alright. She giggled through her tears, saying that she was fine and that it was just a scratch. He lifted a hand towards her, but she flinched away. Sighing, he took her hand in his and said he just wanted to look. A towel hung nearby and he grabbed it, using it to clear away the blood. He was as gentle as he could be and he whispered to her, trying to quell the tears that still came. The gash wasn't very deep, but it was bleeding badly. He wrapped the towel around her hand and helped her to her feet. She looked at him, tilting her head to one side in a curious gesture. He grinned and laid a hand on her head, explaining that she should know better than to bleed all over his nice clean floor.

Snow

She snuggled further into the couch, sipping on the warm beverage in her hands. She had found a single packet of Swiss Miss hot cocoa Roman's cabinets. She was so excited about her find that she made it right away and settled on his big white couch to enjoy the snow falling outside the window. The little white flakes danced outside the window, the flurries swirling like women's dresses in a fervent waltz. She sighed contentedly and sipped her cocoa, giggling at the foam that tickled her lips. She was still staring out the window when he came into the room. He saw the girl slouching on his sofa, laughing to herself and sipping from a mug. He snorted in mirth and walked over to her. He leaned against the arm of the couch, looking down at her. She slowly turned her gaze to him, grinning sheepishly. He arched an eyebrow at the white foam on her upper lip, and then did something that surprised even him. He leaned down and gently ran his thumb over her mouth, collecting the foam on the digit. Her eyes went wide as she watched him. Her tongue flicked out instinctively as his thumb brushed past. He brought the thumb to his own mouth and licked the foam away. He grinned down at her and almost laughed at her expression. As he walked away, he asked her to remind him to keep hot chocolate mix in the house.