"So, you're saying you love me?"

I sighed for the hundredth billion time. Why did this have to be so complicated?

"No Monster, I'm saying that I have developed feelings that are both deluded as well as forced upon for you."

"So, you're saying that you don't love me?"

This time the sigh was from him. Really, I wasn't trying to make this hard for him, he just needed to learn how to be more… blunt about things.

"Monster," he took my face in his hands, "I have a strange, odd affection towards you. Now whether that implies in a way that I am indeed in love with you would depend on the factors of physically, mentally, and emotionally. For instance, we have just spent the last three hours rolling around in a hotel bed. That's the physical part. Now mentally, in feels as though we have spent forever in this bed, talking, sleeping, or making love. Emotionally, I feel as though we are not even in a bed, but instead we are in our own world, ignoring the fact that housekeeping continues to invade our private moments every thirty minutes."

As if on cue there was a knock on the door, followed by a "Housekeeping Sir! May we come in?" "No, come back later!" "Ok!" There was the sound of a cart being wheeled away, and then Slevin drew his gaze back towards me. I'm positive that he could still see the confusion in my eyes, but he probably already had a headache from all my questions, so he just ignored it.

"Look B, you know where I'm going right?"

"No."

"You know what I'm going to do right?"

"No."

"And you know when I going to be back, right?"

I only shook my head as an answer this time. Slevin smiled, kissing me on my forehead before he stood and went to the bathroom. I never knew anything anymore. I was kept out of his house, his life, everything! It was like he didn't even trust me anymore. That shouldn't shock me though, he didn't even love me. Or did he?

I huffed to myself, thinking that plucking the petals off a flower would give me a faster answer. He loves me, he loves me not. At least the answer would be clear then. With Slevin it was ALWAYS complicated. Never one word answers, always trailing off in paragraphs. 'Oh, should we stay at this hotel, or that hotel?' I would ask innocently.

'Well that hotel isn't getting good reviews, but then again we shouldn't really just believe what anonymous people say, yet the other hotel looks shabby, but it's the inside that counts. One might be cheaper than the other, but that would require driving back and forth which would exhaust gas so we might as well just pick one. And then there's still the matter that there may not be any available rooms, or the place could have a horrible stench. There is also a football game tonight, so it's very likely that numerous amounts of sports fans will be here, so we should try to be at the hotel that would be the quietest. However, if we plan on having sex tonight we might want to pick the noisier ho-''DAMMIT SLEVIN JUST PICK ONE!'

And so that's how we ended up here. I do try my hardest not to yell at him, but he can be so frustrating sometimes! Really, aren't assassins supposed to be, like, quick when it comes to deciding things? Should I shoot him, should I not shoot him, POW. Done.

Oh, but not Slevin, oh no. He probably gets there an hour early just so he can debate to himself about it. And he does it over everything! What foods to eat, what things to wear, what jobs to take, everything! He tells me he has t- this condition thingy that's keeps he from worrying, but does he really have to always think everything through so thoroughly? It really borders on annoying most of the time.

Slevin stepped out of the bathroom, his hair somewhat fixed. He smiled at me, leaning down to kiss me. I dodged it, frowning back at him. He sighed, and then moved to cup my face in his hands again. "I care about you, isn't that enough?" I narrowed my eyes at him, crossing my arms over my chest. Grinning, he kissed my nose, grabbed his pack and left. I flopped back against the bed and rubbed my temples. Why did I even bother?

It was a Tuesday afternoon, nothing really special. Beatrice Higgins was sipping some ice coffee at the coffee shop she regularly went to. It fact, she worked there. The day had started out in the 80's, and the temperature was slowly rising. So, Ms. Higgins had the wonderful idea to go out and have a nice cold drink at her favorite shop.

After a little past noon, she'd had her fill of both cold coffee, as well as the air conditioned environment of the cozy coffee shop. But as she pulling out a crossword puzzle to keep her entertained, a young man came walking in, another man following behind him. The man who was last to walk in looked a lot older than the one in front of him. He immediately went for one of the booths, sliding in and picking up a menu.

The other man took his time looking about the shop, as if looking for someone. There was an elderly woman in the corner by the window, a waiter who looked extremely bored, the older man who was scrutinizing the menu, and me. His eyes settled on me, seeming serious for a moment, but then his features relaxed and he smiled. I smiled back at him, just in a friendly exchange. Jim, the waiter, moved to where the older man sat, taking out a pen and paper.

I turned my head back to my crossword puzzle in front of me, gingerly sipping my ice coffee. The shop had a quiet feel to it, so it was easy to hear what the man was ordering. "I'll have two coffee's, black and hot, two tuna sandwiches without crusts, one Caesar salad extra Caesar dressing, and some French onion soup, hot as well." He closed the menu handing it back to Jim.

The waiter looked shock at such a large order, but quickly moved to go to the kitchen. He passed by me, his eyes pleading. "Hey Beatrice, I know it's your day off, but could you get the other guys order? Please?" I sighed, but nodded. Taking one last sip of my coffee, I got out of my chair and moved to where the younger man sat. "Hello sir, how are you today?" He looked up at me, smiling again. He placed the menu down and turned so his entire body faced me. "I doing very well, thank you for asking. How are you?"

His voice was charming, like he was generally interested in how I was today. "I'm fine, just enjoying the day. Can I get your order?" I had no pen or paper, so I was silently hoping this guy wouldn't order as much as the older one did. "Well that depends. Can I know your name?" I looked down, remembering I wasn't supposed to be working today, so my nametag was still at home. "Oh, it's Beatrice." He hummed softly, his eyes staring straight into mine. "Beatrice, that's a nice name. I guess you're not from Long Island, are you?" I blushed slightly. "No, I'm from Washington. Seattle, actually."

He hummed again, folding his hands under his chin. "Well, Miss Beatrice, could you please get me whatever it is that you are having? And after that, I wouldn't mind if you sat with me. I'm curious as to why you moved from Washington to New York. That is, unless it's too personal for you to discuss." I smiled, somewhat creeped out. "But, I don't even know your name sir.""Oh right, I'm sorry. I'm Slevin Kelevra. And I was born in New York, though I wasn't raised here. It's been a while since I've been back."

I was intrigued by his opening story, but I remembered, ice coffee. "How do you like your ice coffee Mr. Slevin Kelevra?"

We talked for a few hours, and then I give him my cell number. We would always bump into each other after that and end up talking for hours on end. But that was, oh, maybe a year ago? I found out later he had used my cell number to track my whereabouts. Creepy or cute? I don't know.

Slevin has always been careful to keep me both in his life, as well as out of it. I found out he was an assassin by accident, find a silenced gun in one of his traveling back. He was beyond pissed at first, and I calmly tried to explain that I was looking for a shirt of his to borrow. It took a good week to get back on equal footing, and during that week was the first time I ever really experienced angry sex. It was definitely not the most fun to try, and afterwards I was always limping. He had also bought me a pile of shirts in various sizes after that incident too.

I also know that the other guy at the shop was with him, kind of. Mr. Goodkat, or as I liked to call him, Mr. Kit-Kat. I didn't like him, he was mean. He didn't like me either, I was too annoying. Slevin tried his best to keep us apart as much as possible, least Kit-Kat shoots me before I stab him with an extremely sharp object. We only saw each other when they got a new job.

The first time I met him the Kit-Kat slipped, and I was staring inside the barrel of his gun. He had gotten in the habit of calling me Monster, apparently because I was hyper like the energy drink, and I destroyed everything I touched. Which was a lie, and I was really annoyed when Slevin had adopted the name towards me as well.

I would sometimes call Slevin Puppy, just because his last name means bad dog. He hasn't said that he hates the name, so I'm sticking to it. Sighing again, I turned to look at the clock. Let's see, I don't know where he is, what he's doing, or when he'll be back. Might as well get some sleep, this could take a while.