AN: My First Hanna is Not a Boy's Name fic. Just a little bunny that wouldn't leave me alone. And to anyone who has been waiting for chapter fic updates from me, I'm in the process of working on them! I'm sorry!
This is like….Lamont/Worth fluffy friendship :/
Disclaimer: All character's belong to the amazing Tessa Stone 3
XXxxXXxxXX
"Shit….Fuckin' Lamont….makin' me go get th' fuckin' boxes…."
"That's his fuckin job….." A very angry Worth trudged through the summer rain. The sunset's warm reflection made the drops look like molten ore, heating the doctor's already fuming temper further.
"T' 'ell with that damn invoice, he ain't getting a penny now…" He turned into a darkened street. A residential area he knew very well. A baby cried from a window on some third floor. He;d heard it, but he'd never identified the source specifically. Every trashcan, clothesline, flower pot, he'd seen it all before; a baby's cry, a dog's bark, or an old bickering couple, nothing new. The sun disappeared behind the seventh floor of the building on the street he had just left. Routine. That was the only problem with being in the same place forever. Everything was routine and nothing could break it.
Except for death… Worth found himself silently wishing to his only company; a cat digging through an abandoned dumpster. The fur on his coat was slicked to his neck and wrists and the thin white fabric was nearly translucent revealing the deep green of his hidden shirt. His shoes squelched, complaining about the many puddles their owner neglected to avoid. Worth had his hands dug deep into his pockets, allowing the accumulated rain to pool around his fingers.
The lamps flicked on behind him, allowing minimal light to the back alley town. He continued to walk the old cobblestone street, ignoring the odd looks he earned from the rare passerby. He grumbled a polite "Fuck you" under his breath and continued on. He walked in this manner for ten or twelve blocks. The road narrowed into a ten foot alley, a door here and there. It reminded him of the old English pictures that Hanna had shoved in his face a few months back. The little red-head had gone to a museum looking for an old legend that would have given him a lead on his newest case, but became too distracted with European history to remember the legend he was looking for in the first place. Hanna had thrown open Worth's door raving like a maniac about the old English architecture and castles and whatnot. It was rather entertaining. Worth found himself smiling at the memory. He also realized that he had no idea where he was.
The familiar path had passed and melted into a strange, unfamiliar one. A tinge of panic took him over as he struggled for an indication of where the hell he was. He back tracked a little bit until he could make out the street signs: 'Pericolo Ave' and 'Schioppo St'. That earned a confused look from the doc. "What kinda drunken bastard names a street Schioppo? Th' hell does that even mean?" Worth ranted to himself, taking his frustration out on a poor street sign.
The sounds of footsteps behind him made him turn. A figure with his head down scuffled through the rain. Worth saw an opportunity to get his bearings. Worth called out to him as he neared.
"'Ey! Could you tell me how t' get-" The figure pressed him against the side of the building with a lot more force than necessary. The man had a crazed look in his eye, obviously intoxicated.
"What dya got on ya buddy? How much?" The man rasped with heavily alcoholic breath.
"Get th- 'ell away from me ya damn drunk-" Worth made a move to push the man away when an all to familiar click resounded off of his chest. Worth's blood went cold.
"How much ya- hic, got ya sunnuvabitch?" He pressed the gun's barrel into Worth's bony ribs, earning a wince from the doc.
"I ain't got- hrn….anything." Worth said truthfully. "Unless ya want some pocket lint…."
The drunk sneered. "Then tha's too bad."
He pulled the trigger, unloading cold metal into Worth's chest.
XXxxXXxxXX
Short beginning, but then again, it's gonna be a short story.
~Jazz