It took Steve a moment to connect the ringing in his pocket with receiving a phone call, and another moment to work it out of his pocket, but he couldn't be more confused when the conversation started.
"Hello?"
"Listen, Steve; if you're avoiding me, answering your cell was a bad move."
"I'm sorry?" Steve tried to work through exactly what was happening. "Sam, what are you talking about?"
"I've been knocking on your door for five minutes, why won't you let me in, man?" Sam sounded aggravated, but Steve thought he understood the situation a little better.
"Sam, I'm not home."
"Sure, I'll buy that." Sam responded. "I can hear you!"
"Sam." Steve began very gravely. "I'm not in the apartment."
"What do you mean? It sounds exactly like any other time I drop by, the radio's on and everything."
"Sam, listen." Steve thought very quickly about just what to do. "You have to get in there, someone must have broken in." There was a huff over the line.
"This is NOT how I planned my day out." Steve could bear the apprehension in his voice, but the quiet was disturbed by the splintering of wood and the bang of the door crashing into the wall. He could hear the heavy footsteps as Sam checked the whole apartment and the sigh when Sam reported back. "There's no one in any of the rooms, but someone was definitely here. Food set out on the counter, and the window is open; they must have bailed before I got in."
"They were listening." Steve said absently. "Can you stay until I get back? Clearly we're dealing with a professional and I have a lot of things to account for."
"Yeah, but what should I tell the angry landlord that's stomping up here?"
"You'll think of something."
It had been days since that incident; nothing was stolen or even misplaced and the thief had not made a return. Everything had been meticulously searched through but nothing had moved even a centimeter out of it's place, not even any of Steve's personal affects. The only sign anyone unwelcome had been there was the open window and the food that was set out, a combination of sandwich supplies Steve himself was not fond of.
With no leads and no real reason to believe they would return, Steve tried to slip back into normalcy. He woke up, did what was on his daily agenda, and went to bed like he always would. It wasn't until he had gotten comfortable again that a sharp snap woke him in the middle of the night.
In the darkness of the room it was hard to identify the shadow, and while Steve remained wary it calmly sat down on the edge of his bed. It was a violation of his personal space, but the air remained quiet until the lamp on the nightstand flickered to life with a pop. With the illumination Steve was better able to see her, and he wrinkled his brow even further trying to piece things together.
She was so young, not more than 14 or 15. It was obvious she was only a girl, but her sweet features were pressed into rigid lines to give off a frigid look.
"We need to talk." She whispered.
"Who are you?" It tumbled out before he got the chance to wrangle his words. The girl's face shifted suddenly and she rolled her eyes at him.
"I get that maybe that's all that's important to you, but I worked really hard for this introduction so maybe just let me get to it?"
Steve was at a loss for words, but for now maybe it was safer to go with it. "Okay." He muttered, waiting for her to continue.
"You probably know where this is going, you just haven't made sense of it yet; allow me to alleviate some confusion. I've been living here when you're not. Well, not including the last couple days, the whole door busting thing kind of put me off, but other than that the time has been lovely." It was almost as if she thought it a joke, but she pressed on. "I guess I hoped we'd meet under better circumstances, but I hadn't quite figured out what that might be before your pal spooked me, so now we're down to this. You're going to help me."
"That's impossible." Steve began. "I would have known if you were here."
"Well, they say that eyesight deteriorates with old age. I guess I figured you were an exception, gramps."
"How did you get in here? How did you find me?"
"I have, specific knowledge about an approximate number of things. Also, you visit the Smithsonian and Brooklyn a lot. Like, a LOT a lot."
"You can't be here, I'm calling the authorities." Steve began to blindly search for the phone, but he paused when she passed it to him, 911 already typed in.
"Call them as many times as you like, I'll keep coming back. Look, I'm not going to play games or hide anymore. You're going to help me!"
"I can't help you, you need to go back to your home."
"I don't have a home!" Her voice cracked as she shouted, but she tried to contain herself quickly. "I don't have anything anymore, just PLEASE..." She made steady eye contact for the first time. Her eyes were brown, almost an amber, and they looked practically destitute. "Be the good guy."
Steve felt his resolve crumbling away. He wasn't entirely sure just yet that she was of no threat, but he could tell she had a lot of faith in coming to him. With a sigh, and clearly against his better judgement Steve nodded his affirmation. "Okay. Tell me why you're here."
