Disclaimer: I do not own Human Target and intend no copyright infringement.
"Did she owe you something? Did you tell her to do this? To punish her for something?"
"Dude, once again, I swear I didn't."
"For that would be really… "
"Abominable! Absolutely abominable! "
"Boss, when I say I swear…"
"Better not question his honesty, Ilsa…."
The unmistakably sound of a woman groaning heavily could be heard from the direction of the office's showering facility.
"But what other explanation could there be?"
"Drugs in her chewing gum?"
"She got hit on the head during the last job…"
A man's groan, loud too and not unlike an old-fashioned locomotive or a rhinoceros, drowned out the woman's noise.
"Maybe it's not them, maybe it's us. Could be vapors from the ceiling or the floor. God knows what this place was built of. Maybe some strange gaseous decay product accumulated in the air over the past few decades and today the critical quantity was reached. We could be hallucinating."
"Most lucid explanation I've heard yet."
"One of them is coming here! Let's all behave normal and unobtrusive!"
Ames walked into the kitchen and found her boss and her two co-workers sitting around the table. Ilsa was studying a newspaper article, Chance was stirring his coffee and Guerrero was shoveling cereals into his mouth. They all did so with a concentration that would have suited the defusing of a bomb. As soon as Ames turned to open the fridge she felt three pairs of eyes trained on her. She wheeled around and caught the three frozen in mid-motion, outright staring at her.
"What?"
"Nothing!", came the unison reply.
Totally unobtrusive, of course.
Awkward silence stretched while Ames studied them, one eyebrow slightly arched, leaning back against the fridge.
"We ... um ... were just wondering…" Ilsa cleared her throat, struggling for words. "Since when do you like ... um ... " She looked at Guerrero and Chance, sending signals that she could do with a little backup here, but both men seemed to be terribly preoccupied with their breakfast. "Kiwis?", she finally blurted out.
Ames looked from her boss to the kiwi in her hand and back again.
"They're so totally not… your type… you're ... um ... a beautiful young woman and kiwis are… um…"
"Disproportioned and unattractive to look at", Guerrero finished the sentence.
A mischievous grin spread across Ames' face. She cut the kiwi in half and scooped up a spoonful of fruit pulp. Deliberately slowly, like a cat savoring cream, she licked the juicy mass off.
"They're more than meets the eye."