Disclaimer: I don't own Human Target, if I did do you really think we'd be left hanging waiting to find out what happened between the end of season1 and the start of season 2?
Author's note: Another quickie for you good people.
"Ilsa, you are so beautiful when you're angry."
"Guerrero," Chance warned him. "You're really not helping yourself…"
"What? She is!" Guerrero smirked. "It's like that giant stick she's got stuck up her ass just melts away and she looks all…" he searched for the right word, "flexible." He leered at his flustered boss, as she flushed a deep red, almost matching the colour of her evening gown. Despite realising the futility of the gesture, Chance tried to diffuse the situation.
"See the thing is, Mrs Pucci, there's always been a bit of an unwritten rule that anything left in the refrigerator is fair game and Guerrero is used to eating whatever is left hanging around when he's on a job."
"Perks of being a freelancer." Guerrero added helpfully.
"But it was an unopened jar of caviar! And you are no longer a freelancer Mr Guerrero! You are my employee! What am I supposed to feed my guests this evening?"
"I did you a favour, Ilsa. That slop would have had your guests shitting through the eye of a needle. It smelled rank, even Carmine wouldn't eat it. I had to flush it down the sink with half a bottle of drain cleaner."
"You did what?" Ilsa gasped. "It's caviar, Mr Guerrero, it's supposed to smell like that!"
Guerrero screwed up his nose. "You know what? I think I can still smell it."
Ilsa was speechless. Guerrero thought it made a nice change.
"If you want some really good caviar I know a guy at the docks."
Chance laughed at his friend's audacity.
"He has a little arrangement with a guy in customs. I can call him, get you some of the really good stuff, for a good price too."
Ilsa stood open mouthed for a moment at a loss for what to say.
"He might even courier some over in time for your dinner party tonight. For a the right price, of course."
Ilsa shut her mouth and narrowed her eyes at her untrustworthy employee.
"You wouldn't be trying to play me would you, Mr Guerrero?"
Chance sniggered, earning him a not so subtle jab in the ribs from Guerrero, who was simultaneously trying to exude innocence.
"I wouldn't dream of it Mrs Pucci."
She was suspicious of the sneaky little man but soothed by his switch to a more formal style of address. She sighed. If she was going to trust the wretched man out in the field when her good name was at stake, she might as well trust him to replace the damn caviar. Besides, she didn't really have many other options at this hour.
"Very well Mr Guerrero. If you have it delivered within the hour I will consider forgiving you."
With that she stormed imperiously out of the kitchen.
"You're going to sell her back her own caviar, aren't you?" Chance asked laughing.
"Of course not, dude. Me and Carmine ate the whole lot earlier." He replied grinning. "It wasn't half bad actually."