Argument is the worst sort of conversation.
-Jonathan Swift

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She hadn't said much. He'd been secretly elated at her discovery of his identity, but he kept up the calm, noncommittal façade that he'd plastered on from the moment he'd stepped foot inside the theatre.

Jackson knew she was scared. She said nothing, but he heard the ice rattling together in the plastic cup she clenched in her trembling hands. The noise delighted his ears—delighted him that she was afraid. Afraid of him. He had the upper hand again.

"What are you doing here, Jackson?"

He carefully contemplated his answer. He could tell her the truth, but what was the fun in that? He would draw her out, build her anxiety until she snapped, and then he would lay it all on her.

Jackson gestured grandly at the screen and whispered back, "Just watching some classy, high-quality entertainment, what about you?"

Part of him expected a witty retort, and the other predicted that she would try to harm him in some way. Lisa shocked him, however, by doing neither. She began to bolt from her chair and down the aisle, but although she caught him off guard, his reflexes were in check. He gripped her wrist and thrust her roughly back into her chair. Jackson glanced around the theater briefly to check for onlookers, but everybody was completely absorbed with the movie.

"Leaving so soon, Lisa?" he hissed. "You know, it's quite rude to leave somebody when they're having a conversation with you."

"Let go of me," she trembled. "Leave me alone."

"I'm afraid I can't do that," Jackson replied, widening his eyes quite innocently. "Because you see if I do, I'll be forced to kill your cousin because the job was never completed. And, although I honestly don't care one way or the other, I'm assuming that you would consider that a bad thing, correct?"

Lisa gritted her teeth and clenched her jaw, something Jackson recognized to be another output of her exasperation. He nearly felt sorry for her poor mouth, always taking the brunt of her emotions. "What do you want?"

"No simple 'hello, Jackson, how are you, Jackson?'" he frowned miserably at her and laughed as she scowled. "We've quite moved past the pleasantries of our last meeting, haven't we? By the way, have there been any more parking lot incidents that I need to know about? Because it would be nice to get all of this exposition out of the way without a pen hindering my compassion."

She struggled against his consistent grip on her wrist, her face twisting as she fought anger-fueled tears. "Fuck you."

Though he automatically wanted to, Jackson bit back a corny retort to her sneer and cleared his throat. "I'd calm it down, Leese, before people notice. I'm not a fan of unnecessary death."

Lisa just shook her head blankly at him as tears poured down her face, but she quieted. "What do you want?" she repeated.

"Would it be too clichéd if I said I was back to steal you?"

"I'll die first." Her automatic response, the one he'd expected. He knew the events that must be unfolding in her mind. She would be thinking he wanted her, Lisa Reisert. He did, of course, but that obviously hadn't been what he'd meant. He needed her for the job.

"I'm loving how you automatically assume that this is actually about you," he chuckled softly. "Do you really think I'm interested in you, Lisa? What happened to the self-consciousness back at the airport?"

"That disappeared when you threw me down the stairs," she spat at him. "What the hell are you talking about?"

He paused, biting his lip, uneager to quit stringing her out. "I have another job and I need your assistance. For now, all I want you to do is sit back and enjoy the rest of the movie." It struck him suddenly that she hadn't been enjoying it in the first place.

"And then?" Jackson was shocked by her sudden compliance. It disappointed him that she was going down so easily. He'd been all geared up for a fight, and yet she was sitting there and acting exactly how he was telling her to. It wasn't necessarily a bad thing, he realized, but annoying.

"And then you're going to walk out of this theater with your cousin and act as if everything is normal. You're going to ask her to leave, and then we'll take things from there."

Lisa nodded glumly, hanging her head. Jackson frowned at her. What was going on, really? After watching her for the past two weeks, he'd noticed a significant change in her persona, but not in this direction. She'd been happier, less introverted, and less apprehensive.

Jackson didn't want to see her broken like this. He wanted to cause her defeat. Granted, if she was acting like this now, it was because of him, but he wanted to see it. He wanted to watch her fall. The old Lisa Reisert would die this quickly. Something was wrong with the quivering shell of humanity next to him. Something was obviously afoot.

He caught her foot as it edged towards her purse and crushed it with his. She whimpered slightly and twitched in her seat, but nobody noticed the mouse-like gesture.

As Lisa quickly withdrew her leg and tucked it safely under her seat, Jackson swept down and scooped up her bag, slapping it into his lap. Her key chains rattled cheerfully as he turned to glower at her.

"So that's what it is," he murmured thoughtfully, relieved at his revelation. So she wasn't succumbing. She was preparing herself for attack.

Lisa slouched in her seat, pushing her hair back with her fingers. "Why can't you just leave me alone?" she moaned quietly. "What have I done to deserve this?"

Jackson pondered an answer, before an extremely familiar one registered. He smirked as he leaned closer to her face. Lisa twitched, her face contorting again into tears as he whispered into her ear.

"Well, Leese, sometimes bad things happen to good people."