Just one more...
Nitori had watched enough romance films in his day to know that watching your amorous interest sleep was wrong, disturbing, and possibly a felony. The latter wouldn't normally phase the mob boss, but he had to admit. Watching Rin sleep was creepy.
But he had to check on him.
Nitori ran the tumultuous events of the day through his head, rubbing tired, bloodshot eyes, and wishing he did not have to be here checking up on Rin.
Who, of course, was just fine, sleeping deeply, drooling into his pillow, messy red hair sticking every which way...if watching him didn't feel like such a violation Nitori would have rather enjoyed seeing Rin so pleasantly fast asleep.
He yawned, failing at his vow for constant villigence. Despite his mental discipline, Nitori still felt like a five-ton steel safe rested precariously on his shoulders.
One of his mobsters had deserted that morning, and like most criminals, he left with all the sublime finesse of a lunatic, threatening his former comrades, waving firearms...it was a miracle the police had not heard the ruckus.
Momo tried to reason with him. Then Nitori himself. Their pleading - turned - ordering did little but fuel the flames of the mobster's desertion. Evidently it had been a long time coming. This man was displeased with the manner in which Nitori ran the mob, especially concerning the police. In the wake of Nitori's capture, release, and recapture including a raid, he felt they needed to fire back at the Iwatobi police force.
Nitori sighed, careful not to let his breath fog the window. Unlike the mob boss, who preferred to gain his revenge through blackmailing, shanghaiing, swindling, and the oh-so-satisfying business of outsmarting, this mobster's idea of revenge was simple.
He wanted blood. More specifically the blood of police officers, to which he felt so much aggression.
The mobster had kept one of his former comrades hostage before he could skuttle off so that Nitori had little choice but to let him go.
A self-proclaimed cop-killer...
A wrench twisted in his gut again. It had been there all day, tightening, nauseating...
And Nitori's thoughts, like the so often did, flew to Rin. As deputy he would be a higher priority target (Sousuke being the highest, but Nitori couldn't care less about him).
So like a phantom he had crept along the eaves and rooftops of the city, silhouetted by the bright lights of downtown to Rin's tiny apartment. There he had crouched on the windowsill for a good hour, watching, listening, convinced the killer would waste no time.
His paranoia went unfulfilled after an hour more, and Nitori decided to give up his watch for the night. It was too late to make an intelligent kill. Not enough time to hide the evidence before the sun came to wake the early risers.
Nitori brushed his fingers - carefully gloved - against the window. He wouldn't be able to come every night, and Rin was an able-bodied man, trained to handle anything...
But neither that nor anything would keep him from worrying.
TO BE CONTINUED...