"These are delicious — I mean have you had these? My god! They're orgasmic! Fuck me..." I bleated, easily following in step with Butcher. I'd forced him to stop at the noodle shop because I hadn't eaten in — well — days and it smelled really good. Honestly, my diet at Vought was high-end but always carefully regulated; had to fit into that costume.
"Alright, alright calm yourself. You're gonna draw attention to us and someone might just take you up on that offer..." Billy said keeping close to me with his collar popped up around his neck. My hoodie and sunglasses were enough to hide me in a crowd — just two white people on a walk together, nothing special to see here.
"What offer?" I asked with a mouth full of noodles, my chopsticks poised to take another.
He stopped walking for a moment and gave me what you might call a 'look.' Then I realized I'd been screaming about orgasms and fucking and I gave him a nod, "Yeah, yeah alright," I seceded and our walk went on, "You're really serious for a vigilante, you know that?"
"What makes you say that?" Billy returned.
"You barely smile, you rely heavily on sarcasm but refute jokes and your jaw hasn't unclenched since we met." I returned, tossing the empty noodle container into a passing public trashcan that was already overflowing. God bless America.
"You know being so bloody observant isn't impressive; it just makes you a right pain in my ass," Butcher said as he trotted down the block at his quickened pace once more.
"It's a good looking ass, if that helps," I said. I had to keep myself entertained somehow. I was on a new leg of life — everything I was facing was entirely new to me; humor and bugging the ever-loving shit out of Billy Butcher would get me through my new transition. That and the taste of my sweet, sweet vengeance that I would soon exact against my Brother.
"It doesn't," he replied, refusing to engage.
"So where are we going, exactly?" I shoved my hands into my pockets, barely taking in the sights of the city around me. I had a strange fear that if I looked too hard — it would look to hard back upon me.
"Just keep your head down and you'll see when we get there," Butcher replied. I had a feeling it would be some time and a lot of effort on my part until he began to share plans openly with me.
Finally, we reached a set of busy shipping docks. We cut behind a warehouse and found a gentleman with a high visibility vest smoking a cigarette, "Hey!" He said, with a very Yonkers accent. He flicked his cigarette to the ground and half-ass stamped it out beneath a steel toed boot, "You're on time, what a surprise."
"Shut the fuck up," Billy replied but it was surprisingly good natured. Billy pulled an envelope out of his inner-coat pocket and tossed it to the man, "All there," He said. The man gave it a peak but seemed satisfied enough and hid it beneath the band of his Levi's, "Hope this helps," he gave a shrug, passing back a plastic shopping bag that was balled up, wrapped around something again and again.
"Right now — anything helps," Butcher replied. He held up the package in thanks before he tucked it into his own coat, "Thanks again, mate."
"I'd say anytime but uh — gettin' a call from you ain't always a good time," the man kicked off from the wall and began walking past us, apparently going back to his real job, "At least you've got a pretty assistant this time. They're always the best distractions," but before Butcher could respond the man was around the corner headed back to his day job.
"Assistant?" I echoed, insulted I looked like someone's sidekick.
"Don't get your knickers in a twist, alright? That man's been married goin' on 20 something bloody years now, he don't see pretty girls that often." Billy replied but we were on the move again. I had a feeling Billy didn't spend too much time sitting down or in one place. I guess the loss of your wife to a world-beloved superhero could do that you.
"So what's in the bag?" I asked, keeping up with easy. I could see him panting through his nostrils as we made quick work of the streets but I was feeling good — just opening up to the fresh air, feeling my blood finally begin to flow and energize me again.
"We'll talk about it later," he replied shortly.
"We'll have to," I returned. This arrangement only worked with total honesty and open communication. I knew I had to remind him of what an asset I was — what a powerful ally he had in his pocket now but I knew his full trust would be hard-won.
The rest of the jaunt back to their clubhouse was quiet but that was fine by me. He was greeted by his gang when we returned and I was by proximity except by Hugh who seemed genuinely interested in my return.
"Frenchie," Butcher tossed him the ratty bag, "Take a look at this, see if we got anything that helps."
I stuck around to watch Frenchie unveil a CD-rom. What year was this? However, it might be a safer mode of exchange than ever-before as technology both advanced and big brother's net widened. Frenchie disappeared deeper into the bowels of the sewer and I followed.
Suddenly, I turned on my heel right before Butcher could wrap his fingers around my arm, "Can I help you?"
He was startled that I'd caught him before he could catch me but he recovered, "You should leave Frenchie to it for now. But I promise you'll be included when the time comes, alright?"
My eyes searched his for the lie but I didn't find one, however I'd say my piece, "If you don't start trusting me more, and soon... then we've already lost this war."
Slowly, he gave a nod and I relented my mission to follow Frenchie and continue my good faith efforts with Butcher. Silence befell us but I wasn't ashamed to be the first to break it, "I'm going to get some more noodles."