Brad Crawford leaned against the wall in the alley behind the flowershop.
His golden eyes were thoughtful behind his wire-framed glasses, and he
unconsciously fiddled with the cuffs of his pristinely white suit jacket.
He was waiting for Aya, and he knew that Aya would be the only Weiss member
to come out in the alley at this time of day.
He checked his watch; it was almost time.
Almost on cue, the back door to the flowershop opened, and a young man in his early twenties with reddish hair and wearing an orange sweater walked out, his arms laden with dead roses. The young man headed towards the dumpster, intent on dumping his load. Crawford paced behind him, and when he stooped to open the dumpster, Crawford laid a hand on his shoulder.
"Aya," he murmured, gently turning the young man.
Aya dropped the roses, his eyes widening in surprise and then narrowing in anger. "Crawford, what are you doing here?" he growled, shaking off Crawford's hand. Aya backed up a step, hands clenched in fists, anger written in every line of his body.
"Aya, I--" Crawford paused, his usually calm and cool composure cracking slightly. "I--" at a complete loss for words, Crawford did the only thing he could thing of to do, he leaned in to kiss the younger man.
Aya jumped back, hitting the dumpster. "No one from Schwarz shall touch me that way!" he snarled, anger blazing in his violet eyes. Aya pulled his sword and leaped towards the taller American.
Crawford sighed, blocked Aya's thrusting arm with his forearm, and grabbed the young man. He twisted his arms, and threw Aya down amid the dead roses he had dropped earlier. Aya lay on the ground, momentarily stunned by the American's quick moves. Crawford reached into his jacked, and pulled his gun, and calmly shot the younger man through the heart, instantly killing him.
Crawford hung his head sadly, knowing it was him or Aya. He had known it would come to this, but had vainly hoped that Aya wouldn't reach for his sword. He sighed once again, then turned on his heel, leaving Aya to be found later, sprawled among his dead roses.
He checked his watch; it was almost time.
Almost on cue, the back door to the flowershop opened, and a young man in his early twenties with reddish hair and wearing an orange sweater walked out, his arms laden with dead roses. The young man headed towards the dumpster, intent on dumping his load. Crawford paced behind him, and when he stooped to open the dumpster, Crawford laid a hand on his shoulder.
"Aya," he murmured, gently turning the young man.
Aya dropped the roses, his eyes widening in surprise and then narrowing in anger. "Crawford, what are you doing here?" he growled, shaking off Crawford's hand. Aya backed up a step, hands clenched in fists, anger written in every line of his body.
"Aya, I--" Crawford paused, his usually calm and cool composure cracking slightly. "I--" at a complete loss for words, Crawford did the only thing he could thing of to do, he leaned in to kiss the younger man.
Aya jumped back, hitting the dumpster. "No one from Schwarz shall touch me that way!" he snarled, anger blazing in his violet eyes. Aya pulled his sword and leaped towards the taller American.
Crawford sighed, blocked Aya's thrusting arm with his forearm, and grabbed the young man. He twisted his arms, and threw Aya down amid the dead roses he had dropped earlier. Aya lay on the ground, momentarily stunned by the American's quick moves. Crawford reached into his jacked, and pulled his gun, and calmly shot the younger man through the heart, instantly killing him.
Crawford hung his head sadly, knowing it was him or Aya. He had known it would come to this, but had vainly hoped that Aya wouldn't reach for his sword. He sighed once again, then turned on his heel, leaving Aya to be found later, sprawled among his dead roses.