CB: Cat and Mouse, -XX-

"Looks like somebody's in trouble."

The voice on the communicator causes me to sit up slightly. The spark of static is loud and a slam my hand over it. I glance down at Faye, but she's still got her eyes closed.

I know that voice. And the sing-songy nature of the phrase that was spoken.

We are still lying there, wrapped in the sheets, and with the cards still scattered under us. She's finally asleep, more than lightly, like before. And then, after shutting off the communicator, I hear the footsteps outside. They are trying to be quiet, but not very well, considering the number of them, and the state of the stairs outside of our room.

Gently, I tighten my hand on her back, nudging her just enough to wake her. She opens her eyes slowly, and glares at me. I motion her to silence, and her breath catches in her throat. The footsteps have stopped. But she heard them. I tip my head towards the door.

Her eyes follow, and she turns her head to look at the pile of clothing to the side of the bed. Slowly, I reach a hand over, and scoop up her clothes.

The look on her face as she slips into her clothing asks me if I plan to do the same. Instead, I reach back over and hand her the gun from her jacket. She opens her mouth to ask me a question, but I put a finger to her lips. She's crouched on the bed next to me. Barefoot with the sticky cards beneath her. They cling to me as well.

The door is kicked open.

I push the gun against my chest.

Whatever the men barging in were expecting to find, it certainly wasn't this.

Faye's eyes, as she turns them back to look at me from the men, are angry.

The men in the doorway pause for a moment, blinking.

"Don't just stand there, get her off me! She's trying to kill me!"

She starts to talk, but the leader, a dark haired man in the hallway, breaks up the chuckles as he steps into the room. "I'm certain that's exactly what you'd like us to think, Spike Spiegel."

She turns the gun on the guy, and even from this angle I can tell that she's got the center of his forehead straight in her sights. "What's this all about?" she asks, voice cool.

She's most dangerous when she's calm like that.

"We'd like you to come and take a little trip with us, Miss Kaplan."

I arch an eyebrow at her, but she's not looking at me. Her eyes narrow, slightly, and her jaw tightens. "That's not my name. I don't know who you are, or what you're talking about-"

"Ah, but the look on your face says otherwise, Miss Faye," and then I notice it about him. The set of his shoulders, the mark on his collar.

He's a syndicate man.

A White Tiger.

Well, if what he just called her is true, at least I doubt that they're going to hurt her. "I don't care what the 'look on my face' says to you, I want you to get out of here."

"And I've already informed you that I've been instructed to escort you for a conversation. Present company excluded, of course. There's not much I can do to him, given his… affiliations, but we're not the only ones that know where the two of you are."

She lifts the gun and fires it at the ceiling in anger. "Leave him out of this." The gun swings back down and I see the guy swallow a lump in his throat.

I put a hand on her shoulder.

She flinches for a moment.

"There are more of them than there are of us, Faye. I think maybe it's best if you go with them, for now."

Her eyes, as she looks at me, are rebellious. They ask a hundred questions and none at all. She doesn't like this idea. She doesn't know how we'll meet back up. She doesn't know if I'll even make it out of the hotel room.

"I'm sure I'll catch up with you later," I say, in way of reassuring her.

"I promise he won't be harmed."

"By you," she corrects. She narrows her eyes at the dark haired young man who has an even expression on his serious face, and then she turns back to me, and does one thing I didn't expect her to do with so many Syndicate henchmen in the room.

She takes my face in one of her hands, smooth and soft as it is, and pulls it forward, kissing me.

I blink, noticing over her shoulder how the leader of the little group tightens his jaw in response, and she pulls away, lowering the gun from his forehead. "Where are my shoes?" she asks, casually as she slides off the edge of the bed and gets to her feet, scooping up her jacket in the process.

The other White Tigers exit the room, but the dark haired guy kneels to collect her boots from by the door and offers them to her.

She must really be one of them.

It must really be her name.

She steps into her boots and shoves her gun into the pocket of her jacket, motioning the guy to leave before her. He does so, and she moves to follow him, pausing at the door to look at me again.

"Was this how it was with-"

"Sometimes."

"Be careful," she says finally, closing the door firmly behind her.