Jackson stood and surveyed the girls in front of him.

"You look nice," he said sincerely. "Both of you."

Lisa felt a childish blush creeping up her cheeks. "Thanks," she muttered.

"Well, shall we?" Jackson offered his arm to Lisa. She took it and Sarah's hand. They left the hotel room, Lisa now being able to walk without limping, her ankle supported not only by the wrappings but the boots. She grabbed her coat as they hopped in the elevator.

"Now, Lisa, I hate to remind you, but..." Jackson began.

"I know. Don't try anything cute," she sighed. "I get it."

So Sarah knew. And she didn't appear to mind the new couple's formation. Maybe she, like Lisa, found it insane, but at the same time understood and condoned it.

"Where are we going?" Lisa asked, almost excitedly.

"Well, wherever," he shrugged as they stepped into the lobby. "Doesn't matter. Walk or cab? Do you think you can walk for a while on that, Leese?"

She nodded. "Let's walk. I can walk fairly well as long as I take it slow." He nodded and they stepped outside into the cool London city streets. Lisa breathed in deeply. Jackson glanced cautiously down at her face and slid his arm around Lisa's shoulders. The gesture shocked her but comforted her. She looked up at him and smiled ever so lightly. His hair was freshly combed, his suit hanging loosely on his figure. It was black, the shirt underneath a light blue that accented his eyes. Lisa looked down and laughed, suddenly realizing something.

"We match," she chuckled softly. He glanced at her outfit and then his and laughed.

"We do, huh?" he shook his head. "That's funny."

The sidewalk had quite a few people as they finally settled on a quaint Italian restaurant.

They were seated at a booth and Lisa slid in, figuring Sarah would sit next to her. But instead the girl slid in across from her and Jackson sat down next to Lisa. Lisa shot Sarah an I-Know-What-You're-Up-To glance and shook her head. Sarah waggled her eyebrows mischievously. Lisa laughed. Sarah, the matchmaker.

Jackson took her hand as they ordered. Lisa let herself lean slightly into him.

"So, Sarah," Jackson asked conversationally. "What grade are you in?"

She sipped her soda. "Eleventh. I'm a junior."

"Oooh, prom this year, right?" Lisa interjected. "That was the only dance I ever went to in highschool, and I loved it."

"Yeah," Sarah nodded. "Did you get on court?"

Lisa nodded. "I did. And I was surprised, too, because I wasn't all that popular. I mean, I had my small group of friends and I was fairly nice to the younger kids, but I never expected to get on." Sarah nodded.

"I wasn't, either," Jackson said suddenly.

"I thought you dropped out," Lisa said in confusion. Jackson shook his head.

"Nah. I dropped out before junior high normal school but then I was tutored and trained," he explained.

"To be an assassin," Lisa rolled her eyes.

"Yes. But Lisa, you make it sound worse than it is," Jackson argued.

"So, you mean, killing people isn't what it seems?" Lisa spat.

"First of all, we're not the sociopathic killers you think us to be. We're professionals. It takes a great amount of skill and ingenuity to devise the plots we do. And for the most part, our clients have legit reasons for wanting them dead," Jackson said calmly.

"Like?" Lisa pressed.

"Often flaws in their politics, or something of the sort. Hidden innuendos behind the scenes, or business disagreements," Jackson shrugged.

Lisa just sighed and sipped her drink. But she looked up when she realized Sarah had gone rigid.

"You-you're going to kill my dad?" she whispered. Lisa glared at Jackson. "I thought he just had to quit his job."

"Sorry, Sarah, but it's my job," Jackson explained. "The decline was necessary for the assassination."

"No," she was shaking from head to toe, her tears sliding quickly down her pale cheeks. "No, you can't, no...why..."

Jackson sighed. "Sarah, it's my-"

"No!" she screamed, leaping from the table. The silverware clattered as she dashed off to the restroom. Lisa moved to run after her but Jackson blocked her.

"Let me out, Jack," she demanded angrily.

"No," he shook his head. "She'll be back."

"You're an asshole," Lisa spat. "How do you live with yourself? Keefe's a good man, he's a good father-"

Jackson slammed his fist down on the table and turned to look at her, his eyes angrily flashing. "He's a good man, Leese? Well, I hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but this saint you're speaking of is cheating on his wife with some Hollywood bimbo and he's secretly authorizing a drug-smuggling into North Carolina from Cuba. Because Leese, if that's what a good man is in your eyes than I fully understand your feelings toward me."

Lisa just let her jaw slide open in shock.

"N-no, he wouldn't-"

"Yes, Leese, he would. He doesn't think on legality he justifies it by the nice sum it adds to his paycheck," Jackson snapped.

"Well, Sarah doesn't know that," Lisa pointed out.

"No, and I don't plan to tell her. By all means, by my guest."

Lisa shook her head. "I'd rather she continue to see you as a dick."

He looked at her. "I'm sorry, Leese. Really."

Lisa sighed and even though she knew she shouldn't, she believed him. "I know. But after this hell is all over, I'm not going to allow myself to have a relationship with a killer."

"I'm not quitting," he told her stubbornly.

"Then I can't be with you," Lisa responded, clenching her jaw.

"Come on, Leese," he begged. "It's a good job, stable, and really we're just vigilantes, you know?"

Vigilantes. That was a new one.

"How about this? You stay with me later on and I'll try to quit," he offered. Lisa bit her lip.

Your way.

Your way or the highway.

"Okay."