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19. Legend: Opportunist

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Legend smelled them coming before he saw them. "What the hell happened to you?"

"Don't ask," Naifu deadpanned.

"You smell like shit." He blinked. "You're covered in shit."

"I said not to ask."

Wabi's expression gave nothing away either. "Sewer chase," he said simply. It was enough.

Legend grimaced. "I hate those. Any joy at the end?"

"The target was already deceased."

"Damn." Hauling a live person out of the sewers was bad enough, but dragging a dead body was all sorts of awful. If it was bloated it went right into 'I should've shot myself before I got up this morning'. Regrettably, Legend knew exactly what he was talking about on that score. At least it hadn't been a Wutaian swamp. Now that was some pretty nasty shit – no pun intended.

Actually … yeah, pun intended. Naifu and Wabi reeked like week-old cat puke. Her expression stank as well. She eyed Legend with the kind of stubborn defiance that instantly made him want to find what irritated her most and do it relentlessly. Unlike many of his colleagues, he could be sure of a reaction from her, and one that wasn't likely to get him thrown in the slammer, the hospital, or under house arrest again. She probably only looked that w because of her hang-up bout being taken seriously, and not being treated less than anyone else just because of her age. Truthfully, she wasn't as young as people seemed to think, but sometimes still acted like a kid, as if she was afraid to let go and finally enter the big, bad adult world.

There was something supremely wrong with the universe when he could think that bout someone with her very own kill ratio. She'd brought down more targets than anyone who'd seen her drawing on her chopsticks, turning them into puppets and badly ventriloquising conversations between them during mealtimes, could envisage.

She glared at Legend, challenging him to say anything.

"Lemon juice," he said, surprising her.

"Huh?"

"Gets rid of the smell better than soap."

"You're giving me cleaning tips?"

"I ain't gonna tell you the best way to buff your nails or braid your hair for you, Sureshot."

"He's right," Wabi interrupted. "We need to make our report."

"Use the juice first. Tsengy-boy like his office to stink of coffee and stress, not sewer gunge."

Naifu gave Legend a confused look before departing. Her face also registered a little disappointment, s if she'd been looking forward to arguing, or at least trading a few insults with him. They did that a lot – had done ever since the cherry bomb thing, as if that had given the permission to act out round each other even though they rarely worked together. In fact, Legend thought s he watched her go, he didn't think he'd ever been put on assignment with her, which was a crying shame, now he came to think bout it.

Legend liked women. He'd never made need secret of the fact. He liked the way they looked, the way they smelled, the way they sounded, and the way they felt. He wasn't, however, an idiot. Starting stuff with colleagues was a Bad Idea unless they were on board at the beginning with the idea that whatever happened was just physical.

Even so, he'd found during the war that even that didn't ensure anything straightforward and uncomplicated. The civilian women he went with all eventually wanted more than he was willing to give. He told them t the start not to expect him to be their boyfriend, or any crap like that, and they always greed – until they saw his house, or realised that with a ring on their finger the small fortune he'd amassed working for Shinra would come to them if he was killed. The hungry gleam in their eyes depressed the hell out of him, to the point where he wondered why he was even surprised to see it anymore.

Contrastingly, the few times he'd been with colleagues they'd understood there was no point investing in a relationship where one of them could be dead in an hour. When that happened, it had been Legend who found himself doing the very no-nos he'd always hated in those civilian women. He'd acted like he had some sort of claim on those who hadn't asked for more than a few fumbles to reaffirm they were still alive in enemy Wutaian territory. As soon as he spotted that in himself, he pulled back, and once even asked for a transfer to a different mission before he went off the deep end.

Despite his reputation, he hadn't actually started anything with any women since returning to active service. Bizarre as it was, the fabled womaniser had become bored. His tenure under house arrest in the Cost del Sol had left him ample time to wine and dine dozens of women, and the unthinkable had happened – he'd grown bored of it. Being a Turk again had been just what he needed to stop himself going stir crazy.

And now?

Legend contemplatively watched Naifu turn the corner of the corridor. He'd never, actually, sworn off women, had he? And Naifu had enough gumption that she'd be unlike any of his previous conquests – civilian or not. There were possibilities there.

"Definite possibilities," he muttered with a smile.