7. Double Trouble
"Those kids,"
The pair of them, dipping in and out, and up and behind, of alleys, of dumpsters, of every day in the week, together—a package deal of the annoying variation. Persistent like stains of ink that won't lift off.
Always after three. Mostly before six. Then again, after seven.
Never seen with their bike within vicinity, intentionally concealing their location, they still manage to find and keep up with the Spider.
Three to six: a faint feeling of being watched.
Seven to twelve: the rumbling of far-off engines and fading voices.
Four thirteen:
"getting aggressive, aren't they?"
Standing across the street, bike against their back, looking, waiting, beckoning.
The shrewd one blinks, challenging a reaction with a thin frown upon his mouth. The simple one glares, hot brown eyes and quiet fight.
"I think they're quite cute, actually."
Two displeased glares directed at Four.
"I wouldn't say cute, but they're somethin' alright."
They pass him, ignoring the wave he sends their way. Each set of footsteps adds another limb to their backs, circling them in, the deeper they venture. In front of the head, sat with his arms sprawled over the handles of his bike, they stop.
And stare. At the head, between them, at the head again.
The head blinks.
"We just wanted to say that we will be settling here awhile."
The simple one states, not too friendly a tone.
"Oh? I didn't know 'just saying' involved one week of tailing."
The head returns the glare with a blank stare.
"Nah, that was us scoping out the competition."
The shrewd one shrugs.
"And your evaluation?"
He tips his silver head.
"Can't say. You're kinda weird."
Whimsical, not weird.
"And you're kind of young."
And those cool blue eyes reflect a mind of trained skepticism, reworked and refined to appraise behind hooded guises of childish intentions. A glint of mischief, perhaps. Or maybe just obligated bravado, with that pointed smile.
"And does being young stop anybody?"
Indeed.
"When it counts, I'd say, most."
The glaring one asks, with a self-assured demeanour that has Four reverberating.
"What about you?"
Oh.
"Hmm."
Silver-hair elbows his friend.
"We—will be around awhile."