3 - In a cellarlike room

As she looked at him out of the corner of her eye, she guessed she was sort of in need for a rotten apple. He was scratching the back of his head of jungle-like hair, trudging behind her. She wondered what could've been his reason for stepping into her fight, saving her, and not only that, but scolting her afterwards, also. Most especially since at the moment he'd thought she was a boy (thought at which she shuddered)

Mugen distantly noticed her peeking at him, but paid her no heed. He also neglected a passing thought which scornfully hinted at his having acted as the good guy of the story for the first time in years. His mind was far away from there, going over the events of a couple of days ago, when he'd come to know finally about the inside job woven around him. Of course one could never expect much from the scum with which he associated… anyway, when the time came to spill the beans, they had sheepishly pointed the finger at him- and he, who always worked alone, regretted to the very core of his soul having accepted that dumb offer to pilot their god-forsaken ship- no matter how good the pay might have been. He told himself mentally for the umpteenth time that he should've known that ganging up with Mukuro meant always putting a foot wrong. Well, when he accepted he'd been way drunk. But still, who did he think he was, Jesus Christ or something? A fucking chrusader? He could just damn forsake a promise whenever it occurred him…

Fuu stopped at a crossroads, looked up at the road sign, and then turned left. The neighbourhood was quiet, and simple little houses lined at both sides of the broad pavement. It made a nice picture, with the bluish darkness enveloping every crevice that the yellow bulbs of the streetlights did not set aflame. The night air sweetly smelled like recently mowed grass too, and Mugen hadn't smelled such a thing in so many summers, that he barely recognised the scent at first.

"So tell, why've you followed me this far?" she asked, and the perfect stillness shattered to the ground in a manner not entirely unpleasant.

He looked up at the starless sky.

"I'm covering my tracks babe," he explained in a bittersweetly amused voice, "This way I'm comin' to places I'd not be in any other case."

She understood him halfway, but dwelled not too much in it. It just dawned on her that he had this subtle Spanish accent, which maybe could explain his tanned skin and masculine sharpnesses. Whatever.

"Oh, come clean will you?" she told him after a while, turning round to look into his wolfish grey eyes.

"I'm not kidding girly," he said darkly, "See these tattoos?," and he rapidly wove a wrist before her eyes (she noticed his other wrist and ankles were tattooed as well, two blue stripes around each), "It's the kind of thing you do when you're doing time, when you're bored outta your soul and all you can get your hands on, is a fucking pen."

She blinked and, wordlessly, spun round again and kept walking. Her mind tried to tell her she could be seriously getting herself in hot water, but she'd have none of that.

He knew there was not a whisp of money on her, and if it wasn't money that he wanted, he wouldn't have waited that long to assault her. She knew, on the other hand, that she wouldn't be able to make him leave if she so wished, so what was so hideous about having a makeshift bodyguard for a while? Unless he was somehow trying to make it so that she'd be carrying the can for him, whatever it was he had done…

"Hey, ey…" she said suddenly, recognising a house in the distance, "We're almost there, see… what was your name?"

Mugen looked at her, then again at the houses (they all looked the same to him…) and at her again.

"Mugen's the name, girly."

A/N: chapter three! Fate always throws these two together :)