Sounds of traffic outside the hotel room had woken me up. I struggled groggily to shed the warm covers around me and look at the room. Mornings had never really been my thing, and it didn't help that Arthur and I had stayed up so late last night talking. A slight smile escaped me when I noticed him sleeping on the couch in the same exact position I left him in last night. Some James Bond he was!

Well, I wanted to make a nice surprise for him, since, you know he saved my life and everything, so I decided to make some breakfast tea with the little ceramic cups the hotel provided. I knew he would like the surprise. He seemed like the type for that. I was just pouring the water for the tea into the cups when I felt a pair of arms around my waist. Of course, not expecting this, I threw everything into the air in surprise and a mini Niagara Falls of boiling water landed on my bare toes.

"Buggity bug bug bugger!"

"Sorry, I'm so sorry! Wait... what did you just say?" Arthur's laugh makes the pain a little more bearable, at least.

"I was just trying really hard not to curse. My family's Catholic, you know."

"Or Protestant."

"What?"

He just shakes his head, smiling. "Pain is pain. And, oh, sorry about that. Let's go out for tea instead, all right?"

"All right..." I reply, looking into his eyes a little bit too wistfully.

~.~.~

About thirty minutes later, I stepped out the door wearing one of Arthur's shirts and a pair of leggings from last night. He also gives me a coat because it's the middle of winter and my strapless dress from the casino just won't cut it. I notice people staring at us as we walk down the street to the coffee shop.

"Great, now they think I'm the stupid girlfriend who purposely dressed lightly just to get her boyfriend's coat on her shoulders." I mutter.

Arthur's reply is to pull me in closer. "Let the wankers think what they want." he whispers. "They're just jealous."

"Two Earl Grays, please." We decide to take the tea to-go and adventure around the little shops while it still keeps our hands warm.

"Look at this necklace! Isn't it a pretty color?"

Arthur checks the tag. "15 pounds? Yours." His eyes flicker up to meet mine for just a second and I remark (as if I wouldn't have known that already by all the staring I've done at this point) that they're the same exact colour as the gemstone.

The man I've just met yesterday sweeps up my hair and fastens the clasp behind my neck. Then I suddenly start feeling really, really warm. Maybe it was the thick fabric of Arthur's coat; maybe it's a brush of the arm that just seconds ago nestled in the crook of my waist- maybe it's the warm fuzzy feeling forming in my chest and permeating through to my cheeks at his touch. Oh wait, it wasn't any of those.

It was the warm spurt of blood trickling down my neck as I watched the shopkeeper's head become completely detached from his torso.

~.~.~.~

The arm yanked away from my side drew bullets faster that the assassin could escape. Arthur's tea, barely touched, lay spilt on the ground; mixing with blood and turning the pavement into a rusty-coloured vortex. The same vortex that formed in my head as I ran away as fast as I could.

Hot, too hot. I struggled with the buttons of Arthur's coat as its leathery hands tried to strangle me alive. I raced up the flights of stairs to the hotel room, where I didn't even bother to rip off the rest of my clothing before I turned on the water. I got in the shower and watched unbelieving as the blood rinsed off. Unbelieving because I could still feel it on me. Sticky, stuck between my hair and my fingernails; the creases in my skin. I scrubbed I scrubbed I scrubbed, almost to the point where I caused my own blood to spill. But I could not get it off.

I sat slumped under the pounding rain of the shower, which had pity enough to camouflage my wet tears and drown out the sound of my sobbing. I glanced at the necklace that I had just yanked from my neck and onto the floor. My blurring eyes wouldn't censor that it was still encrusted with blood.

How could it be that, in just a fragment of a second, the emerald joy of Arthur's company was so stained by the crimson malice of his profession?