The apartment didn't look too bad and the neighborhood was a bit better. Whatever the reason for her small payment, she at least lived in a decent area, Mike mused as he turned off his car. He scanned the area twice for any movement or odd detail. Besides a couple of empty cars, there was no one out here.

Verifying that his gun was at his waist, he got out and went towards the building. There was neither gate nor a buzz mechanic to the place. He simply walked in. The apartment he was looking for was 416. He decided to take the stairs.

The first thing he noticed overall was that it was quiet. He paused before entering the fourth floor, noting the silence again. It was a little eerie. He found the number and glanced around before knocking four times – the woman had left specific directions with the Vet. So when there was a pause and a shuffle on the other side of the door, he said the password that the Vet had relayed.

"Floofy tulips." It was a purposely obtuse statement that only the man the Vet had sent would know. It was a clever idea. Nevertheless, it sounded utterly ridiculous coming from Mike's lips. He was grateful that only one person had heard him speak it.

The sound of two locks and a chain slipping way broke the silence in the hall. When the door opened, Mike noticed that there was…no one standing at it. He frowned and took a cautious step inside. He looked to the right and saw who he took to be his pitifully paying employee…with a kitchen knife in her right hand. He tensed but made no movement to disarm her. After all, he reasoned, she had to be scared out of her wits and defenseless otherwise – hence why he was here.

She didn't move though. Without even looking at the windows, he knew the blinds were shut tight and the curtains drawn. The only light that entered the room in an awkward angle came from the hallway and even then it didn't do much. The shadows hid the woman pretty well otherwise, save for the knife and the fact that she was probably a head shorter than he.

"So you're the guy." Her voice was quiet, tired, cracked, and strained. He had a good guess at what may have happened earlier this evening to cause it. And, more so, if he had to guess, she had probably spent the last few hours in the dark with a knife.

"I am." His chin tilted up slightly. She nodded after a moment and made to shut and lock the door. When she moved, however, he stepped back. She paused, then realized why.

"Bastard took my gun." She muttered quietly, a hint of shame mingled with agitation. With the door secure, she made her way, widely, to the kitchen. He took note of the sound of her bare feet slapping against the wooden floor. There was the sound of a 'swish', suggesting that she had put her knife away in the block. "Can I get you something to drink?" There was obvious irony in her tone.

Mike glanced around the room as his eyes adjusted, taking in as much as he could about his surroundings. "How about we start with some details first." It wasn't a question.

There was a soft scoffing noise from the kitchen before a few clinks filled the air. She opened another cabinet, similar noise echoing. "What, the Vet didn't even mention my name?"

"He did." Mike nodded once, his gaze in the general darkness of the kitchen. "Nellie." He greeted her belatedly. Water was being poured into something, a click, then some sort of machinery.

"'Nel' will do." Even with a half-wall and near-darkness between them, he could hear a smile in her voice. "And the name of my saving grace?"

"Mike." He started to speak further when a boiling and hissing noise erupted in the air. The strong smell of coffee assaulted his nose. There was another clink, click, and some sort of liquid being poured with a soft gurgle.

Then she stepped out from the kitchen with two cups in hand. From the dim light of electronics – chargers, resting televisions, and so forth – he could tell she had long curly hair and had a cloth wrapped around her upper arm. She stopped before him, her facial features hidden still, and held out a cup. "Coffee, Mike."

He took it and paused, catching the scent of something different but all too familiar to him: whiskey. "You spiked it?" Just how smart was Nel? Did she want a competent, alert bodyguard or a relaxed drunk for company?

A throaty chuckle was heard. "No, your coffee is black. Mine, however, is pure whiskey." What might have been expected – relaxing on the couch or in bed, given that she had a bodyguard now – was not what actually happened. Instead, she started to slowly pace the living room.

Mike observed her briefly before he took a sip of the dark roast coffee. Not bad, he thought. He watched her take a swig, cough with a grimace, and kept going. He let her unwind for the moment which, by proxy, allowed him to take note of the apartment.

A stereo, a TV, and a laptop. Nothing greatly costly or fancy. There were books, many books, that were scattered around. He caught sight of a few notebooks. Overall, there wasn't a real signal to show that she was swimming in money – which explained her pay. But how she knew the Vet was something that didn't add up, especially if tonight was just for three hundred. No, there had to be something he was missing, something neither thought to mention to him…yet.

"You gonna tell me the details of this midnight call?" He would find out why there was such a discrepancy between the appearance and the relationship. For now, he wanted to find out what he should keep an eye out for aside from a 'violent ex'.

Nel paused in mid-stride, glancing over. She then continued to walk, taking another sip as if to allow the words to come to her. "I've an ex-partner." She started slowly. "He was first a business partner, then things got a bit hot and heavy…but in all things, he's an ex now. We had a deal," she hesitated, her footfalls slowing briefly before she kept on, "and he decided to go back on it. So, he came into my place of work when we closed. We fought…I pulled a gun…he took it and…got a couple of punches in before my luck finally turned. Another employee walked in, having forgotten their phone, and…he ran."

Mike took a slow, long sip but didn't really taste anything that time. His attention and mind replayed what she had said, taking in the details. Not just of her words, of course, but her tone, her movements, the way the pitch of her tone increased ever so slightly when she mentioned she had gotten hit. She didn't mention how many, if any, punches she pulled. That wasn't the point currently anyway.

"So he has your gun. Did he have any other weapons on him at the time or any others he may own that he might use?" Practicality first.

She took a long sip and coughed, wincing. "He…had a…knife."

Despite it being three in the morning, Mike knew immediately the cause of the cloth wrapped around her arm. He sighed heavily. "Anything else?"

"Not that I know of." She admitted quietly.

Mike set his half-empty cup down on a table nearby. "Nel," he said firmly, catching her attention enough to make her stop pacing, "this will only work if you tell me every detail." He referred to the knife wound.

She gripped the cup with both hands. After a pause, she nodded slowly. "Fair enough, Mike." She took a sip. Her words, at the least, seemed to be more relaxed as the whiskey kicked in finally. "Ask away."

"What's his name?"

She started to walk slowly once more. "Joseph Hendrall."

"Do you know where he might be now?"

Nel snorted. "If he wasn't stalking the streets when you pulled in then I suppose that means he's stalking my old apartment."

"Why did you pull your gun?" Pause. "And is it traceable?" The serial number, that was.

The woman finished off the last bit of her drink and set her cup carelessly aside on the desk. When she turned to keep pacing, she stumbled a bit. "He wouldn't leave! And no, I bought it from a 'friend'." Well, that was both a blessing and an irritation.

Mike withheld a sigh of annoyance. "Why was he there in the first place?"

Nel turned again and this time stumbled against the wall, creating a dull thud for the neighbor. She didn't bother roaming anymore. "Because he's a cock-sucking jackass."

This was going nowhere fast. Mike's jaw tensed briefly as he cursed himself for allowing her to get so drunk. He hoped she would be one who fell asleep rather than ranted and raved. He didn't like those sorts – himself. Seeing that he wasn't going to get an answer tonight, he was content with the info he had gotten so far. It was enough to keep her safe tonight.

So he switched to other concerns. "Have you cleaned any wounds you received?"

Nel shrugged. "I think." He tried not to growl, but he did at least glare – not that she could see it in the dark. Before he could speak, she added, "Right, well, I'm going to sleep until my alarm at six." She pushed herself up from the wall, her balance shot. "We'll talk further tomorrow." Pause. "In the morning. Soon. At six."

Mike had to be grateful for small miracles.