Four

Alfred awoke the next morning feeling like his head was going to split in two. Slowly, he turned over in his bed, noticing he was alone. Sitting up, he noticed his shirt was gone again—this time nowhere in sight—and also that his pants were undone. What had he done last night? He remembered drinking a few shots at the club… and everything else was a blur. He got out of bed a bit sluggishly, stumbling, moving to the kitchen. Something smelled good. The afternoon light showed through the window as the smell of pancakes floated through the apartment. Alfred rubbed his eyes, putting on his glasses and gaping slightly at the sight in his kitchen.

Anya had a pair of earphones in and was tapping her foot while flipping pancakes on the griddle. She was in a little white tie-around blouse that showed her stomach, and a long pair of flared jeans that covered a pair of white cowboy boots. Her hair was in a ponytail and she wore faded pink lipstick. She didn't notice Al for a while, putting the pancakes on a plate before turning around and seeing him. She jumped, almost dropping the plate, before chuckling and pulling the earphones out of her ears.

"Morning, darling~" she snickered, "Or, rather, afternoon~" she set the plate down on the small dining room table. Alfred just continued to stare, dumbstruck. What the hell was happening here? He watched as she set a glass of water and two pills next to the plate of pancakes, and he finally began moving towards the food, feeling extremely hungry.

"What do you mean, afternoon? What happened yesterday?"

"The pills are for your headache; I'm sure you have quite the hangover after last night." she ignored his question, skipping over to the couch and grabbing her purse, moving towards the door. Alfred grabbed her arm, but felt dizzy from the sudden movement.

"Anya, please. What happened yesterday?" He was as serious as a man with a hangover could get, but Anya pulled out of his grip, opening the door to the apartment to leave. She stopped, however, when she almost ran face-first into someone at the door. He had short blonde hair and thick eyebrows, and he certainly looked unhappy. He glanced at Anya up and down before looking at Alfred, behind her.

"I heard the word 'hangover', Alfred. Care to tell me what's really going on?"

Alfred blinked, even more confused. He turned to Anya, who shrunk under his gaze.

"I… I kinda called your office at work and said you were sick… don't be mad!"

"You WHAT?" But before he could yell at her, she slipped past the thick-browed man and out of the building. Alfred sighed, gesturing for the man to come in as he sat down and began eating. "Sorry Arthur, it's been a rough couple days."

"Yeah I'll bet. Too much sex with the whore, Alfred?"

Alfred stopped mid-bite. How did Arthur know? Oh wait, she didn't exactly hide it. He gulped down the food, suddenly feeling nervous. Arthur wanted top spot on the police force, and if he ratted him out, he'd get it for sure. He leaned against the wall, crossing his arms.

"What are you doing with this girl, Alfred? She's going to get you in trouble, you know." Arthur smirked, chuckling darkly. Alfred frowned, putting his food down a bit reluctantly.

"That's none of your business, Arthur."

"It's my business when you're skipping work."

"I'm just trying to fix her up, man, lighten up!"

At these words, he saw a note next to the plate of food. It was scrawled on in pretty handwriting and had a pink lip-print on it.

Darling, I'm heading off to work. Thank you for the time we shared. Hope to see you around sometime soon.

With much love,

Anya

Alfred stared, reading it over and over again, not processing it. She… left? For good? What the FUCK? He got out of the chair, taking the two pills she'd left him and moving towards the door. Arthur stopped him, however, grabbing his arm.

"Alfred, this chick is garbage. She isn't good for you. If you go back and see her…" his gaze hardened, like a predator would lock onto its prey, "…I'll personally see that both of you are arrested. Is that clear?"

He could tell Arthur was serious, and there were a few moments of silence before Alfred pulled out of his grip, sighing and nodding. Fine. Anya didn't want to be there? That was her problem. He'd tried his hand. He pulled on his bomber jacket, fussing with his hair a bit before following Arthur out the door.

A week had passed since Anya had seen Alfred on her street. To be honest, she kind of missed having him around to tease. She wanted to see him, but her boss probably wouldn't allow it, even though he favored her a bit. She moved from the main street and down the alleyway, knocking on a door that blended with the brick. She was let in almost immediately, and she entered a long corridor. She moved towards the end of the hall, stopping at a door on her right. She knocked, and someone called through the door, their voice deep.

"Name?"

"Anya Braginski."

"Business?"

"Visiting a friend."

She heard conversation muffled through the thick door, and a different voice spoke out. It was filled with confidence, and a bit more arrogant than the last.

"Braginski~! What is this about visiting a friend~?"

"Da. There is someone in town I'd like to visit, sir."

There was silence for a bit, before laughter from behind the door.

"You know that leaving work will cost you some pay, yes~?"

"…Yes, of course."

"…Then you'd better hurry it up. Twenty-five cents off for every minute you're gone, starting… now~"

Things quieted behind the door, and Anya took that as her cue to leave. She rushed up the steps of the building to her room, slipping off the clothes she had on and opening her closet. In the very back was a set of clothes she'd bought with Alfred the other day; a nice lilac, button-down dress shirt with flared sleeves and a pair of light khaki shorts. She added a tan belt and put on a pair of combat boots for the set. She threw her hair up in a messy bun and wiped off all her make-up, lightly coating her lips with gloss rather than lipstick before heading out the door.

Slowly and a bit hesitantly, Anya walked into the police station, heading for the front desk. The receptionist was a cute little thing, and she looked up at Anya expectantly.

"How can I help you?"

"Er… I'm here to see a Mr. Jones, if I could?"

The woman blinked, silent for a moment, before smiling and pointing at a door down the hall. "That's his office. I can't promise he'll he in today, but you can check to see if he's there. If not, leave your name and number with me and I'll have him give you a call."

Anya smiled faintly in thanks, shuffling past a few people and towards the room. She felt so out of place, even though she blended in so well. What was the saying? "Sweating like a sinner in church"? Yeah, that was the saying she was looking for. She knocked on the door before entering, but found it empty. She looked around the office for a bit, noticing the picture on his desk. It was of him and what looked like the man who was at his apartment the last time she'd seen him.

"…Anya?"

She jumped, startled. Alfred was in the doorway, a puzzled expression on his face as he looked her up and down.

"You… you look nice…" he mumbled. "…But what are you doing here?"

Anya smiled as Alfred shut the door behind him, leaning against it. She bounced over to him, stretching on her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek, giggling.

"I just came to visit you darling… you never stop by anymore~!"

Alfred pushed her away, keeping himself composed. "That's because I can't see you anymore. You left, and that was for the better. If Arthur catches us, I'll be fired, Anya." he moved over behind his desk, shuffling some papers around in order.

"So… you don't want to see me?"

"…No Anya, I don't."

The silence was awkwardly painful. Anya's smile had faded slightly and her eyebrows knit together in confusion and hurt. She chuckled sarcastically.

"So I… I, um… take the time to… to look nice… or, your standardization of nice, anyway… and talk my boss into letting me come across town to… see you… I let him DOCK MY PAY!" she raised her voice for a moment, before returning to bitter sarcasm, "…And you don't wanna see me… Heh… Thanks. Thanks a fucking lot."

She stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind her. She moved past some other policemen, including Arthur, before heading out the door and up the street. Alfred quickly ran out after her, frustrated with the whole situation.

"Anya!" he shouted as he ran up the street after her. "Anya, stop!"

Anya continued to move, however, her combat boots proving very useful. Alfred had chased her all the way back up to her place of "work", and she was banging on the seemingly invisible door. Alfred was making his way down the alleyway as the door opened, Anya slipping inside. Al stuck his foot in, stopping it from closing and following her. At the end of the hall, Anya was yelling desperately on the boss's door.

"Anya, hold on a seco—"

He cut off as the door opened, a man with bright white hair stepping out in front of Anya. He pulled off his sunglasses, showing intense, albino-red eyes. His smirk was confident, cocky even, as he crossed his arms, looking from Anya to Alfred and back again.

"I counted the minutes, precious. You're down thirty-eight bucks. And as for you…" he snickered, locking his gaze on Alfred. "Let's talk~"