Disclaimer: I do not own Human Target and intend no copyright infringement.

~ sleepwalker ~

A decent restaurant. Early evening.

"I hope she savors this", Guerrero muttered under his breath as he stepped through the restaurant's doors.

Chance looked at Ames, just climbing into the van with several bags of chips and a soft drink, followed closely by Winston who had brought ice cream.

"Oh yes, she does", he replied via earpiece.

"I've hacked into the restaurant's video feed", Winston announced. "We've got visuals."

"For the record: I do not owe her a favor." Guerrero's voice was a low growl.

"I agree with you, it's a gray area. But we discussed the matter and you were outvoted by Ilsa and Winston."

"And you, dude."

Chance was fighting hard to keep the grin out of his voice. Guerrero was already testy enough. "Sorry, but this was just too tempting…"

"I'll remember that, next time you need someone to back you up against Ilsa and Winston."

Chance decided to try the reasonable approach. "Ever since the incident in the back alley in Washington, Ames has been way too nervous around you. We can't have that, she needs to concentrate when on a job. Giving her the upper hand – once – will restore her self-confidence."

"Mark my words. I'll remember that."

Ames put in an earpiece, too. "I've reserved table number seven for you", she told Guerrero. "Now, you're really going to like Monica. She's a bit of a slut, but in a good way…"

"See it like that: She could have made you take part in a Mr. Wet T-shirt contest in the Castro instead." Winston was not fighting to keep the grin out of his voice as he switched to the feed from the cameras in the actual dining area.

Ames suddenly froze. "Oh…"

"What?"

"The girl at table number seven… that's not Monica. That's Daisy, a mutual friend. She's… she's nice, too, it's just…"

Meanwhile, Guerrero had made his way to the table. Daisy, a young woman of roughly Ames' age, chubby, short in build, with dark hair cut like a helmet, shot upward abruptly.

Too abruptly for the waiter who just happened to pass her by.

She knocked his fully laden tray off his hand with her shoulder and sent it flying in the direction of the next table where a woman with a not much longer cream-colored evening gown was sitting.

"…just don't order anything that needs to be flambéed", Ames continued hesitantly. "She's sort of… accident prone…"

Winston was rolling on the floor.

"Monica is very sorry but on short notice some important call came in and she couldn't make it", Daisy told Guerrero as they finally sat down. "She said your name is Sean but you prefer being called Rusty, so, hello, Rusty, I'm Daisy."

Chance looked at Ames: "Rusty?"

Ames shrugged her shoulders. "You told me to savor it…"

The van shook with Winston's laughter.

A knocked over burning candle later (wow, the waiter was really fast with the fire extinguisher!), they had made it to the appetizer: Salad.

The safest dish Guerrero could think of. Doesn't mean she couldn't wreak havoc with it.

"How many people exactly has she killed so far?", he murmured as she asked the waiter for a new fork.

You don't want to know what happened to the first one. Really.

First aid kit, anyone?

"Don't worry, usually she's the one on the receiving end of her mishaps…"

At this very moment, Daisy started choking on a piece of salad. Guerrero rushed over to her side and applied a Heimlich maneuver. "Maybe we should call it a day?", he suggested, still holding her in his arms.

"Oh no, really, I'll be more careful, I promise…" As she got up she tried to support herself with her left hand on the table, placing it directly on her new fork. Despite the pain, she continued talking. "It's been such a long time since I've been out. And I'm really enjoying your company, Rusty."

If not for the "Rusty", Guerrero had almost felt inclined to sit this evening through – she looked sad enough to touch even his well-protected heart a little. But being RUSTY for another one plus hour? No way.

Time to devise an escape plan.

In the van, Chance felt a bit sorry for the poor girl, too. She seemed like enjoyable company – with the appropriate protective clothing…

Then sudden movement on the camera feed from the alley behind the restaurant caught his attention. A car came speeding down the street, followed by another one in close pursuit. The first car rammed a couple of garbage cans, then skidded to a halt.

"Isn't that Harry?", Winston asked, now just as alert as Chance.

"Guerrero, looks like we've got a situation behind the restaurant."

Ah, the excuse he desperately needed! Guerrero rushed out of the restaurant and had just made it through the backdoor when someone opened fire. He took cover behind a garbage can and pulled out his gun. Winston and Chance were approaching from the other side.

"Harry's in the first car!", Chance shouted. "I'll give you cover!"

Guerrero, who was nearest to the vehicle in question, ducked and ran to the driver's door in a hail of bullets. With one swift move he managed to grab Harry by his jacket.

"Never thought I'd say that, but I'm happy to see you, dude", he told him as he threw him to the ground.

"Nelly", Harry coughed. "You've got to save Nelly."

A/N: another-all-nighter: When I started drafting "all the good girls", the ending was the only thing I knew had to be in it; glad you like it!