Description: Hell ends up on a business date with Schuldig.
bumptious \BUMP-shuhs\, adjective:
Crudely, presumptuously, or loudly self-assertive.
"The restaurant is one with fine manners. It's a very refined place. I wouldn't ask you to go, if I didn't have to," Hell said, crossing her arms and examining Crawford for any refusal. His eyes unfocused briefly, and then he frowned slightly.
"I think Schuldig would make a better dinner companion."
"What? You don't even have him housebroken. I told you this is a formal dinner where we can get close to Weiss and discover who keeps sending them on missions. This is a golden opportunity, and you'll ruin it by sending along that lout."
Crawford turned, patronizing. "Schuldig has a talent better suited to the task at hand. He'll have the information quickly and safely."
"Fine! But if he steps out of line..."
"I'll personally see to it that he won't," Crawford said, before going back to his office on the forty-second floor.
Hell admitted she was impressed. Schuldig had dressed down from his usual garish wardrobe; it was a plain gray suit. He also held open doors, addressed her politely, and ordered from the wine list. He was flawless. Now that they were seated in the formal restaurant, she scanned the crowd for any sign of Weiss.
"They're downstairs, in the cellar. Just two of them. They're getting ready to kill their target."
Hell looked across the table in amazement at Schuldig. The German man took a sip of wine.
"How do you know?"
"My secret, but you should know that they're clueless to the identity of their superior. Secret identities and all."
"Stop playing around, Schuldig. You better not hold anything back."
"Now, now. You know I've been low-key tonight, but if you'd like to join me in the basement, I could be my normal, bumptious self. We could catch the Weiss. We'll split them between Schreient and Schwarz. Or I could continue to be a perfect gentleman."
Hell smiled, rose from her seat, and took her clutch purse with a gun inside. "Since you insist."