Mr. Beilschmidt's meeting was filled with nothing but potential points of attack, it were as if the designer had intended my charges demise, as the meeting was held in a room made almost entirely of glass at the height of a skyscraper. Indeed.

We had left the estate by helicopter, Beilschmidt had ignored me the entire journey, instead diverting his attention towards his mobile which beeped and spouted off noises after random expanses of time. The device, like the rest of Beilschmidt's belongings, was sleek and expensive. I mentally went through how to defuse a bomb to pass the time, while hunger and sleep twinged into my psyche when I allowed myself a moment of mental silence.

By the time of our arrival Beilschmidt had almost chewed through his lip, but his facial expression remained relaxed and cruelly sharp. Upon leaving the helicopter he had wiped every amount of expression from his face, even letting his battered lip slip free of his teeth. He smoothed back his hair in a way that told me it was a habit, straightened the suit that made him look sharper in every way imaginable, then walked towards the glass door only a few paces from the helipad, where his meeting would take place.

Standing here now, two breaths from the back of his chair, I could see how incredibly straight Beilschmidt sat in the expensive chair, using his dangerous eyes and quickness to banter smartly with his host while being distant and evasive at the same time. It was quickly evident that Beilschmidt had had vigorous training pertaining to this exact situation, every facet of his being screamed what I already knew about him, but there were so many things shrouded in darkness.

I exhaled evenly and let my eyes sweep the room again, I adjusted my stance minutely trying to account for the amount of damage there would be were this unstable structure to fall. Glass would rain from the sky were a bomb to be thrown, even the smallest of fractures could amount to be a fatal disaster. I shifted again. Beilschmidt shifted as well.

My eyes flickered to my charge as he kept up the conversation with the man across from them, his fingers playing delicately with the seam of his pants while the rest of him remained perfectly still.

I watched the man across from him while keeping Beilschmidt in my peripheral vision, watching both for any signs of distress.

Beilschmidt sat back suddenly, and let his legs fall apart widely, breaking an obviously tense moment in conversation, and for the first time let a grin sidle onto his face, making him look more sinister than ever. A ray of sunlight caught on the glass and bounced onto the desk in front of them. I was aware of every shadow, every motion, every breath taken, heart beating, and I was aware of the fact that Beilschmidt hadn't received a text since we landed, but in these past few seconds, it buzzed in perfect sequence of three seconds apart, five times.

Something was happening in five minutes. Gilbert knew it as well.

The man in front of us sat up sluggishly in his seat, surprised by the sudden atmospheric change and the exponential shift in demeanor Beilschmidt was presenting to him.

Figure it out. It was like Beilschmidt was begging the man to. Figure it out.

A minute passed in silence.

"Beilschmidt" The man said in a low tone, and my charge scoffed and crossed his legs, bringing up a hand to rest delicately along his pointy chin.

"Honestly." Beilschmidt drawled, his eyes dragged slowly to the man's face and I watched the room, watched the shadows, watched everything with a deathly whisper of excitement I couldn't bare to acknowledge.

Before a second could pass, before the word could hang in the air the way it was supposed to, Beilschmidt's eyes suddenly twirled to spear into mine. I couldn't stand not to catalogue the different sentences his eyes spoke. Understand. You have to understand. His eyes raged and quieted at the same time and of course I understood, I had known the second his phone made that idiotic chime for the first time, even when the shadows shifted in the same way Gilbert did, because for gods sake I was supposed to save him from an explosion he was going to execute perfectly.

I had three minutes.

Beilschmidt's eyes looked sharply back to the man, and I wondered what he possibly could have seen within mine to be able to escape so easily.

"Beilschmidt!" The man stood, and we watched as he hung in the air, great rolls of his colossal body now presented in a display of slowness I had only now encountered. His body swam through the air, through gravity, through everything. I watched him shove an arm into his jacket, little fingers grasped numbly for a weapon I took from him in seconds. My god, was he still searching?

I had two minutes.

He breathed in tandem, while his great heart rate was sure to rise. Bloodshot eyes shot to ones that screamed a sadistic passion, sharp and venomous.

"Do you know what-" He started, and cut himself off "can you imagi-" Beilschmidt bit his lip, but it wasn't in anxiety, he was trying to keep a smile from breaking his lips, shattering that careful mask that wasn't so indifferent after all.

Beilschmidt reached out a hand to me, and I gave him the other man's gun, the body's eyes followed the movement sluggishly, and only a little to fast for comfort. Fat lips hung open.

It started to smell like urine.

I had one minute left.

I watched the glass room, conscious of how utterly manic, insanely, depressingly genius. We were trapped. The stench wrapped around the enclosure and curled into our consciousnesses.

Beilschmidt had taken the gun from my fingers, and now held it demurely in his fingertips before bringing it to his mouth and giving it a soft kiss.

"We can leave now." He murmured softly against the weapon, and I wasted a millisecond to look into those eyes that whispered murder and screamed insanity, let my heart beat a second more than it should, and threw a knife through the man's neck to the most fragile point of the glass structure.

Blood splattered, glass rained in pieces of fire and death, loss and pain, and I grabbed my charge by the arm. My knife was gone, disappeared, served its purpose. We ran towards the door, through the door, was there ever a door?

We hurtled together with speed and excitement, passion that reflected in horrific red eyes and we jumped into open air.

Hey guys! I actually don't have that high of a following for this story, but I have been thinking about it a lot so I have finally mustered up the will to write anothr chapter for it. I am sorry it had been so long. I have a new person in my life that has encouraged me to get back into writing. It had been months since I have last written, so this was kind of short, I hope you will forgive me.

If you haven't- please read my more popular and completed story: He Paints the Color Red, it would mean a lot to me

Thanks, and I hope to update soon. -Serena