You wanted to do this to distract yourself, didn't you? Paddy thought, amused in an almost mean way by the spaced out look of the younger one.
"Charlie?" he asked and the other turned his head quickly to him:
"Hm?"
"It's your turn."
"Ah" he said looking at the cards in his hands, then to the ones on the table before his eyes went up to Paddy again: "What am I ought to do now again?"
And he let his head sink like an embarrassed child when the older man started to laugh.
"Sorry" he gave back but Paddy continued to chuckle:
"Don't be, Blind Don just wasn't a good idea for distraction, eh?"
Charlie flashed a bright smile but the eyes looked as tired as before:
"Distraction? From what?"
"Oh, I don't know, whatever is brooding in that messy head of yours" Paddy gave back, collecting the cards.
"What should be brooding in there?" Charlie asked, handing him the cards he held and the other shrugged:
"I don't know but you really do seem occupied by something else. And tired."
"Didn't you know it's fashionable now to have dark circles down to the knee" Charlie muttered, the other only sighing and it got quiet in the room. Unlike it was in Charlie's head.
If you don't stop goofing around, then, yes, then one day it'll be too late, it'll come back to bite you in the arse, one day it will have consequences, one day you are playing the knight of ethics and morals in shiny armour and you'll fall down, deep, and break every bone. Or you'll get every bone broken, every last one because you were so high up on your damn horse you didn't notice anything else, one day somebody will come and make you pay -
"Do you want to talk about it?"
This time Charlie cringed, almost jolted before he looked at Paddy, who just smiled friendly at him. He looked so different, but Charlie couldn't grasp why. Maybe it was the grey streaks he noticed in his hair or how grey the scruff on his face looked? The countless wrinkles around his eyes? He looked so old, but he did always, it couldn't be it -
"Charlie?"
"It's nothing of importance, I'm just…" he started before sighing exasperated. "I am just thinking about yesterday."
"And what's the part of yesterday you're caught up on?"
"Me" Charlie answered in the same tone, angry with himself and rubbed his temples. But when he heard the other's answer, he had to stare back with surprise:
"Still?"
"Still, what do you mean still –" he started but Paddy waved his hand:
"You stood there like a pillar of salt after Robert blamed you, didn't you think I would count one and one together?"
"But he was right –"
"He lied. He lied for whatever reason, he just wanted to worry you."
"I don't care why he said it, he was right!" Charlie bellowed, out of nowhere and for a second he worried.
Not in that tone, Charlie. Don't be such a bitch towards your own father. This discussion is over.
"Right with what, Charlie?" Paddy however asked, still calm and without any sort of resentfulness in his voice.
Its sound made the one of his father vanish.
"That I did unnecessary things and took time I didn't have …" he carried on and swallowed, leaning back on the couch: "You've got to understand, I am just … I talk too much and don't do enough at times, whenever it is important."
"You do talk a lot, that's undeniable." Paddy's answer made Charlie cringe, like a short stab to the heart but he relaxed when the other carried on: "But you did exactly the right thing last night. Who knows, maybe I delayed it more than you with taking that stupid laptop? Or the other two with taking the knives? In fact, it was the best to take the chance and get Robert out of the way. You did nothing wrong."
"And what is about the salt pillar? Paddy, I don't know what would've happened if you wouldn't have gotten me out of this! And this" he had pulled something out of his pocket, slamming it onto the table; it was the handle of the ballistic knife from yesterday. "This was total bullshit as well! This stupid … prank, this – "
"You would have snapped out of it yourself!" Paddy said harshly, putting the cards he had been fondled with over the last minute on the table. "Charlie, you are crying over spilt milk. Pray tell me why."
"Because it could've killed Harry" he said, almost choked out. "Because I could have fucked up big time and get my best friend killed. All because I let the words of a bully get too close to me. You know, that's why I was tossing and turning last night because the more I thought about it the more stupid it became. I am 25, I should really be above letting words affect me and I just – "
He took a deep breath, gesturing with his hands but only ending it with a shake of his head:
"I thought I would be through with this."
"With words getting to you?" Paddy had cocked an eyebrow. "This will never stop, no matter how old you get. It'll always hurt you, it'll always affect you in some way. I think you already learnt to handle it pretty well throughout school, though."
"You think so, huh?" Charlie asked, wanting to cry but no water gathered in his eyes. "Then how do you explain the salt pillar?"
"You are really hung up on this, aren't you?"
"Paddy, I wasn't able to move, I just stood there and gaped – See, that's another thing that haunted my dreams last night, this wanker's face. He looked so goddamn spooky and by that I don't mean his general ugliness!"
The last comment made Paddy crack up, which, in return, made Charlie smile. He felt as if this man's voice could make everything okay; at least could assure you that everything would be okay.
"Stress situation and hitting the nail on the head – for you at least. You have been worried that would've screwed up and that is what he told you. And you believed him. That was the only mistake you made" the older one then explained.
Of course. It was all so simple. And me Idiot fell for it. Great job, Charlie.
Charlie just wanted to be swallowed by the ground.
"You heard what you wanted and you wanted to hear that you fucked up. But that will change, because, with the time, your survival instinct will roar louder than your self-doubt. It's sink or swim and you're swimming with sharks in this world."
"I've been flailing my arms around for the past four years, old man" Charlie said, voice hoarse as if he was frightened by something terrible. "I am not swimming, I am not even trying to, apparently. Otherwise we wouldn't have this conversation. Otherwise I wouldn't have nightmares."
Paddy's lips twitched into a small smile, almost amused. Almost.
"It takes time, Charlie. You, for example, also don't have to worry about it 24/7. You go home, you close the door of your flat behind you and you leave this world. No, actually you're carefree the minute you walk out of the office or you'll complete a mission. Don't take it as criticism, I just want to say that it is normal for you to act like this. I've heard my first bullets when I was seven; I grew up in a civil war. My mother was afraid that her son wouldn't come tonight whenever she heard of another car bomb in the radio. And she and my father told me a thousand times what to do if I'd get robbed or threatened or encounter a terrorist. My voice of self-preservation got fed very early and it affected almost every part of my life. And you will learn it with time, too – To not only rely on your instincts when you're at the risk of your life but whenever it could get you or somebody else at the verge of death. You'll learn how to swim faster than you think; You'll learn that instead of saying 'I can't' you only need to say 'Doesn't matter if I can or cannot. I have to so we'll find out.' And I'll be here to help you with it." The smile now was genuine: "I promised to keep you safe after all, this includes teaching you how to do it yourself."
"Thank you, old man" Charlie said, burying his face in his hand, exhaling deeply.
"And Charlie? The nightmares will never stop. No matter what you do; they are one of the many prices we pay. But I can lend you my shoulder if you want to cry about them."
He patted his own shoulder, the sound of flesh on flesh resounding loudly despite the shirt he wore.
"It's a really broad shoulder, it can carry a heavy burden."
Charlie looked up and smiled, first tiredly and fake again but it grew wider. Batting his eyelashes, he drove the tears in his eyes away.
"Thank you, old man. Thank you a lot. I think … I think I will be able to manage this."
"The thing that can keep Charlie Higgins from standing back up once he gets beaten down has to be yet invented, I believe" Paddy said, coaxing a cocky grin out of Charlie.
The younger Irishman tugged on his shirt, leaning back and putting his arms on the backrest:
"What can I say? In the end I am unbeatable."
"Except for Blind Don it seems."
"Did I just hear a challenge?"
"Do you want me to explain it and try it once more?"
"It's better than sitting around and twiddling my thumbs, so bring it on!"
While Paddy mixed the cards up again, putting the ones aside they wouldn't need, Charlie looked around the room. In the end, his eyes went back to the handle, reminding him of something else:
"How do you think Frecky's date is going?"
"It is not a date, Charlie" Paddy buzzed back but Charlie held his hand up:
"Ah, let me get you up to said date, old man – he said himself it is one. Well, kind of a date. Half a date. Whatever, he did say that it wasn't business only."
Paddy frowned and stared at him for a few seconds before buzzing out a "Well then, I hope he's doing well and gets stuff done" before going back to sorting cards.
"And gets some reasonable sized portions of food" he added grumpily, making Charlie throw his head back and laugh:
"You will not get over this, will you?"
"If Vento wanted to lure us into liking him, he fucked up, I tell you. My sympathy is won with a hotel restaurant that serves my kind of food size. I hate fancy places, I tell you."
Charlie snorted again:
"Yes, you do tell me … and did during dinner. But how about I tell you we can just look for one of those fast food places? They are usually still open around this time and offer good ol' pizza as much as you want. Or do you wish to complain some more?"
Paddy didn't face him, just looked down at the table until he answered:
"Can't win Blind Don on an unsatisfied stomach, let's go."
Charlie grinned again but said nothing, picking the handle up and spun it between his fingers:
"And who knows, maybe Vento told his right hands to keep an eye on us? Maybe we'll run into the Bontades and can give them back their knife handle? Maybe they'll express a little gratitude? ~"
"You are silly" was Paddy's only comment while he got up and Charlie shrugged after he let the knife handle slide into his pocket:
"A man can dream, can't he? Dream that life could be a Z-Class Porno. Well, the plan fails anyways since I am no builder or delivery guy but maybe …"
"Maybe you shouldn't be so caught up in naughty fantasies and grab your key so we can go. Also, leave the handle here, maybe they didn't even get the knife out of the wall?" Paddy said, standing behind Charlie now.
"Why shouldn't they, they managed to get it out all the times before."
"Before it was stuck in Cameras, not concrete, Charlie, try to –"
"Wait" Charlie interrupted him, a thoughtful, almost worried look on his face as he looked upwards at him. "Why didn't he grab the knife?"
"Who?"
"Robert. It was right within his reach once he was standing, why didn't he took the opportunity?"
The slap Paddy gave him to the side of his head was gentle, not intended to hurt him, but made Charlie worry about his hair immediately.
"What do you care for this deadhead, Charlie? It's over, he is eventually in a hospital, you will not care about such irrelevant stuff now! Jesus, just go back to dreaming of getting laid and pizza. Grab your keys, lad."
"I just wondered, okay? But Aye Aye Captain, Pizza it is!" Charlie replied and got up, grabbing the keys from the bed before he frowned and turn around:
"Wait."
"Charlie, I am hungry – "
"Did you want to imply that there will be Pizza when I get laid? We are still speaking of Italians here. Sicilians. A threesome and Pizza?"
Paddy stared at him in horror, sheer bafflement and disapproval for a few seconds before he turned around and opened the door:
"I'll be on my way for pizza, you can see for yourself."
"Pizza and a threesome, Paddy! Pizza! Threesome! Sex with sweet southerners! Involving Pizza!"
"Yes, Pizza! Move your arse a bit faster, Charlie and don't yell like that in the hotel corridor!"
"Well, you were yelling, too!"
"But I didn't yell sex all down the corridor!"
Two people lurked around the corner, watching the strange duo leaving towards the elevator.
"Do you think we should report that to the executive suite?" Jones asked.
"Better … better not. We'll just … leave them alone" Taylor sighed.
"Want to silence the Irish lamb?" Harry asked but Michele only smiled cockily, looking at him from the corner of his eye as walked into the kitchen again:
"I thought more of eating you out."
That answer left Harry stunned, fumbling with his collar.
"To hell with subtlety, huh?" he muttered to himself before the other called:
"Would you like water or something else?"
"Water's fine" he answered, tapping his fingers on the table.
What should they even talk about? What did he want to achieve here?
I think I like you more than I should; I think I have a crush on you; I am pretty sure I am attracted to you; Would you give me a chance?; Would you like to date me?
His mind hadn't slowed down when Michele came back, putting down another plate and a glass of water in front of him as well as a napkin. As his eyes went to the dessert, his thoughts were finally swiped away by a new one:
How am I supposed to eat this?
'This' were two fried dough rolls filled with whipped cream or something along the lines of it, half a cherry at both ends.
"What's the matter?" the other asked and when Harry looked at him, his unspoken question was answered; Michele had wrapped the napkin around one of his and was just about to bite into one end.
"Nothing" he replied, quickly doing the same with his. The taste was sweet but not disgustingly sweet. The fried dough, the cream cheese, even the sugar cherry blended in perfectly with the rest. The only problem was the eating itself because whenever he took a bite it was pushing the cheese out on the other side.
At least it was amusing his dinner partner. Bastard, Harry thought and looked grimly over to the chuckling Sicilian:
"What's so funny?"
"Oh, nothing" he replied. "But maybe I should've told you that it is easier if you eat from both sides – It saves you that mess you have there right now."
"Well, thanks for telling me now" he gave back just as grimly as his look and Michele just smiled a little spitefully:
"You still got one left."
They didn't spoke any more until both of their plates were empty, Harry feeling as full and satisfied like he hadn't felt for a while.
"So, Harry … Do you have something you'd like to talk with me about?" Michele asked and Harry could feel his heart speed up. He had to force himself to look at the other as well:
"If I may be honest … yes."
Then he leant back, hands folded over his stomach: "On the other hand, I am feeling way too lazy for anything."
It was obviously written in Michele's face that he tried to hold a laugh back before clearing his throat and smiling:
"How about we walk it off with a stroll? That helps in most cases and I heard conversation is easier when you walk."
Harry thought about it for a while but came to the conclusion that if Michele hadn't tried to kill him so far he wouldn't try it now.
"Is it safe out there?" he asked and Michele rubbed the back of his other hand:
"Worried about Arthur? I made sure he doesn't interfere, but if you want me to check, I can do so."
"How?" Harry asked with a raised eyebrow and Michele just smiled mysteriously:
"Do you think I wouldn't have my eyes and ears everywhere in my own territory?"
He pulled his phone out of his pocket and Harry regretted what he did next the second he had done it:
"Oh, so that was a phone, I thought you were just happy to see me."
Michele stared at him for a second before he snickered and went back to his phone:
"No, just a phone, Harry …"
He started to tap his fingers again, closely listening as somebody answered the call Michele had put on speaker:
"Che Michele?"
"How is it going? Signore O'Connel here is a little worried that somebody might interrupt our dinner."
"Oh, is he?" Whoever it was of the two, he sounded ticked off.
"He can hear you, Lorenzo."
There was an audible sigh before the other carried on: "Everything is alright here, not a single trace of an Englishman or anything else around the house."
There was something in the background, somebody else saying something, but they couldn't make out what was said.
"Well then. Are you feeling safer now?" Michele said and Harry smiled faintly:
"Depends. They won't assassinate me without your permission, right?"
"They wouldn't dare" Michele gave back while Lorenzo just replied with a short "No."
"And you wouldn't give them permission, would you?" Harry asked and Michele frowned offended, ending the call with a "Keep up the good work" before he addressed Harry:
"Would you please stop acting as if I'd want to get rid of you by hook or by crook? The joke's not that funny."
"Apparently, since none of us laughed" the Irish gave back tiredly, looking at the table after it.
"It wasn't much of a joke in first place, now was it?"
Harry didn't want to answer and instead kept staring at the table, one hand on it and wanting to tap his fingers again so badly.
"Harry, I barely know you" Michele started again. "I have not harmed you in any way over the last days. Or, well – "
"Or well?" Harry interrupted him, almost glaring at him yet his look had something questioning as well.
"I have not hurt you. However, I invaded your personal space and I am still terrible sorry. I should have known better than letting my … "
"Drives take control?" Harry tried to help out, still sounding a bit resentful. But the kind, this time even embarrassed and apologetic smile on Michele's fade let that resentment fade.
"Letting my curiosity get the best of me. Or my fascination, I really don't know how to describe my feelings for you. And last night, in that box, there was also the fact that we could have died. I didn't want to waste any chances. And the thing when you wanted to look in my kitchen? I don't like it when people put their nose into my cooking."
He had started to pick at the skin at the back of his hand now: "Which is still idiotic and not even a good explanation, but it is all that I can say."
He looked at Harry: "That and that I regret it a lot as well as that it'll not happen again, I promise. Keeping my fingers by myself now unless permission is granted."
I didn't even mind it in the box had been Harry's first thought. You can get permission all you want if you meant that sorry seriously had then followed and he fumbled with his collar again.
"I'm feeling a bit restless; I think we should carry that conversation on during our walk" Harry said, loosening his tie a bit, cursing him for putting it on in first place.
"Lovely idea. Do you want to get rid of your tie?" Michele asked, the other answering "Yes please" without hesitation but stopped when Michele added: "Want me to take it off for you?"
It was just a silly flirt, of course it was. Otherwise he wouldn't have cocked an eyebrow when Harry said "Sure darling."
He let go of his tie and stood up to grant Michele coming over to him a better access.
"It looks very good on you though" the Sicilian said while hooking his fingers under the knot. They felt pleasantly warm and soft on Harry's skin, the fingernails weren't scratching when he pulled it away. He could still feel the heat of the other's body when he untucked it from the waistcoat, the Irish being sure Michele made as much contact as he could on purpose.
Harry could still hear his heart beat thumping in his ears when Michele put the tie on the table; it almost skipped a beat when the other turned to him with a smile:
"Ready to go?"
"Always" he answered and followed Michele to the door, cringing slightly when the cold air from outside hit him.
"Want a jacket?" the other asked but Harry shook his head:
"Survived worse without."
"It'd still be a pity if you'd catch a cold."
"I haven't caught one yesterday, I will not catch one now" Harry replied and went out of the door, Michele chuckling before quickly catching up with him.
"Where are we going?" Harry asked and Michele shrugged:
"What do you think of a trip around the coast? The sunset will look nice from there."
Harry kept the As long as I will not be pushed from any cliffs to himself and instead simply nodded.
After they left the property and crossed the street, Michele started to talk again:
"So … do you want to go back to our conversation?"
Harry bit his lip before smiling faintly: "Sure. I'd like to ask you what you meant with fascination."
The dry earth and grass crunched under their feet as they went further along, Michele laughing almost embarrassed and gesturing with his hands:
"This will sound so weird."
"That's what love and the like usually is."
He laughed again and Harry wanted to listen to that rich and freed laughter for hours. It didn't sound as smooth as one expected from his voice but it sounded so happy.
"True that" Michele grinned before sighing: "Alright. Fascination you asked. Maybe it is just the hugest crush I ever had on somebody, but those aren't exclusive, are they now?
"Anyways, let get things clear right here and now then: I like the way you look, sexual attraction is definitely present."
He paused and looked at Harry who looked back a bit clueless:
"What reaction are you hoping to get …?"
"Oh, nothing, some people are just uncomfortable with that kind of stuff."
"I am not that prude" he said, adding "How could I be else friends with Charlie" way more quietly. Michele pursed his lips but relaxed again within a second.
"They can be different reasons but since you are fine with it, let's move on. I like your temperament, I like how much willpower you have. Somebody who knows what he wants is definitely attractive and you … I have only scratched the surface but I sense so much more. I think you're humorous and kind and I enjoy your company a lot."
He kept silent for a while and Harry once more paid attention to the sea stretching along the horizon. The sun had started to set just this minute, bathing everything in golden light.
"That is all I have for now. It's not much, but it has only been three days anyways."
"Exactly" Harry agreed and Michele chuckled. His chuckle was way more like his voice in general and somehow Harry doubted it was the wind that sent a shiver down his spine. Wind usually didn't make you shiver in a pleasant way.
"But it was enough time for you making me so interested that I am dying to know more. That's pretty unusual."
"Should I feel flattered?" Harry asked, grinning at him and Michele only smirked back:
"Please do." Then he shrugged: "My point of view. Do you want to tell me something too, Harry?"
Here I go.
He cleared his throat and slowed his steps, looking at Michele:
"I first should say that before I met you I really thought I was straight."
Michele chuckled again and Harry looked at the ground, biting his lip.
"Well, there is a first time for everything" he said, Michele smiling:
"You're right. Sometimes a single thing can change your mind."
"You said it. So, I have to say that I think you, too, are pretty … handsome. And especially tonight I noticed that … well, I like you. You seem really nice and I don't mind your company at all at this point as well."
He sighed, looking upwards before turning to Michele: "And I liked the kiss."
Michele gasped as if he just got something off his chest.
"Thank god" he said. "I wasn't sure if you just kissed back because of a panic reaction or because you actually wanted to kiss me."
Harry couldn't help but laugh, rubbing his eyes once he was done.
"Dear Lord" he chuckled and Michele frowned with a smile:
"What's so funny, bello?"
The Irish slapped his arm gently with the back of his hand: "It's nothing, you are just so damn worried about little things."
"Is a kiss a little thing?" Michele asked, making Harry tilt his head. It took him a little to come to an answer:
"Fair enough, it can be a big one, too."
They didn't talk for a while, just kept walking until they reached the end of the cliff. Harry dared to lean forward, but downwards was only beach; the waves didn't crash against the shore, making foam splashing and dancing on top.
No unicorns in sight here.
He had to grin at the memory running through his head, at the mere thought of Sophie, happy and well at home, when Michele asked:
"So I like you and you like me. What should we do now?"
Harry took a deep breath and turned back to him: "It's way too early to start dating, isn't it?"
"Would you like to date me?"
"It'd be stupid to not give the man a chance who made me realize that I am not straight."
"But you think it is too early."
"Don't you too?"
"It'd be too early to start a relationship. But dating? Going out and getting to know each other …"
Michele had come closer, Harry noticed.
"Finding out with what we two are comfortable … Dating sounds just perfect to me."
Harry only shrugged, smiling at him: "If you say so. I will admit it right here and now, the only two girls I ever seriously dated were friends of mine. I am not a romance expert."
Michele took another step towards him: "Never had any girls fawning over you?"
Harry grinned: "Not if they stayed as long in the pub as I did on the same evening."
Michele laughed again, making Harry's grin spread further across his face.
"They really missed out on the wonderful man you're sober" he then said and Harry rolled his eyes:
"Will you keep that sweet-talk up?"
"You'll have to bear it a little longer if you want to date me" he answered and Harry sighed.
"I'll survive it" he gave back.
"Was that a Yes I'll date you?"
"No, I am sorry Michele, I'd like to give you a written answer, signed and with a copy for myself" he gave back and Michele pouted, leaning in to him:
"I am sorry if I don't want to rely on what I read between the lines when it is so important."
"Yes, I want to date you, Michele Vento. Do you still need me to sign anything for that?" he asked, making Michele chuckle.
"No" the Sicilian answered. "But if you want to we can seal the 'deal' with a kiss."
Harry's heart thudded like it wanted to jump out of his chest, his fingers didn't know what to hold on to.
Michele was maybe 10 inches, eventually less, away from him. And he looked good, so damn attractive in the low light the sun casted. It was so …
"Did you plan this? A fucking cliché kiss during sunset?" Harry asked hurriedly and Michele chuckled.
"I didn't but now you pointed it out – it seems convenient. A cliché ending for your cliché story. And a so much nicer one than dying in a box."
"I'll take the crappy gangster story over a 1,50€ romance novelette any day" Harry answered, having to join when Michele burst in laughter.
"You are ruining the moment" the Sicilian giggled, opening his arms: "Do you want a kiss or not?!"
"Oh, I am trembling with desire, Casanova!" Harry cackled, paralyzed when Michele took one quick step towards him, grabbed his head and pulled him into a kiss.
He couldn't manage to close his eyes, trembling when Michele's lips softly pressed against his. It felt like the last time and yet so much better, so much more intense. Michele's hands were warm, his eyes were closed and he looked relaxed.
Instincts took over; Harry closed his eyes as well, put his hands on Michele's and tilted his head, returning the pressure on his lips.
The Sicilian's hands slid upwards, fingers slightly bending, wanting to dig into the ginger hair -
Michele broke the kiss and pulled away, Harry dropping his hands as well.
"How was it?" he whispered, still cupping Harry's face with his right hand. "Did you like it?"
"More" was Harry's only answer, his hand going back to Michele's, turning his head to kiss his palm. "More kisses" he whispered.
"Oh bloody hell!" The well-known voice coming from behind a tree to their left made both of them jump.
And the click of a gun didn't help relaxing at all.
"I'd say go and get a room" Arthur started when he stepped into their field of sight, the gun in his hands pointed at them. "But that won't be necessary anymore."
He looked messy – His hair, his clothes, even the leather gloves on his hand looked sweaty and crunched up.
"How did you get here?" Michele asked. His tone was far from the friendly, playful one he had spoken in the last time they met Arthur.
"Doesn't matter. But if you really want to know – crawled through dirt and bushes to hide from the eyes of those little boys of yours. I'd never thought I would have to get my hands that dirty when it comes to you. And you stay there" he said to Harry who had leaped forward into his direction.
"Coward" Harry growled and Arthur rolled his eyes.
"What do you want me to do, taking chances? Should I take my glove off and challenge you to a duel? Not that I would mind the part of slapping you across the face, but it's not the time to play white knight in this business. It never is. And how do they say? It's all fair in love and war."
Arthur grinned but it didn't seem genuine. Not that anything could ever look genuine for Harry when it came to Arthur Kirkland.
"All is fair in love and war" Michele gave back, still standing mostly with his back turned towards the Englishman. "If you quote then quote right."
"Can't be bothered to remember correctly something a Frenchman said" Arthur replied with a shrug. "Any last words from your side?"
"How about any last wishes for once?" Michele said, followed immediately by Harry's: "Go back to where you came from, you bastard."
"I didn't plan on using that one way ticket to hell. It has your name on it anyways, O'Connel." He bent the finger on the trigger: "And you are terrible late for your check in already."
"I pass, but don't you have a season ticket? I am sure they are waiting for their special guest already."
Harry took another step forwards but Arthur hissed: "I told you to stay there. Can't stop causing trouble, can you? That's all you Irish ever did – Causing me one problem after another. But that's over now. No Irish, no problems."
"You will not fucking win this, Arthur."
"Tell me how you want to stop me. You're dead, your friends will follow. And do you think I haven't gotten a plan for McAlistair? You're the first clean job. No bloody revenge, just me finally having peace on those godforsaken Isles."
Arthur looked tired. Less like a murderer but like somebody who had a really long day at work and was just doing his job. "And Vento? Even if I can't get a hold of what used to be yours, the two Vargas will be there in a second and take it. You wanted to build up what your father ruined; you pushed your luck and lost. Happens to the best of us. Just like dying."
"Dio mio, Arthur, just be a gentleman for once!" Michele complained, pulling Harry back. "Stop saying these nasty things and let us have one last kiss."
"Michele, are you stupid – "
"Hush, bello, don't spoil this."
"It's none of my business if you want to die tasteless while snogging but just get it on then" Arthur said impatiently. "Spares me a bullet anyways."
Michele smiled kindly at him before he turned to Harry with the same smile. The Irishman couldn't give him one back - His face had murder written in it.
"You are stupid" he snarled but Michele put a finger on his lips.
Then he whispered "Duck" and threw himself at Harry as a gunshot fell.
"Do you think Michele will be pissed cause we locked the gate?" Marco asked.
The wind blew through their hair and clothes.
"Nah" Lorenzo answered.
God, they really hated waiting. And doing shit for people they didn't like. And now they had to spend their time twiddling their thumbs just so Michele and that nasty idiot were safe.
"Do you think he'll be successful with his plans?" Lorenzo asked back. Marco tilted his head, looking at sky.
"Yeah" he gave back and they sighed in unison.
"We'll have to deal with that O'Connel more" Marco grumbled.
"We'll have to see that Higgins again" Lorenzo moaned.
"And Michele will be all over that freckled dude!"
"Bleurgh!"
"Oh god, what if those eyebrows are actually small parasites!"
"And then they'll crawl off at night and eat big brother's brain!"
They both giggled, glad that they could; no Michele telling them not to be so rude in sight.
"He didn't have any long lasting relationship when it came to the job anyways" Marco carried on, happier than before.
"Business partners, yeah, but lovers? The pink glasses will fade one day" Lorenzo agreed, grabbing the binocular to scan the area again. Still nothing special.
They were quiet again, Marco checking his rifle for the only god knew what time already when Lorenzo's phone rang.
"Pronto?"
"Oi, Lorenzo, do you remember last year when you dared me to eat that family sized pizza all on my own and I couldn't do it?" Alessia Yanni asked on the other end.
"Alessia, shouldn't you be working?" Lorenzo asked smugly, almost hearing the young woman rolling her eyes at him:
"Guess what, bitch, I am. I am doing my work – Daniele, am I doing my work?"
The other's voice was way quieter but still clear: "She is doing her work excellently if I am allowed to say so, Signore Bontade."
"You heard that?"
"Laterza's new, he's just trying to flatter you" Lorenzo mocked her, snickering at her response:
"Either you stop being a little shit or I won't tell you that awesome story I have."
"Listening, bella."
"So, we were keeping an eye on those Irishman, still are, and they went out. And I swear to god, that giant just terminated a family pizza. That man must have a black hole instead of a stomach! Also, I lost 30 euro and a drink to Daniele cause I said he wouldn't be able to do that."
"Is that really why you called me?"
"Dude! This is the most amazing thing I've ever saw! Is our padrino gonna keep those guys? Cause he should!"
"We'll see tonight" Lorenzo sighed amused, another call coming through. "I'll have to hang up now, keep up the good work."
"You bet your ass I will! Am I right Daniele?"
He ended the call before he could hear Laterza's answer, switching to the next:
"Che Michele?"
"How is it going? Signore O'Connel here is a little worried that somebody might interrupt our dinner."
"Oh, is he?" Lorenzo asked sarcastically.
"He can hear you, Lorenzo."
He sighed deeply before pushing the dislike out of his voice as well as he could: "Everything is alright here, not a single trace of an Englishman or anything else around the house."
"No need for him to worry his freckled ass off" Marco sneered, his brother nodding in approval.
"Well then. Are you feeling safer now?" Michele said and they could hear the Irishman:
"Depends. They won't assassinate me without your permission, right?"
"No" Lorenzo said, hearing Michele saying "They wouldn't dare."
"And you wouldn't give them permission, would you?" O'Connel's voice was back and Michele only told Lorenzo "Keep up the good work" before hanging up.
"I think he's pissed at O'Connel" Lorenzo said while putting his phone back into his pocket.
"Good" Marco said, checking his rifle again with a smile.
Just a few minutes later they saw Michele and the Irishman leave the house, heading towards the cliff across of them.
Lorenzo wanted to put the binoculars down already when he caught something else.
Somebody else.
He stared at the spot, wondering if he just saw a ghost when he the person appeared behind the bushes again.
"Damn it!" he cursed, making his brother looking alarmed at him. "How did that son of a bitch get here?! From where? Why didn't I see him? Why aren't they seeing him?!"
"Who?"
Lorenzo threw him the binoculars: "That Kirkland douche! Creeping in the bushes!"
"Aw fuck" Marco said. "Call Michele."
"At it" Lorenzo replied, pressing the phone to his ear. One beep, a second of silence. Another one. Michele didn't even seem to notice. A third one. Fourth. Fifth.
"Fuck your voicemail" Lorenzo growled at the mechanical voice, wanting to throw his phone far away.
"Do you think he left it at home?" Marco asked, eyes still on the other two.
"I am afraid he did, gimme the binoculars."
Marco checked his rifle once again, but faster this time, aiming at where he thought Arthur would be.
"Should we shoot now?" he asked.
"Or should we wait?" his brother said.
"I can't properly aim at him like this anyways, but if we wait – "
"He might take the chance. Warning shot?"
"Don't think it'd be helpful."
"I am calling him again."
But Lorenzo's second call was as successful as the first one.
"Michele you stupid bastard" he groaned frustrated, slamming the phone against his thigh.
"Great, hide behind a tree you fucking coward" Marco hissed beside him. He was lying on his belly, rifle steady on the ground and in both hands, one finger at the trigger.
Lorenzo looked again, now noticing the gun and gulped.
"Where are you going to shoot him?"
"Hands?"
"He has a gun."
"I know."
"And then you think hands are a good idea?"
"What about his legs?"
"He used to be an adventurer –"
"But then he took an arrow to the knee. Knee or foot sounds good."
The binocular almost fell out of Lorenzo's sweaty, cold hands, but he blamed that on the weather and the wind. He wasn't afraid, he wasn't upset, this was all over in a second -
And either his or our gun will decide over that. Come on, admit it, you are more scared and pumped than a cornered rabbit. Scared little bunny! Scared little bunny! Scared little bunnies and no big brother you can run to!
"There we go – Stop moving! Get your fucking ass out of the line!" Marco yelled, commenting on the actions across them:
Kirkland had left his hiding spot but just as he had stopped, O'Connel had jumped right in front of him, making it impossible for Marco to shoot the Englishman from this angle. He was already on his knees, ready to look for a better position when Lorenzo tugged at his sleeve: "Wait! Michele's telling us to wait!"
Grinding his teeth, Marco laid back down: "I hope he knows what he is doing."
"He's tilting his head to that Irish … I think he wants to get him out of line. Yeah, pretty sure he wants to get his ass aside so you can shoot."
"We don't have much time but alright Michele" Marco said, bending the finger at the trigger:
"And now have enough brains to stay fucking still, you leprechaun."