You want to tell Victor no. Thanks but no thanks, you aren't cut out for a life of crime like you thought you'd be. He would understand, you think, maybe even let you off easy and just go straight back to the safety of the hotel. He'd figure something else out and you could go back to your boring, ordinary life and watch his house change hands from the safety of the sidewalk.

That's what you want to do. Instead you sit in the car with Victor in downtown Pittsburg, sunglasses clutched in your hand and your knee jumping up and down while you wait for him to give you the signal to go. It's not that you're worried about getting hurt - even though, okay, you kind of are - but mostly you're just scared that you will mess up and blow the whole thing, and then Victor will finally realize what a stupid plan it was to hire you in the first place.

You've opted for every conceivable distraction from your face, at least for the first location. Sunglasses, William, hair down. Still, your stomach is in knots while you watch the mark sitting in his own car, staring all paranoid in every which way and acting horribly observant. William can sense your distress and is tap dancing back and forth in the backseat, waiting for whatever it is you're all keyed up about.

A warm hand places itself on your knee, and you jolt in surprise.

"This first one is a blank slate," Victor says in a low, steady voice. You turn to look at him, and his thumb runs a soothing back and forth on the outside of your knee as he continues. "You're just somebody who happens to be walking their dog in the same direction as some random guy. You're thinking about your day ahead and your to-do list, and nothing interests you about him."

You stare back into his eyes and nod, focusing on the weight of his hand and trying to force yourself to breath deeply.

"This is about power, and pretending not to have it. You are the only thing he has to be afraid of, and the game is not letting him know that. Now go."

He lifts his hand away from your leg, and your head swivels to look out the window and see the mark disappearing down the sidewalk. It's instant the way you've got your sunglasses on and you're already out the door and grabbing William from the back seat, and you're walking. Away from the safety of the car and the known, and towards the uncertain adventure of your new life. Well, you try, but William insists on immediately stopping to pee on a tree.

But it turns out that your dog is a fantastic accomplice. He gives you a really natural distraction for your eyes, and an excuse to stop when you need to or pick up the pace when the mark gets too far ahead. You keep your body loose and just hope that you'll make all your mistakes before your first change of clothes, he won't remember you as the weird idiot behind him.

Block after block you walk, and you begin to realize that you're actually doing just fine. The mark is being far more suspicious than you, with his jerky scans of the area, never once giving you a single glance. But then he makes a sudden change in course to cross an inconvenient street, and you pull out your phone while your feet walk past it.

"Yeah," Victor answers immediately.

"He's changing direction." You give him the street name and where you are.

"Meet me at the curb of the Starbucks ahead on your right. Be ready to change."

William makes a beeline for a trash can, and it gives you an excuse to spot your mark again where he's fidgeting while he waits to cross the street. Perfect.

You meet with Victor, and your blood is pumping, but not from nerves this time. It's like your body has switched everything up, deciding that this is actually a fun game, and one it wants to win. A hoodie and jeans are waiting for you in the front seat, and you're so in the zone that you're basically done changing in the time it takes Victor to give William a treat and a head rub.

"Want me to drop you off further up?" he asks.

"No." Your hand is already on the door handle. "I'm going from here. See you."

You aren't waiting for a reply, you're just out the door and striding down the sidewalk, tossing your hair in a messy bun on top of your head. The mark is halfway across the street and if you jog you could just make that light… but you don't. You meander. Traffic is moving again by the time you arrive, and you just take that time to calculate your mark's retreating figure and how long it will take you to catch up at an ordinary speed.

You decide Hoodie Girl walks faster than Dog Girl, so it will feel natural. Hoodie Girl is annoyed to be out here with all the common folk, and keeping her elbows away from the people nearby. But the seconds are ticking by and you've now lost sight of your mark, and the panic really starts to set in that this was a colossal mistake. In an effort to avoid suspicion, you completely failed the mission. He could be up there crossing different streets by now, totally gone with no way of finding him or catching up.

It's finally time to cross, and you phone vibrates in your pocket.

"Hello?"

Victor's voice comes through on the other side. "He's going slow now, still heading straight. You'll be able to see him if you just keep going."

Sweet, sweet relief. "Thanks."

"So what's the story with that hoodie?"

You're nearly to the other curb by now, walking fast, but the question takes you by surprise and it takes you a few seconds to process it. "Not that it's any of your business, but it's my ex's old hoodie."

"Doesn't smell like him."

Hoodie Girl's irritation is real now, and you channel it into your stride. "I'm sorry, do you have scent preferences for your stay at my house? Do you need me to douse all my clothes in alcohol for your sensitive nose? Or is this your way of saying I stink?"

There's a long pause, and Victor says, "I know what your ex smells like, his scent is all over the house. But that hoodie is the only thing that smells like someone else."

Oh. OH. Is it… actually possible he's talking about your Tinder hookup? Can he sense that with his mutation? Embarrassment runs through you, and that just makes you angry because you didn't do anything wrong.

"Again, none of your business, boss."

"Normally I'd agree, but it's also got your fear all over it, and that particular combo's been worrying me."

You huff in irritation and further embarrassment, and switch the phone to your other ear. Victor's right, your mark is still straight ahead like he's making himself nice and convenient for you.

"Speak for yourself, Mr. Scrapey Claws. What if I'm into that?"

There's another prolonged silence on the other end, like he's fighting himself not to say what he wants to say, and you finally sigh and take pity on him.

"Okay, this is the only time we're going to mention this. It was a one time thing, it was completely consentual, and I'll wash the damn hoodie when I get home so you don't have to think about it ever again. I have to go, Mom. Tell William I said hi."

Your mark disappears into a restaurant door and you end the call, angling your feet like that building was your intended destination. It's all historical brick and exposed beams inside, and you catch the back of your mark weaving through tables to get a corner spot with the best visibility. Your excitement ramps up because surely this is where they're going to meet. All you have to do is settle in and not draw any attention.

You've never asked for a specific table in your life, but you do so now, following Victor's directions and slipping the hostess a folded twenty. Soon you're perfectly catty corner to the mark, able to catch his every movement out of the corner of your eye without being in his direct line of sight. The waiter is taking forever to get to you, so you just sit there awkwardly for a few minutes before you realize you should be doing something more natural.

Hoping to calm your nerves, you type out a text to your actual mother:

Hi mom, new phone! How's work going? Tell dad I say hi!

And of course she doesn't text back because she's your mother and she checks her phone about twice a day.

You order a coffee and the check right away, but the way the waiter gives you a little wink right before he walks away sparks an idea in your head. You quickly type to Victor,

At a restaurant, mark is alone. What if the waiter is the person he's meeting?

VC: Send pic of waiter

You do, pretending you're getting an aesthetic story for Instagram and managing to get three quarters of his face while he's working another table. Your photo only says delivered for a few seconds before you get the reply.

VC: Not him

How do you know? I thought you've never seen the guy.

VC: Just know

You roll your eyes, but that does give you some measure of comfort, and you once the check is paid you're able to casually drink your coffee and wait for the next thing. No one has approached your mark, and he doesn't seem to be watching the door of the restaurant for anyone in particular.

VC: When he leaves turn left and come to bookstore for clothes and dog.

But I already did a location with William.

VC: No one remembers black dogs

You're about to reply because the mark is still halfway through his sandwich when he suddenly gets up and walks straight out of the restaurant, so suddenly that you wonder if he's skipping out on the check. You wait until his back has just disappeared outside and then you're moving again, swerving around tables and annoyingly slow people clogging the walkway, and finally you're outside.

There's a sundress laid out in the seat when you reach the car, and it's like the entire phone conversation from before was just for the sake of your nerves, because Victor doesn't say anything to you. Your mind's eye is totally focused on your mark and how you want to appear this time, and you don't even register the lack of his gaze on your body while you change right next to him. Don't notice the way he's got his face casually pointed towards the window, even though the mark is walking in the totally opposite direction.

You're probably making mistakes but he doesn't comment on them, just silently packs your discarded clothes into the bag once you're dressed, and as you step out to the curb you decide this is as good a time as any to get in character. You turn back with a dramatic swish of your hair, and when Victors eyes flick up you flash him your best Manic Pixie Dream Girl grin, adding in every bit of actual excitement you feel at being here and doing this job, and you just fucking blast it, white teeth and sparkling eyes, right at his face.

You don't see the dazed look on his face because you're already skipping to the side door and grabbing hold of William's leash, and before Victor even has time to drive away you're flouncing down the sidewalk, letting your fingers splay out like they're sampling the wind rushing by at every forward bounce.

People are looking at you but it's alright, Sundress Girl is meant to be looked at. She's a self propelled force of unbridled sunshine and autism. William is completely in character beside you, smiling a big pitbull grin with his tongue flopping out and looking at you like this is the best day of his life. You look down at him and just start laughing for no reason, because you feel it too. This isn't merely fun. The mountainous ups and downs have taken their toll, and your body is accepting the current up like it's pure amphetamine, absolutely pouring happy chemicals into your blood. You are Sundress Girl, readily risking her life for a little adventure and a story to tell some day in the nursing home. You're fucking living.

And it's like you've just manifested everything perfectly into existence because your mark's body language shifts. He's no longer paranoid and jittery, he's making purposeful strides towards a particular street corner, and you know deep down what's about to happen. You are one organism with him, with a shared brain, and it's like you remote control him to step towards the booth and buy a ticket to the conservatory.

Sundress Girl makes sure her dog has a chance to pee before buying her own ticket, and she's following dreamily along, head in the clouds and eyes on all the beautiful plants. The fact that she passes the mark, who is speaking in hushed tones with another man, doesn't even register because she is the main character of her own story. It's totally natural for her to bend down and give William a pretty little kiss, and then take her phone out and snap a happy sunshine selfie for the 'gram. Beautiful overhead sunlight streams down behind her, and the faces of two men are coincidentally captured there in the corner of the photo.

You pull it up immediately in your photos and zoom in, making sure it's clear, and miraculously it's absolutely perfect.

Your fingers are shaking when you send it to VC with the word, "conservatory," and mere seconds later you get a reply.

VC: Turn left, one block, Starbucks on the right

It's a struggle then to keep Sundress Girl in place, because you finally feel dangerous. You've got the right kind of setup and proximity to Victor, and you've somehow carved out a way to be your own kind of predator. It feels amazing.

William has come around the wrong way behind you so you channel Sundress Girl one more time to lift your arm and do a little twirl until he's straightened out, and then you look around all confused and begin walking towards the exit with the most airhead look you can muster. Both men turn to glance at your face and you make brief eye contact. Though your blood is suddenly pounding in your ears you just float on by, propelled by a magical breeze and a radical sense of self importance.

And then you're out of the conservatory, and the dazed look is gone. Sundress Girl died the second your foot crossed the threshold. William has twin satellites all perked up and he's right there with you, striding down the sidewalk with one purpose in mind: get to Victor. His car is right up ahead, and your spirits soar. You did it. In a few more yards you'll get to grin at him again and see the proud look on his face at what you accomplished.

The door opens before you even get close, and Victor's walking towards you quickly, face grim. You catch the keys that are suddenly lobbed in your direction and he passes by with a, "Go back to the hotel, don't wait for me," and then he's gone.

Just… gone. Not even a goodbye or a promise to see you soon. You stop and stare down at the keys in your hand, and the dopamine scatters away into nothing. Numbly you load up William and set the seat and the mirrors for someone much smaller, and you slowly drive away, like you expect any time Victor will come running back and everything will be better.

It's like a ruined orgasm in the way your body feels finished but unsatisfied. You wait in your room for the rest of the afternoon, ordering room service more because you're bored than hungry, and watching TV that you don't particularly enjoy. Still no communication from Victor. You text him, asking how things are going, and there's no reply. After dinner you actually call him, but he doesn't pick up and his voicemail is turned off, so you just send another text:

Hey, it's me! No emergency, no need to call me back, just maybe text me when you're safe and finished or something. We're fine.

Wow, so cool and unaffected. You mash your head back into the pillow and stare at the ceiling, fingernails tapping the back of your phone case. Hours later you're still waiting and worrying. What if something has gone wrong? What if Victor is the one lying there bleeding out, with only a weak and stupid assistant waiting at the hotel, completely incapable of assisting in any way? You push those thoughts back down and try to remind yourself how big and mean and sharp he is. Maybe he should have roughed you up a little bit more than he did, just so you'd have that security that he's as dangerous as you hope.

It's nearly ten o'clock and there's still no word. Over and over you typ into your phone, like there will be messages there that have somehow never showed up on the lock screen. Even your mom hasn't texted you back, and it gives you this nagging worry that your phone just isn't connected to the network and you're missing vital pieces of information from Victor. But eventually you fall asleep, all the lights still on, and it's like your body knows not to get too comfortable because you wake up again a little past midnight.

Still no messages. You start to roll over and snuggle back into the blankets, but a sudden worry springs forth that you never thought of before. What if Victor is already back? In his room, right now, snoring the night away while you lay here and suffer. Could he be the kind of person who would do that? Just go to sleep without contacting you?

Yes, yes he would. You spring out of bed and snatch both key cards, grateful that he made sure you both had a card to each room. William is immediately up and getting excited because he thinks he's finally going to see Big Guy again, and he follows you into the hall, and you open Victor's door and—

Nothing. Totally empty. William makes a beeline for the bed but you just stand there and let the door close behind you. There's Victor's suitcase, all zipped up and tucked neatly into the corner. He hasn't abandoned you, which is a slight relief, but he's still gone, and you are still not convinced he'll wake you up when he gets back.

So you do the obvious thing. You tuck yourself into Victor's bed and curl up with William and fall asleep with your phone in your hand. It will probably send the wrong message, but you're banking on him being too exhausted to care.

Sometime much later, early in the morning when you're sleeping your deepest, you're woken by the sensation of being lifted into someone's arms. The room is dimmer than it was when you fell asleep and you can't see much, but you smell Victor and your body knows not to be afraid.

"Did you get him?" you mumble while he starts to walk with you in his arms. You're struggling to keep your eyes open, especially when things get brighter in the hall.

A chirping beep and a click, then, "Yeah, I got him. You did so good today, baby."

You're still half asleep and barely aware of any details besides the fact that everything is alright, but it still forms a little bubble of happiness in your chest to hear him say it like that. You try to commit it to memory, begging yourself not to forget the exact way his voice softened at the last part, but you're being laid down somewhere incredibly comfortable and almost immediately you fall back to sleep.

When you wake up the next morning, you're in your own bed with William, and your phone is thoughtfully plugged in beside you.