Re: [Capital: Misha & The Revenant]
The Revenant couldn't see the Watcher, but even so, he did turn his head when its presence entered the room. He felt a heaviness in the room, like a twitch in the stagnant air. It smelled like blood and wood polish, and, faintly, spaghetti carbonara. There were dirty dishes in the sink. There was no heaviness over the dead, thick man at his feet.
He slid sideways, and sat back against a windowsill. It was unlocked, so he levered it open, cracking it out far enough to let cool spring air flow in and wash away the stench. He leaned down and took a long lungful of it, smearing a little blood on the windowsill. He smiled when Misha repeated after him. He said, face still close to the gap in the window, "Who countest the steps of the sun, seeking after that sweet golden clime where the traveler's journey is done."
He straightened again. "Misha," he said. Misha looked soft, but of course, he knew that wasn't the case. "You like to wear things that look so loose they might never touch the skin," he observed. "You aren't afraid of death." The sentences, in his own mind, built on each other. "Bodyguard," he said, toeing the man on the ground. His foot slipped from a loose fold of cloth, revealing a dirty, bare foot. "Smuggler," he said, pointing to the woman with a single finger, not so much as looking her way. He was looking, instead, at Misha. His shoulders tightened, his voice dropped, and he shuddered. He was remembering. "She smuggled weapons, first, then drugs, and then, much too deep, sometimes bodies went into the mix. There is a man in there. He's vacuum sealed." In the hot pink suitcases, stacked against the wall. "Like some people do, to get more clothes in their luggage? I didn't know about him before I came. Now, what to do?" He looked at the cases. "I'll leave them open. The police will be here soon. Someone will find his family. He was seventeen." Pale eyes slide past Misha. "Her husband pushed her to kill him. Wrong place, wrong time. He was her nephew. He opened the wrong door to the wrong garage. She was grateful her sister was already dead, years ago, cancer. She would never have to face her, at a family dinner, and know."