Lee (dreaminglee) wrote in wi_haven, @ 2009-04-09 17:27:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | lee |
The end to an unconventional relationship.
"I can't keep doing this," it was one of those random statements Sarena would make while with him. One of the hundreds she had made over the course of what could be loosely termed their relationship. It was a relationship in that they chose to be around one another. It was not a relationship in that they slept with other people either for work or for personal reasons when the mood struck. However, if someone asked and he cared to answer, one could call her his girlfriend. The moniker didn't mean anything to him any more than it meant something to her. She was a strange girl, his girl.
He looked up from his work to see what she was doing. She was cleaning a gun. They had a number of those between the two of them. Guns were occasionally useful. They had other abilities which could easily render guns unnecessary, but there was something almost comforting about handling things in the old fashioned way of simply putting a bullet in someone's head.
"Can't keep doing what?," she had left the whole thing open to interpretation and he didn't particularly like vague. Thomas Saturday was a man of Swiss precision, the kind who preferred to know the exact where, when, how, and who of every situation. Why, despite the fact that some would consider it important, was something he tended to avoid as a rule. Why had a way of making things complicated. He preferred things simple. His bird however was a very much 'why' oriented person. If she could figure out the 'why, Sarena could figure out the rest because the why was what drove a person to do things. Currently, he was actually wondering why she was in a funk of the first order to be cryptically muttering shit across the room at him. It wasn't like her.
Click. Click. Slide. Snap. Click. Cock. The motions to put the assembly back together were automatic for her. However, one was not supposed to cock the hammer after putting a gun back together. Especially not when the person doing so did not believe in the use of the safety. Even if he hadn't been watching, he would have known that sound.
"Working for him." There was only one him she spoke of in that tone. The man in charge, the man who paid them well, the man who was the 'why' behind what they did. Because he said so and he paid well. That was their 'why'. "Thomas, I can't do it anymore."
Today was very unlike her. And unlike him, this was starting a minor species of panic. Why? Because she was part of his 'who'. Take her out of the equation and things had to fall into a new order. He did not like that. It disrupted him, things taking on new patterns abruptly. Not because he couldn't deal but because it was damned disruptive. He watched as she put the gun under her chin. Saw the slight way her skin bulged around the metal. The blue bracelet on his wrist had moved to the vicinity of her elbow.
"What the hell are you doing?" He started out of his seat toward her as she shut her eyes. Then she brought the gun down and shot him in the chest. The bullet hit him dead on before he could react and she started to bleed. Blood gushing from a chest wound he should have borne, but by virtue of his mutation, she did. She was dead before he made it all the way across the room. "Damn you," he muttered the body which he was now going to have to a way to dispose of. He closed her eyes as he considered what he could wrap her in to get her down the stairs. Hands familiarly pushed her hair away from her face. A few errant strands curled around his fingers when he pulled away. Absently, he stuck them in his pocket, forming an idea. He probably wouldn't do it, but if he decided to, he could.
If he was going to put her in a garbage bag, he needed to do it before she stiffened. Corpses in rigor were harder to transport.