Sequel: Zero ›
rewind
five.
The violet eyed esper appeared out of nowhere.
Literally.
"Jesus Christ," Ales swore harshly, flinching away from the shorter woman with a scowl. "I told you not to do that."
An amused smile played on the curve of her lips as she fell into step beside him, matching his long, steady strides with a light footed trot. She leaned forward, trying to catch a glimpse of the taller man's face, which never seemed to turn her way.
"You're doing it again," she pointed out.
"What?" Ales growled, threatening her with a glare.
"That thing where you're in a hurry and not telling me why," she clarified. "You called me to meet, but never mentioned the reason. How am I supposed to prepare accordingly? What if I need a gun or-"
"You don't need a gun," Ales rolled his eyes, then paused almost thoughtfully. "If you did, I could easily- That's not the point. You don't need a gun."
"But you'd give one to me if I needed one."
When Ales looked at her, she was absolutely beaming at the idea of wielding a firearm. He just glared at her and cocked his head to the side as he took a sharp turn into an alley, littered with old garbage from the abandoned buildings it cut through. She followed him around the stacked, molding boxes and plump black trash bags until they reached an impassable chain link fence. At this point, she stared, her brows vanishing behind her fringe as she waited to hear what this was all about.
Ales glanced around once, then spoke in a low voice.
"Marco is in love."
She stared at him for a long span of seconds, waiting for more that never came.
"…That's it?" She asked, dipping her head slightly.
Ales scowled when he got the feeling that he was about to be mocked.
"Yes, I need to know who it is."
"Ales, seriously?" She groaned. "He's in love, not trouble. Are you sure you're not just jealous?"
He was staring at her with all the fury he could muster, practically burning a hole through her head. "It's someone he shouldn't be involved with."
"If it's that important to you, then I guess I can help you out," she said slowly. "I'm guessing we're headed to dinner then."
Ales nodded his head sharply, then they were off again. It wasn't uncommon for the family to have gatherings at the family restaurant. She was becoming more of a frequent guest these days and no one seemed to mind the advantages that the young woman seemingly turned in their favor. All it took was a casual handshake before she was rendezvousing with Ales in a distant corner of the room.
"Blonde hair, blue eyes, long legs, gorgeous," she rattled off. "Deadly. Sound familiar?"
"Are you sure?" He swore when she nodded her head. "Jesus, Marco."
"What's wrong? She didn't seem like a bad person," she asked. "Who is she?"
"Kingsley Meade's hell bird," Ales muttered, downing the rest of wine. "Sparrow Nine."
"Don't make that face, Ales," she whispered. "You'll get wrinkles."
Literally.
"Jesus Christ," Ales swore harshly, flinching away from the shorter woman with a scowl. "I told you not to do that."
An amused smile played on the curve of her lips as she fell into step beside him, matching his long, steady strides with a light footed trot. She leaned forward, trying to catch a glimpse of the taller man's face, which never seemed to turn her way.
"You're doing it again," she pointed out.
"What?" Ales growled, threatening her with a glare.
"That thing where you're in a hurry and not telling me why," she clarified. "You called me to meet, but never mentioned the reason. How am I supposed to prepare accordingly? What if I need a gun or-"
"You don't need a gun," Ales rolled his eyes, then paused almost thoughtfully. "If you did, I could easily- That's not the point. You don't need a gun."
"But you'd give one to me if I needed one."
When Ales looked at her, she was absolutely beaming at the idea of wielding a firearm. He just glared at her and cocked his head to the side as he took a sharp turn into an alley, littered with old garbage from the abandoned buildings it cut through. She followed him around the stacked, molding boxes and plump black trash bags until they reached an impassable chain link fence. At this point, she stared, her brows vanishing behind her fringe as she waited to hear what this was all about.
Ales glanced around once, then spoke in a low voice.
"Marco is in love."
She stared at him for a long span of seconds, waiting for more that never came.
"…That's it?" She asked, dipping her head slightly.
Ales scowled when he got the feeling that he was about to be mocked.
"Yes, I need to know who it is."
"Ales, seriously?" She groaned. "He's in love, not trouble. Are you sure you're not just jealous?"
He was staring at her with all the fury he could muster, practically burning a hole through her head. "It's someone he shouldn't be involved with."
"If it's that important to you, then I guess I can help you out," she said slowly. "I'm guessing we're headed to dinner then."
Ales nodded his head sharply, then they were off again. It wasn't uncommon for the family to have gatherings at the family restaurant. She was becoming more of a frequent guest these days and no one seemed to mind the advantages that the young woman seemingly turned in their favor. All it took was a casual handshake before she was rendezvousing with Ales in a distant corner of the room.
"Blonde hair, blue eyes, long legs, gorgeous," she rattled off. "Deadly. Sound familiar?"
"Are you sure?" He swore when she nodded her head. "Jesus, Marco."
"What's wrong? She didn't seem like a bad person," she asked. "Who is she?"
"Kingsley Meade's hell bird," Ales muttered, downing the rest of wine. "Sparrow Nine."
"Don't make that face, Ales," she whispered. "You'll get wrinkles."