“Absolutely not, Shawn. Do not go near that man,” Juliet warns.
Shawn looks at her like she’s just taken away all the pineapple in California. “But Jules, he looks so cool! With the motorcycle, and the jumping through that pane of glass - look! Look at that ruggedly handsome face! He doesn’t even have a scratch on him!”
It’s true; he does have that look about him: the square jaw, the icy blue eyes, the cropped hair (which apparently allows him to shake off shards of glass with ease).
“Plus, he just said, ‘Come with me if you want to live,’ and you know what? No one who has ever gone with the speaker of that line in a movie and/or TV show has ever died.” Shawn wriggles like an eager puppy. “And his name is Chance. How Being There is that?!”
“Trust me, ma’am, I know what I’m doing,” the man who calls himself Chance says.
“Oh, buddy, that was exactly the wrong thing to say,” Shawn mutters, flicking a glance at Juliet out of the corner of his eye.
Juliet feels her jaw tighten up. “Yeah, I know what I’m doing, too.” She flips open the corner of her jacket to display the police badge clipped at her waist. “And you have a lot of explaining to do. Like who the hell you are, and how you discovered Mr. Spencer’s location.”
Chance holds his hands up placatingly. “Listen, lady, I was just trying to--”
“Lady?!” Juliet exclaims. It’s possible that she’s been Carlton’s partner for too long; she is sorely tempted to pull her gun. “First ‘ma’am’ and now ‘lady’?! Mister, I am at least 15 years younger than--”
“--10 years younger than you are!” Juliet finishes. “And this isn’t Fried Green Tomatoes!”
“Oooh, good one!” Shawn says, raising his hand for a fist bump. Juliet ignores it.
“So you are going to tell me how you found the location of this safe house,” Juliet continues, “and then I am going to take you down to the station and book you for breaking and entering, and… whatever else comes up.”
“Yeah, about that,” Chance says, scratching his head. “I’m not the one who discovered the location of the safe house. I just got here first.”
There’s a crash from the front of the building. Juliet looks at Chance, who shrugs. She pulls her gun, but points it toward the doorway, not at Chance.
“Shawn. Out the back,” Juliet says.
“Bad idea,” Chance says. Juliet looks at him again. He has his fingers laced together behind his neck, and he is looking casually at the ceiling.
Shawn turns toward Juliet. “They’ll probably have it covered.”
There’s a muffled thump from the roof.
“Fine, what do you suggest?” Juliet asks, looking at Chance.
He hooks a thumb toward the now-empty window pane. “It won’t exactly get us to Narnia, but it’s a pretty handy shortcut.”
Juliet nods, her gun still trained toward the entrance to the room. “Follow him, Shawn. I’ll be right behind you.”
“Finally,” Chance sighs, moving toward the window.
“Shawn,” Juliet says.
“Yeah?” Shawn answers.
“You get on the back of that motorcycle, and I swear to god, I’m calling your father,” Juliet threatens.
Shawn gulps. “Understood.”