Chapter Text
‘Something about this doesn’t feel right,’ Lemon grumbled.
Tangerine sighed, rolling his eyes with impatience. ‘I know, Lemon.’
‘So why are we still taking this gig? Things are so much easier when we’re just pulling a trigger-‘
‘Because he’s already paid us half, Lemon!’ Tangerine interrupted, ‘What about our fucking reputation then? We’re professionals, Lemon. Reputation is everything in our line of work and I intend to keep ours intact.’
The repetition of his name annoyed Lemon to no end. It sounded like Tangerine was scolding a child. He had barely muttered a fine in response when Tangerine raised a ring-clad finger in the direction of someone crossing the street. The rental car’s windows had finally unfogged enough for them to see the details on the other side of the glass. Lemon glanced at the picture of their target on his phone then back at you as you sidestepped a particularly mucky puddle.
‘Is that definitely the target?’ Tangerine asked, excited at the prospect of not having to wait around any longer.
But Lemon was already getting out of the car before answering the question. He hadn’t even bothered to take the keys out of the ignition so Tangerine rolled his eyes and reached over to do it himself. The last thing they needed was their car getting stolen on a job.
You reached the cafe’s hulking glass entrance. It looked tall enough for a giant to fit through. No wonder the staff kept the door open all the time, it must have been to ward off cobwebs in impossible-to-reach corners of the doorway.
The cafe was heavily gentrified with Einstein light bulbs dangling against a dark wood backdrop and a glaringly overpriced menu pasted along the walls. But the staff were nice every time you’d been in.
It was the only place you’d allowed yourself to frequent since they put a price on your head.
Tangerine noted the way you looked from side to side a couple of times.
Left then right. You were scanning the passing crowd. Left then right.
People on the run tended to have a sixth sense for when they were being watched and he was absolutely not in the mood to chase someone today. Not in this humidity, not ever. So he pulled out his lighter and stood to the side of the car, trying to look like he was casually smoking a cigarette and getting some air after a drive as anyone would in this weather.
He and Lemon stuck out like a sore thumb, of course. But thankfully you didn’t even glance in their direction.
‘Don’t engage until I say so. Can’t have you scaring them off with you jabbering.’ He blew a puff of smoke out the corner of his mouth.
‘I do not jabber! I’m a very concise talker.’
If the past few days were anything to go by, that was definitely not true. If Tangerine had to so much as hear another whisper of one of Lemon’s cartoon trains in conversation then his brain would start leaking from his ears.
The moment he saw you sit down through the cafe’s window he flicked his cigarette onto the ground and stubbed it out with his shoe. There was no time to waste.
Lemon frowned. ‘Pick that up.’
‘No.’
‘The planet is dying and you’re littering the ground with your rubbish!’ He maintained, ‘If anything it’s just a waste of a cig!’
Tangerine didn't offer a reply.
The cafe was a little quieter than when you’d last been in. Customers were sparse and the staff dawdled and chatted between themselves. One of them offered you a warm smile of recognition. Her eyes lit up and her pink-painted lips stretched into a wide smile as she greeted you. The music in the cafe wasn't too loud today, just loud enough to make its presence known.
Taking a seat at the same place you always did, you looked out the window to the street and passersby. The street was packed full of cars parked on either side jutting out like black piano keys but the road itself was quiet. Every half a minute or so a car drove past and the pleasant sound of rainwater splashing against the wheels filled your ears.
The few people that also sat in the cafe didn't seem worth any worries you might have. There was a man with a heavily receded hairline and thick-lensed glasses on the end of his nose reading a newspaper as he sipped his drink. Two women sat talking quietly amongst themselves at the other end, excitedly showing each other photos of their pets as they shared a blueberry muffin.
You should have been analysing these people, seeing if they were potential threats to you. Anyone could have been right now, even the baristas. But your soul had grown heavy and tired. All this running and hiding and looking over your shoulder was exhausting. You’d barely slept, barely ate. So just for a moment, you decided to let yourself breathe. You closed your eyes and listened to the soft murmur of the song in the background, of the water occasionally splashing on the road.
The sound of a man clearing his throat interrupted your thoughts.
‘Mind if we join you?’
Your eyes snapped open and you immediately met the gaze of two men standing at your table. The taller of the two with white-tipped and tightly coiled hair smiled at you broadly, with almost perfectly white teeth. The man at his side looked between you and the customer reading the newspaper a few tables down like he was trying to assess something about him. He had his hair slicked back so faultlessly that you were surprised to see the ends fighting to snap back into their natural curl when he turned his head.
You tried not to panic. At the very least you tried not to let the two men know you were panicking, that you knew they were probably the harbingers of your death. The shorter of the two held out his hand the moment you took a particularly sharp breath as if to reassure you.
‘Don’t worry. We’re not here to hurt you.’ He spoke quietly.
You found that incredibly hard to believe.
They outwardly greeted you like old friends, false familiarity etched across their faces. To anyone else, they must've looked normal because no one even looked at them strangely. But to you, they dressed like assassins. Or maybe people who worked in especially high-end finance. These two men looked dangerous. Not in the way that they would hurt you or mean anyone any harm on the day-to-day. They might have even been good people if you could ignore the part about being contract killers. But even so, they looked like they’d do anything for the right price and that made them dangerous to you with the price on your head. Two weeks ago you wouldn’t have had a clue about any of that but oh, how quickly sensibilities change.
‘Mind if we sit down?’ The taller man asked again.
They each took a seat opposite you without you answering, too frozen to even nod or shake your head. Some small part of you thought it was oddly polite that they at least waited a moment before taking a seat regardless.
‘Excuse me?’ the taller man asked the barista as she set your drink down in front of you, ‘Could I get a latte, please? With three sugars and a pump of caramel if you don’t mind.’ He smiled broadly at her, politely even.
‘Of course!’ she scribbled something very hastily in her notebook with a pen whose end was chewed into oblivion, ‘Can I get you anything?’ she asked the other man.
‘No, thank you.’ he replied, ‘But can you put his latte in a to-go cup, please? We won't be staying long.’
You didn’t get to soak in their unusual politeness for trained killers, you were too busy looking for a way out of this. As tired of running as you were, you weren’t ready to die just yet.
As the barista walked off you eyed the door and Tangerine noticed. ‘Listen, we know you’re on the run from some very bad people and-‘
‘What?’ You interrupted him, ‘You’re going to try and convince me that you’re not one of those very bad people?’
He was taken aback by your attitude if only for a moment. But his painfully blue eyes almost burned you as he watched you sip your drink.
‘Nah. But we were hired to protect you.’ Lemon answered for him.
You made a face that Tangerine thought was oddly cute. It was the kind of face you might pull if someone just told you the sky was actually green instead of blue. Despite your confusion at Lemon's statement you didn’t seem too disturbed by his admission that they were in fact very bad people. You were right of course but it struck a nerve within Tangerine that he didn’t like. Lemon couldn’t have cared less.
‘By who?’ You questioned, eyes narrowed.
‘No idea. He never gave a name, never saw his face. But he hired us to get you out here and bring you somewhere he thinks you’ll be safe.’
‘Why should I believe you?’
‘Cause if we wanted you dead, we’d have killed you like fifteen minutes ago.’ The taller one replied.
You liked him, you decided. He was straight to the point but in an endearing, aloof way. Unlike his partner with the crease between his brows and a voice like he contemplated every word he spoke. He was calm but too calm to the point where you knew that was just a front.
‘What happens if I try to run?’ You asked, receiving a groan from them almost in unison.
The shorter man cleared his throat and adjusted his cufflinks before leaning forward so he could speak to you softly. He noted how the baristas eyed your table with suspicion. They seemed fond of you, he thought, and he didn't want to cause a scene.
‘Well, we certainly won’t try to stop you. But the way I see it? You can leave the city with Lemon and me or you’ll probably end up leaving in a body bag. Because if we’ve found you? It won’t be long until the people who actually want to hurt you will too.’
You sat for a moment, weighing up your options. Neither were ideal. You could run and go back to the way things had been for the past few weeks - All this running and hiding. Or you could go with these two complete strangers who promised to protect you and risk what little safety you had built for yourself. But what good is safety if it’s fleeting? Their employer, whoever he was, might be able to offer a more permanent solution to your problem even if he has an ulterior motive too.
As you were mulling things over, a sudden realisation dawned on you. ‘Wait, I’m sorry. Your name is Lemon?’
‘Yep! I’m Lemon, that’s Tangerine. They’re our operational names.’ He held out a hand for to you shake as the barista brought him his latte, ‘Nice to meet you!’
Well, there goes their cover for being your old friends.
‘We don't have time for this,’ Tangerine griped. ‘Are you coming with us or not?’
You liked making this man irritated, you decided. It was a good look on him. You liked the way he thumbed one of the thick golden rings on his fingers and his face set into a hard line. Lemon seemed taken aback by Tangerine’s impoliteness but didn’t comment on it.
‘Half the city’s underground wants you dead,' He continued, 'Every gang in competition with Hollow Eye that’s worth their weight in coke is probably tearing up the floorboards of everything even remotely resembling a safe house looking for you right now. So if you’re coming then we need to go.’
So against your better judgment, you took their word for it.