Snippet Saturday!
Have a bit of hitman!Ben:
A sultry blonde in a fire-engine red dress cut down to there and slit up to here sidled up and sat on the stool beside him. "Get me a Manhattan, Rob? Hey, cutie, why so down?" she asked.
Ben lifted his head slowly and looked her straight in the face. "Dead child." His expression, he was sure, would have put a champion poker player to shame. "She was seven."
She had the grace to flinch. "Oh. I'm sorry."
"Not my kid. Still, hard." He fisted his hand in his hair and hunched his shoulders, staring at the surface of the bar again. So much blood. He squeezed his eyes shut, and the image went away. For now.
"A case?" He gave her a sideways look without moving his head, and she shrugged. "I heard you work for a private detective. And that you were good at...problem-solving."
He barked out a sound that only a psycho would have mistaken for a laugh. "Not tonight, I wasn't." Too late, too late, too late, ran the litany in his mind. If he'd just figured it all out five minutes faster, maybe the guy wouldn't have gotten away. Maybe the little girl would still be alive.
He drained his glass and set it down harder than he needed to. "What d'you want, lady? Very busy doing nothing right now. Would like to get back to it." Longer fragments. Still, fragments. "Another, Rob."
Rob's mouth tightened. "Last one, Ben. And then I'm calling you a cab."
The state he was in, that was probably a good idea, and not because of the alcohol. But he didn't like the idea of being cut off and bared a tooth that was longer and pointier than normal. Rob wasn't fazed--he'd seen it before. He set the glass in front of Ben, who glared at nothing in particular while he sipped it. Might as well take his time. He wasn't ready to go home to an empty house; Janni would be working at her catering job for a couple more hours yet.
"I want you to kill someone for me." He'd forgotten about the blonde, and he twitched violently.
A sultry blonde in a fire-engine red dress cut down to there and slit up to here sidled up and sat on the stool beside him. "Get me a Manhattan, Rob? Hey, cutie, why so down?" she asked.
Ben lifted his head slowly and looked her straight in the face. "Dead child." His expression, he was sure, would have put a champion poker player to shame. "She was seven."
She had the grace to flinch. "Oh. I'm sorry."
"Not my kid. Still, hard." He fisted his hand in his hair and hunched his shoulders, staring at the surface of the bar again. So much blood. He squeezed his eyes shut, and the image went away. For now.
"A case?" He gave her a sideways look without moving his head, and she shrugged. "I heard you work for a private detective. And that you were good at...problem-solving."
He barked out a sound that only a psycho would have mistaken for a laugh. "Not tonight, I wasn't." Too late, too late, too late, ran the litany in his mind. If he'd just figured it all out five minutes faster, maybe the guy wouldn't have gotten away. Maybe the little girl would still be alive.
He drained his glass and set it down harder than he needed to. "What d'you want, lady? Very busy doing nothing right now. Would like to get back to it." Longer fragments. Still, fragments. "Another, Rob."
Rob's mouth tightened. "Last one, Ben. And then I'm calling you a cab."
The state he was in, that was probably a good idea, and not because of the alcohol. But he didn't like the idea of being cut off and bared a tooth that was longer and pointier than normal. Rob wasn't fazed--he'd seen it before. He set the glass in front of Ben, who glared at nothing in particular while he sipped it. Might as well take his time. He wasn't ready to go home to an empty house; Janni would be working at her catering job for a couple more hours yet.
"I want you to kill someone for me." He'd forgotten about the blonde, and he twitched violently.