Monsters in Suits ( John Wick )

Part 3: Poetic

Between the twisted and cold, dark blue of the night and the beautiful, warm pastel of sunrise, is a grey. This grey has some indescribable feeling, that can be explained in no other way except possibility. It holds the possibilities for the day. That grey, is a grey John Wick is very familiar with.

It was around six o'clock in the morning when he rolls over on the couch, only to be met with pain shooting through various parts of his body. He lets out a groan as he slowly sits up and begins to take in his surroundings.

Being an assassin means you should always be aware of everything, so came as quite the shock for the infamous assassin to find himself in a Continental room. A room he didn't open, especially when he distinctly remembers passing out in the middle the street directly in front of the Continental.

All of that would've been fine, because while he was feared, he did have friends. So it could've been one of them, but it wasn't and he knew it. How did he figure that out? There was a girl on the armchair across from him.

A girl he did not know.

He sat up as fast as he could, which was still rather fast since he figured she would kill him faster than any other wound he already has. He grabs the pillow he was laying on, and slowly inches towards her chair. 

Quieter than the light breeze outside, he approaches the sleeping girl. As he got closer, he expected for her to snap awake and try to kill him. Step by step, he approached her, yet there wasn't even the slightest twitch of her finger.

The closer John got, he began to notice everything about her. She had her head lolled to the side, resting on the chair, with her blonde hair messily falling out of the, once nice, hair style. She sat criss-cross on the chair, with a book open in her lap. He thought she looked rather harmless, but he still didn't trust her. It did occur to him, however, that the book she was holding looked rather familiar.

He slowly put his pillow back down as he began walking to the bathroom. He still didn't fully trust her so he walked backwards, but he didn't remember the coffee table behind him. He ran into it with a loud bang and a soft 'ouch.' He looked over to the girl, waiting to see any reaction, but she was still asleep. So he quickly walked to the bathroom, cursing slightly at the pain. 

Gwen, however, snapped awake a few moments after he turned around. The first groan from John had slightly woke her, but it was early on a Saturday morning, so she went back to sleep. The bang of him hitting the coffee table and his string of crude profanities that followed him to the bathroom is what woke her up. 

In her sleepy haze she tried to understand where she was, and who that was in the bathroom. Once the whole 'I brought him here and he's still hurt' thing came back to her, she snapped awake and ran after him. 

"Hey! Uh.. Mr. Wick!" She calls, stumbling to get out of the chair. "Wait! Mr. Wick! You're hurt! Get back here!" She finally got to the bathroom, not bothering to take a second to consider what she was doing. 

"Hey mister! You're hurt and I have your pills-" She draws out as she looks at him. He was looking at his wounds in the mirror... the wounds he has on his chest. 

"I- oh my... um I, haha uh I'm Gwen aaand I'm also gonna be out here once you're done!" She awkwardly get out. 

"Ah! Um, wait!" He calls out to her as she quickly runs back to the living room. He grabs his dirty button up from the counter and quickly throws it on as he follows after her. "So, uh you're the one who brought me here?" He looks at her for a second before fully buttoning his shirt back up. 

She was in the living room gathering her things and tidying what little she had affected while there. "Uh yeah. I'm sorry for following you, but you were hurt and I had to make sure you would get help. Besides," She throws some trash away, "I knew there was no hospital at that stop."

He almost smiles. It's a little odd for him to experience such true and unadulterated kindness, but it felt... kinda nice. Though, he stopped before the smile could reach the surface, because he is the baba yaga. He owns the darkness. He shouldn't let this random girl change that. There was no need for her to help him. 

"That was a stupid decision." He tells her, as he lowers himself back onto the couch.

She scoffs before turning her head to him. "A stupid decision, huh?" She roughly shoves the trash into the bin before storming over to him. "Well that stupid decision saved your life buddy!" 

He raises his hands, "I thank you for that, but there are hidden forces at work everywhere, it might've been better for both of us if you had just left me alone like I asked." 

Gwen didn't know what he meant, and didn't like how solemnly ominous he sounded, so she changed the subject. "These," She grabs the pill bottles, "are your pills. I called the in house doctor, that all fancy hotels have apparently. He said you should take one of these pills with the blue label once after breakfast and once before bed. Then this red one, he said to take two before any large movements and that 'you'd know what he meant.'" She air quotes before she sets the bottles on the table. 

John reaches out for the bottles but Gwen slaps his hand away. Out of reflex he grabs her arm with a steel grip, and pulls her closer to him. 

"Hey!" She yelps, slapping his hand, trying to pull away.  

"Sorry, it's.. reflex." He responds, releasing his grip. 

"Why do you need that as a reflex?" She asks incredulously, rubbing her sore arm. He remains silent. 

"Okay, well I'm gonna grab you something to eat before you take the pill, you know, like the doctor said. Do they have like a breakfast bar downstairs?" She asks, grabbing her purse. 

"Kind of, but I'll go down. You stay here." He tells her, attempting to get up. 

She pushes him down. "Nuh-uh! You're hurt so you're not going anywhere!" She pushes him back down and he grunts. "You don't speak a lot do ya?" 

"I don't have the proper words to convey what I think." He tells her. 

It was like a line from one of the books she's read. He had the exact voice to match the intensity of his words. He is the embodiment of an enemies to lovers character from her books. His voice the same voice she imagined all the hot enemy characters to have. It was so fitting, she nearly shivered at the sound. 

"Okay Mr. Poet, I'm gonna head downstairs for our breakfast." She moves to the pen and paper and begins writing. "Here's my number if anything happens while I'm gon-" He cuts her off. 

"I don't have a phone," He falters, "Or at least I don't bring it with me to work." 

"You don't... carry a personal phone?" He shakes his head, "That's a little strange." She says. 

"... Strict boss." He responds. 

"Okayy then, if you need me just use the room phone." She begins to walk to the door but stops before she exits, turning around to him again. "Besides, how much bad could happen while I'm out?" 

----------------------------------------

Word count: 1301