KINGSMAN

V

THE DARK SKY RUMBLED; THE AIR SMELLED LIGHTLY OF WET AND ON-COMING RAIN. 

When they had finally been released, Sylvi bolted from the room as normally as she could. Her phone rang again though when she checked it, expecting April, she was unpleasantly surprised. It was her mother. Lorraine Carson called few times during the school year: the beginning, exams, and the end. Sylvi let the phone ring and then called April.

"Excuse me, Carson, is it?"

Sylvi did not startle visibly, but her fingers twitched enough for her phone to slip before she discreetly caught it. She turned to face Edgewood's prized corpse: Samuel Webb. Behind him trailed the others, except for Sienna who had already disappeared. 

He was smiling at her though it was more like a smirk cut across his face, menacing and tricky, like he was taunting her by being cordial. She looked him up and down. "Yes, I am."

He held out his hand. "Samuel. Samuel Webb. A pleasure."

She knew she was meant to shake it, but didn't. "I know."

He laughed, again, not kindly though it was meant to be. "Well, if you have time, I'd like you to walk with me."

She looked to the others. "All of you?"

"No, just me. Archer and Roman already have plans, isn't that right?"

Archer nodded and smiled at her, all the nerves from earlier completely dissolved. "It's nice to meet you."

Sylvi made a noncommittal noise in the back of her throat. Roman simply said: "You already know who I am." She didn't know if he meant because he was a Kingsman, because of the party, or because Detective Chen had addressed them all by name.

She clutched her phone in her hand. "Sorry but I can't. I promised my roommate we'd finish packing today." 

"I insist. It'll only be a short while."

Sylvi's phone rang again, her mother calling for attention. "Fifteen minutes," she said.

They walked to a hole-in-the-wall café. Upon entry, she realized what kind of place it was. Small and seemingly local though filled with students in Edgewood uniforms. A plant. Owned by a larger company but placed to make it seem more underground than it actually was. Unpainted brick walls and hung over by the exposed wooden beams of the roof. It smelled like coffee beans and smoke. There were no lights, only large windows that took over an entire wall and lit everything with weak light. She hadn't known about it prior to entry but that was mostly due to her being kept in the dark about most social things and less to the café's own success.

She and Samuel sat in a booth at the very back of the room. She made sure to sit closest to the door though she wasn't sure what purpose would it serve. Samuel Webb wasn't the type to pull out a shank though the image slightly amused her.

He ordered a coffee, black. She didn't order anything. He raised an eyebrow at her and leaned back. "So, tell me about yourself."

Now it was her turn to raise a brow. She wished she had something to do with her hands other than lay them flat against the cool table and stare at her clipped fingernails. "What am I supposed to say?"

He smiled again. She hated it when he smiled even though she'd only ever seen it twice. A part of her wished he'd stop smiling and act like she expected him to, posh and privileged and so very much above her so that she could bite back. His civility made her skeptical. "Tell me about yourself. It's a simple request."

Sylvi felt a sharp flare rise in her and the innate need to be difficult. It was like having a conversation with her father. Roundabout and mundane, a disguise for something deeper, every glance a dig. She mirrored his position and sat back, raising her palms and slapping them back on the table. "You start."

His eyes creased, an admission to his rising frustration. She held back a smirk and observed him over the table. "I heard about your parent's divorce. That's got be hard, she said, Mr. Miller's earlier words coming back to her.

He didn't bite. "Yes, the party. That's what I truly brought you here for, in all honestly. I know you're the one who found Benjamin."

"Wrong," she remarked. "Your friends were there too: Collins and Crawley." Her vexation leaked into her words, a smile of her own etched onto her lips. Like his, sharp and one that didn't reach her eyes. But she let herself be rude in a way he would never. Something about Samuel made her want to make him hate her. And she embraced it.

"Right, but you found him. As he was."

"Dead, you mean." she tilted her head. She was tired and irritated and her body felt locked up with stress and the nonstop harsh work of her heart. She'd found a body, she'd been interrogated, all she wanted to do was go back to room and pass out face-down on the bed and Samuel was her one obstacle. "It was your house. You're the one who has to use that staircase. How is he by the way? I heard he was in the hospital."

Samuel shook his head. "No, he's dead, unfortunately." It didn't sound that unfortunate. He didn't look too broken up.

But still it was like a lightbulb shone on her. Thought so. "So, you told everyone a lie?"

"To lower suspicion and panic. People look up to us. Respect us. A death such as that is world-shattering."

Sylvi simply thought he was full of hot air but she nodded. "So, like... a cover-up?"

"Not the word I'd choose but yes, in a way."

"Why are you telling me this?"

He leaned forward. Smiling. "Why? You found him. You're a part of this. Which is exactly why I'd like you to be my plus-one to his funeral."

Had she been drinking anything, she would've spat it out. Had she been eating, she would've choked and died and had to have her own funeral where only two people would attend: her mother, April, and perhaps her elusive father.

"Excuse me?"

"I'm inviting you to be my plus one-"

"Yeah, yeah I got that. But why?" she hated the way he'd asked. Like it was a party and not a funeral of someone who was supposed to be close to him.

"I told you," he said, finally lifting his cup to his lips and taking the barest sip before graciously setting it down. "You've been caught in the web."

Before she had the chance to reply- her phone rang. It was her mother. Lorraine flashed across the screen, drab and unadorned. Sylvi set to decline but Samuel spoke.

"I'll let you take that. You can give me your answer whenever you find comfortable." He quickly scribbled something on a napkin using a pen from his chest pocket and slid it over to her. It was a number, his, presumably. Samuel waved a waitress over and readily put down a gilded card. "Check."