?

2. The porch

They were sat on the steps of a nice, white painted porch. Not theirs of course, they'd hopped the fence that surrounded the property because, well, why the hell not?
"You're really leavin'?" She asked, trying not to let the sudden dryness in her throat strain her voice.
"'Fraid so, Jo," he gave her the answer she asked for, simple and fair.
Except it wasn't fair. This wasn't him, surely? Sure, he was no angel, but a hitman? If she could only convince him that -
"Sorry, Jo, but you're doing that thing where your thoughts are obvious by the look on your face," he chuckled for a second and looked towards the lake, a couple miles out, "I know right? The apple don't fall far from the tree, does it?"
She hated his father. She hated his father because she was afraid he'd take after him. And it'd finally happened.
She managed to grab the words from the swirling whirlwind in her mind, "Why are you leaving?"
"I told you, Jo. I found the profession for me, and I'm pursuing it."
"You've found it? You wouldn't find your head if it wasn't attached to your shoulders."
"I'm not catchin' your meaning, Jo."
"I mean that you've barely looked for professions. How can you just decide to leave m-" she caught herself, "leave your life here in Texas."
"I don't know how to explain it. You'll understand when you find your callin', believe me."
She didn't want to cry in front of him. She just lent her head onto his shoulder and had a staring contest with the grass a few feet in front of her.
Seconds seemed like minutes, and minutes seemed like hours. They sat there in silence for all eternity before he stood up.
He started whistling something, and ambled down the drive. When he got to the fence again, he turned around, and showed her that beautiful smile of his.
"I'll see ya 'round Jo."
And the Hitman Deluxe walked out of her life.