How the frog took him...

°Chapter 4

Sky blue 7020.

Red: 37%

Green: 56%

Blue: 81%

A frighteningly loud knocking jolted the frog out of his deep reverie. Confused, he ran to the door and found a German general at the door. Somewhat glum in his pyjamas, the bounty hunter saluted with the door cracked open and a sleepy expression on his face: 

"Good day, sir!"

"Sorry for the early disturbance, I see it was inconvenient just now," as if it was a matter of course, the General walked into the room with his dirty black boots, "If you will allow me to introduce myself, I am General O'Brien from the assigned area of London City. I have been assigned to oversee this case. As your superior, I would like a rough description of the plan, for as you and I know your victim is afflicted with a serious plague, I am happy to help in any way I can."

He sat down comfortably on the bed where a contract killer had been sleeping a few minutes ago. "Yes, sir, of course. Thank you for your assistance. My situation report was sent two weeks ago. I have already faced the convict but have not learnt anything relevant yet. The future does not look bright for my part. I will be forced, in order to get the information requested, to establish a connection in which I must not, under any circumstances, reject the victim at a touch."

The man on the bed scrutinised Mirco from bottom to top and then nodded, "I see. Sacrifices must be made. Don't get infected for any reason," he got up and left the room. 

In the hallway, he paused for a moment: "I somehow imagined the dreaded frog to be more impressive. Keep me posted."

An impertinence to end such a discussion, thought the half-asleep, feeling it an attack on his personality and its status. He did not need a wet nurse. Besides, he did not understand exactly the reason why he should kill his victim. It made him angry. Stinking angry. His previous victims, which is a considerable number, were all murderers, thieves, rapists and other scum, or just competition as the case may be. All orders had different, private movements, but someone who loved the same sex? How did this hinder or harass anyone? All the pent-up rage rumbled out of the pit of his stomach at the same time. He was a machine. From a very young age. He was not allowed to express an opinion. He tried to calm himself down by breathing exercises, which he managed quite well. So the bounty hunter closed the door again and was just about to lie back in bed when there was another rough knock on the door. Furious, he stomped to the door in his sky-blue striped pyjamas and was fed up with any kind of custom. Let them torture him, he wouldn't let them rob him of his pride again. With great force he tore open the door and wanted to scream. The rage was mostly marked on his face and had completely veiled the bounty hunter's eyes. He saw black. Breathing heavily, however, he found that his next victim was standing bewildered outside HIS door. What was he doing here? All anger vanished when he saw the green-haired man, but he only noticed this later in the day. 

"Are you okay?" the unannounced guest pecked out with a laugh. The laugh felt like a solid slap in the face. It was not the same as the day they met. A pinch of uncertainty was added.

"Sorry, I thought you were someone else," the hunter explained awkwardly, "Is there anything I can help you with?"

"Depends a lot on your schedule, I'd just like to enjoy some company," he pushed past the frog and entered the small flat unbidden, "quite a mess." 

That's how he got to know him sooner: cheeky, naïve and self-confident. The insecurity was already tucked away in the depths of the brain where not even the neural pathways would find it and the incident seemed forgotten. "I didn't expect to be mugged."

Sauntering, he looked at every detail of the room and despite the saying, Dean had to admit that everything was carefully tidied away and kept a strict order. A double bed with a grey cover, a desk with several documents on it, a wooden chair, a light blue carpet that looked so incredibly soft that one preferred to sleep on it and a bathroom. The room smelled of freshly felled trees: balanced, mysterious and well-kept. What also didn't escape him was the smell of an essential balm hanging in the bathroom. You couldn't afford something like that as an ordinary citizen, there was a lot of money in it. This beguiling composition provided a feeling of original luxury, which made Dean dream. Mirco meanwhile lay back in his bed. He was surprisingly indifferent to what the other was doing, the main thing was that he was allowed to catch up on his lack of sleep and possibly harp on the case with himself. He was all the more surprised when he opened his eyes again and found Dean lying next to him with the widest grin. Head to head, and the distance could have been a little more generous for Mirco's sake. 

"I'm bored," the green-haired man spoke, looking at his counterpart's long lashes in fascination without shame. 

"Then go"

"Nope."

The bounty hunter really had other moral problems at the moment that he never had otherwise. He thought he had already lost empathy for all the people in the world. Apparently that wasn't the case. 

Sleepily, he turned on his other side, only to feel Dean's breath on the back of his neck a few seconds later. A pleasant goosebump spread in that place and instantly he craved closeness.

This was not good, not good at all. Such a thing was not allowed to happen. He had to seduce him, not the other way around! The combination between the unique green hair, the freckles, the laugh and this damned flirting. He had to stop it. Right now. Panicking, the bounty hunter got up and grabbed some fresh clothes and ran to the bathroom saying, "I'll get dressed, we'll be happy to do some company later." Dean Whiteford, on the other hand, sat up straight and had a satisfied smile on his face. He knew from the start that there was something rotten about this guy. Mary had told him everything and he himself was aware that the meeting in the bar was no coincidence.

What was behind it?

He was dangerous.

Good thing Dean loved danger.