illicit | five hargreeves - EDITING

two

chapter two: dwindling mercurial high

Anthony Baudelaire let out a sigh of boredom as he tapped his pencil against the table, resting his cheek against the bottom of his palm. He had always hated Mondays, they were always the worst day for him, and I think most people would agree on that one. It was always just endless hours of staring at the wall and willing the clock to just move faster.

An average week at the Commission for Anthony went mostly the same everyday. He spent majority of his time in the offices, and some of his time with the Handler, doing whatever fucked up experiment or test that she needed him to do for that week. The weeks were so painfully long and tedious, but on the bright side, at least the Handler allowed him to have the weekends off.

He didn't have many friends at the Commission, well he had Herb who had kind of taken him in back when he was a teenager. Anthony was also friendly enough with one of the assassins, Hazel, who was surprisingly a really nice guy. Although, his partner ChaCha had a very deep dislike for Anthony, even after all of those years.

He let out another sigh as he glanced around the dull room, the constant tap of his pencil was extremely irritating to most of his coworkers, but none of the case management staff would ever actually say it to him. Glancing down at his typewriter, that he still couldn't properly use even after all of those years, he read the few words that he had typed: March 23rd 2019, Reginald Hargreeves - suicide.

Anthony didn't care enough to figure out who Reginald was, but he did still feel slightly bad for the man who's suicide he was technically planning. He squinted slightly as he read again. Hargreeves. He swore he knew that name from somewhere. He racked his brains for a few moments, before deciding that the thinking was too much effort.

He was too bored to actually bother to even make an attempt at his assignment that he had absolutely zero interest in. If he was lucky, it would be passed over to another worker eventually, only if he waited long enough to hand it in. That's what usually happened with the dumb assignments that he couldn't bring himself to even been slightly absorbed in.

The twenty-three year old pushed out his chair, before he stood up and swiftly left the room, walking out into the hallway. Anthony silently hoped that neither the Handler or AJ Charmichael would notice him, because he really just didn't have the energy to make conversation with them that day. Thankfully, he made it to the bathroom safely. He swung the door open and was immediately met face-to-face with Number Five.

"Hello, Hargreeves" he greeted him without even properly thinking about it, but that was until the realization quickly set in. Oh.

"Hi Anthony" Number Five replied, glancing over at the man before going back to looking at himself in the mirror, pushing back the loose strands of hair out of his face "You come in here to smoke or something?"

Anthony scoffed "Can a man not come in here to take a shit? Have a piss? Jerk off? Jesus Christ, the stereotype you have on me" he muttered as he leaned against one of the walls, pulling out a packet a cigarettes and taking one out "It's insulting, honestly" he added, holding the cigarette in between his lips.

"...I was right though" Five pointed out.

He shrugged as he lit the cigarette "Shut up, do you want one?"

"No thank you, I don't smoke" Five shook his head.

"Probably a smart idea" Anthony agreed with a slight nod, taking the cigarette into the between of his middle and pointer finger, blowing out the smoking from his mouth in an alluring manner; Five couldn't tell if it was intentional or not, and part of him hoped that it had been "I've literally smoked since I was a kid, so I can't really stop now"