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eleven
HAROLD WAS, FOR LACK OF A BETTER TERM, A BORE. Under Alfie's direct orders, the Jewish gangster's underling was silently glued to Yelena side like a tick. He wore a suit, much different from his usual garbs at the distillery, as to blend in easier with Yelena as the woman did tend to wear more eye-catching clothing. It would look strange if the woman covered in fur and jewels was being followed around by a tall man in an apron.
Despite the close proximity between her and her dark haired guard, Yelena was glad that Alfie released her from house arrest. To be able to step a foot outside the threshold of her home, to smell the fresh air and to feel the wind blow through her hair, felt oddly exhilarating. The only downside was the man at her constant side, like a shadow, but that was temporary, until Alfie was convinced the woman wouldn't do anything stupid again.
Her first stop with her newfound freedom was to her therapist's office. The woman and Harold had a full-blown argument over the man staying outside of the building during her appointment with Donald. He claimed he had orders; she stated she deserved a semblance of privacy while talking to her shrink. They argued, nearly verbally assaulting each other, until Yelena got Harold to yield to her wishes.
Yelena was then able to attend her appointment, alone thankfully. She didn't doubt that if Harold entered the building, he would begin to suspect something going on between the woman and her doctor, probably would even have overheard them fucking as well.
After Yelena left the building, blaming her disheveled allure on her distressing emotions that came into play during her talk with her therapist, the woman stopped at a window. Under Harold's hard stare, she took in her reflection, wiping the smudged makeup below her eyes and ruffled her hair. She reapplied her lipstick, blowing a kiss at the people staring through the window. She turned on her feet and stopped at Harold's raised brow.
"What? I cried a lot today," The woman explained, referring to her 'conversation' with Donald. She plastered a sad expression on her features, looking down at the ground, then back up, misty-eyed at the man in front of her. "Nightmares."
The man's gaze, followed by his resolve, softened. Clearing her throat, Yelena strode down the street, her heels clicking against the cobblestone as her bodyguard fell into step with her.
Later on in the day, the unlikely duo found themselves at Ada Thorne's doorstep, in the midst of yet another argument. Their time together was growing strenuous and Yelena was counting the seconds until her brother deemed her fit to be on her own. If Alfie wasn't already still so annoyed with her, she would have shot Harold in between the eyes by now.
