Overexposed

Like a Saint

Chapter 15: Like a Saint

“Ozzie?” Haz looks up at me first and appears panicked. I, however, am happy to see he’s alive, but the feeling is lost easily as soon as I spot the Abscido poster boy. Romeo’s gray irises lock onto mine with mild surprise and I’m about to start shouting. Shouting what? I’m not sure, but Haz walks forward quickly, grabbing the crook of my elbow and steering me back into our room before I can say anything.

“What’s going on?” I try to look past him, but am unsuccessful as he uses his body as a barrier, ultimately closing the door with his foot.

“Nothing. Tommo’s taking care of it,” Haz’s response comes quickly accompanied by a tone of finality, but I’m nowhere NEAR done.

“I have a right to know,” I insist, shifting the position of the blanket so that I can cross my arms. “I won’t interrupt. I just need to understand why that piece of shit Abscido scum is here.”

My companion lets out an amused hum, “You’re so adorable when you’re angry.”

“Haz! Focus!” I make the mistake of throwing the blanket at him. Shit that’s right, I’m not wearing pants.

“Nice view.”

“HAZ!”

He sighs, putting his hands up, “Romeo says he only wants to talk to Tommo. I don’t know exactly what’s going on, but Tats found him with a gun pressed against Tess’ head, demanding to be brought back here.”

“And where’s Tats now?” I can’t help but ask, finding the whole situation distasteful.

“I don’t know,” Haz stoops down to pick up the blanket, handing it back to me so I can regain some modesty, tone dropping into a solemn seriousness. “But I think we should get out of here for a while.”

I don’t even bother with the redundant list of questions about the guy with the abundant tattoos, instead asking, “Why? What about everyone else?”

“Ozzie, right now I just want you to worry about YOU. Everyone here has had years of experience and real practice using weapons offensively, including Little Man,” my companion lectures, “So until you know how to defend yourself-”

“Hey, I can throw a pretty good punch and I have the bruises to prove it,” I retort halfheartedly, still trying to listen to the conversation that had been going on outside the door. Although, the lack of muffled yelling tells me they’ve either stopped or moved.

Furthermore, Haz seems intent on diverting my attention, talking over whatever I might have been able to hear anyways.

“Honeybee, punches rarely work against a gun. You need to be able to fight back on the same level and I don’t think you know how to HOLD a firearm, much less USE it,” his tone is teasing, but I know he’s serious and probably right. Knowing me, I’d accidentally shoot MYSELF.

“But isn’t Romeo’s gun useless anyways?” I know I’m fighting a losing battle, yet the twinge in my chest at the thought of being so utterly useless and in the dark won’t go away.

Haz rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest, “This one actually had bullets in it. We checked and I would rather NOT have you get shot too.”

“FINE! Fine,” I concede, not wanting to push against a brick wall anymore as staying here is CLEARLY not doing anything to answer my questions, “Keep your pants on, I’ll go.”

The moment I agree, his smile returns.

“On the contrary, I believe it’s YOU that needs to keep YOUR pants on,” Haz lunges forward, grabbing me and burying his face in my neck. Much to my affectionate displeasure, he gently and playfully nips at the soft skin there, the action stifling his laughter, though doing nothing to quiet mine.