chapter twelve: it is not the mafia.

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a/n: i have not updated in a literal month.. so sorry wtf

anyway i hope u enjoy this chapter as much as i enjoyed writing it lol!!

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THERE ARE APPROXIMATELY 34 MINUTES LEFT OF THE CAR RIDE WHEN PIETRO AND JOEY SPEAK TO EACH OTHER FOR THE FIRST TIME ON THE TRIP

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THERE ARE APPROXIMATELY 34 MINUTES LEFT OF THE CAR RIDE WHEN PIETRO AND JOEY SPEAK TO EACH OTHER FOR THE FIRST TIME ON THE TRIP.

Pietro clears his throat. Joey looks at him sideways, but she doesn't turn her head.

"Yes?" She asks, keeping her eyes on the tinted glass in front of her, separating the two of them from the driver in the front.

"Hm?" Pietro feigns. "Oh, nothing. Just an itch in my throat."

Joey turns to him now, her expression blank, before turning forward again and leaning her head onto the black leather headrest behind her.

She takes a deep breath, and she lifts the navy blue garment sleeve off of the window to her right so she can look out at the land, which slowly becomes more and more built on the further they get downstate. To her left, Pietro is looking forward, drumming mindlessly with his right knuckles on Joey's green duffel bag, which is the only thing sitting between the two of them in the back seat. To his left, a blue garment bag identical to Joey's is hanging next to his window.

In her lap, Joey flips her two phones around in her hands; one that's her's, and the other that she was given a mere ten minutes earlier by Director Fury. One with half her life on it, and the other with just two contacts under fake names.

Meg was right— Fury relayed everything she told her yesterday this evening, as well as issuing her and Pietro their burner phones and 'disguises', and making it very clear that he's told the two of them everything he knows about this mission... which isn't much.

Pietro says something, but Joey's still entranced in her own thoughts. "What?" She asks.

She looks over at him, but he doesn't meet her eye. Instead, he shakes his head slightly. "How the hell did we end up mission partners?"

Although she's extremely inclined to take offense to this question, she simply turns her head back to the front, takes a breath, and replies with grace. "We're the same age. We're good fighters." She can't help but glance at him when she adds, slightly uncertain, "Carrelli says you won't tell my dad."

"We are not the same age," Pietro says, almost dismissively.

"That's what you took from that?" Joey scoffs, giving up any hope for a peaceful mission. Thanks a lot, Meg, she thinks. So much for any progress made with Pietro in the past two weeks. She thinks of replying with some snarky comment about how they look the same age, but she decides against giving him the satisfaction of being right: they are, in fact, two years apart.

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