𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐢𝐫¹ || 𝘴. 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄

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LAWRENCE, KANSAS
March 4th, 1998

IT WAS EVIDENT that the dark-haired teenager in the corner of the diner was pissed off.

The way she stared forward, her stern expression, the harsh eyes, and the way her lower lip was pinched between her teeth. She was mad. It was if she was about to lash out; she just needed the push.

A waitress approached her, the second time in 10 minutes, to check up on her customer. "You okay, kid?" The old lady asked, glancing at the filled cup of coffee and the untouched bagel on her tray. "Anything else you want?"

The teenager didn't answer, just kept looking forward, like she was waiting for something. It was clear that she was thinking, but no one knew of what. And no one dared ask, somewhat expecting to be yelled at.

"You just let me know," the waitress added before turning and heading toward other customers.

The girl tapped her finger against the flat surface of the table in uneven beats. Reaching the eighth tap, she heard footsteps. She freed her lip from the bite of her teeth when a man sat down across from her.

"All right, I'm here." He spoke, deep and tired.

"You said you'd be here 20 minutes ago." The girl voiced at last, thought she kept her tone low.

He leaned forward, "well, I had to make sure we weren't followed, didn't I?" He waited a beat before adding: "Why am I here, kid?"

"You said you'd bring me the guns, John." She lowered her voice even more at the word of weapons. "I can't really get 'em myself without triggering something."

"You're just gonna have to learn not to trigger something." He argued as if it was the most obvious thing. "Did the card work?"

She slowly nodded. "I was able to withdraw cash to pay for the motel. Barely, though. It's not enough for weapons, nor for any device that could help me acquire said items."

"That's not my problem. I held up my end of the deal. We're done, Reign."

He was about to stand up, but she talked before he could, a hint of anger laced in her voice: "No. We're not done!" From the corner of her eye, she could see heads turn and her voice became almost a whisper when she spoke again; "You owe me. You want to remind me what I did for you?"

Against his will, he sat back down. "There's no need."

"Then get me the damn guns. I fucking need them." She clenched her fist under the table, fury itching at the tip of her fingers.

He leaned forward. "You don't need them. You shouldn't even have them. You're fourteen."

"I do need them." She argued, her brows furrowing at his attempt to get out of their agreement again.

He cursed under his breath. "Fine. You'll have them by Friday. Lawrence Inn, at 1900 hours. I bring the guns, you give me the folder. Then, we're done." This time, he didn't give her time to stop him before exiting the diner.

"Fucking Winchester." She muttered under her breath.

The waitress appeared again, watching after the man, before turning her gaze to the teenager. "You should stay away from that man." She said, recognizing him from a decade earlier. "He's nothing but trouble."

The dark-haired girl looked up at the woman. She sounded sincere and the kid felt a sliver of warmth. But she couldn't afford warmth with the way she lived. "Trouble's all I know." She mumbled before placing her remaining cash on the table and grabbing the bagel while she stood up.

But despite the planned trade, the girl never saw him again.

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