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"𝘼𝙩𝙩𝙖 𝙜𝙞𝙧𝙡," 𝙝𝙚 𝙥𝙪𝙧𝙧𝙚𝙙.
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In which Gwendolyn Bird, beaten and bruised by the death of her brother, meets a dark-haired, green-eyed man in the most fateful circumstances. Except, he's holding a gun against her he...
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Nine's hand tapped on the top of his black, vintage Cadillac Eldorado Biarritz impatiently, his sunglasses twirling in hand as he was forced to listen to the blonde in his passenger seat ramble on about absolutely nothing.
It was late at night following his conversation with the girl, and he was ready to return home and not have to think about anything revolving her for a good twelve hours.
As soon as this shit is over, he thought.
He was sitting outside of a local club with Niall, waiting for Nicholas Miller to exit so they could continue to follow him. They'd trailed him for a solid two hours, running errands and seeming perfectly normal, until he stopped in here, rushing inside with a briefcase and a curt nod to the security guard.
He frequented this place, and both Nine and Niall knew that solely by how easily he got in when there was a line of people that hadn't moved for the last twenty minutes standing outside.
Nine knew that this guy, the girl's friend's boyfriend, was likely involved with the Oswalds and therefore Uccello, but he wanted to confirm that on his own, without direction to Damian in case he needed the upper hand on the girl in the basement of their bar.
He was the one that spared her, and even though he'd only seen her once since they'd found out she was being targeted, she was his responsibility. He hated that.
But he had to admit, the jolt in the sudden leads they'd experienced solely by his decision to not kill her was proving to be getting them somewhere.
So, while a part of him regretted sparing the girl he should've shot, another part of him was patting himself on the back since it actually benefitted him in the end. Yes, it was selfish, but he couldn't force himself to care.
She already hated him, and he wanted it to stay that way.
Nine was forced out of his thoughts at Niall suddenly smacking his leg, cursing under his breath.
He hadn't stopped talking this entire time, and now he was killing a fly with his bare hand in Nine's pristine collectible vehicle. In truth, Nine wasn't actually listening to anything he said anyways, but the sight of Niall dueling with a bug further proved that it couldn't be anything important coming out of his mouth.
"Is this lad ever going to come out of there?" Niall hissed, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.
Nine rolled his eyes, "I don't know, why don't you give him a call."
Niall snorted, "Yea, right. Can we at least roll up the windows?"
"No," Nine immediately denied.
"Why?"
He brought his hand inside the car after ceasing his tapping, wrapping it around the steering wheel instead.
Niall never truly bothered Nine; they've been friends for a long time. But Nine enjoyed his peace and quiet, and he especially enjoyed not being questioned, regardless of who it was.
