Dalaric "Ricky" Mikael was known for two things; being the country's best assassin and being a silent brute.
His demons enveloped him in darkness and he saw no light at the end of any tunnel.
Until a girl, who's weird and wears nothing but a pair of...
"Why do we have this desire to tease the innocent? Is it envy? "
- Graham Greene
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Fatima looks just as startled as me.
She's wearing a black chiffon hijab and a black hoodie and black jeans. Is this the dress code for all assassins? She pulls it off either way. I could never.
"Ricky? Y'know Maya?"
She looks confused and shocked that this 5'4 shortie is hanging with a trained assassin leader guy/pretty man.
I look up to Dalaric , who's standing next to the rolly chair which I'm sitting on. His arms are crossed and he raises one brow at her, almost challenging Fatima.
Why?
"I mean- uh. Sorry boss, what did you need me for?" She smiles sheepishly and I wave at her with both my hands.
She only waves back when she looks at Dalaric.
Dalaric moves in front of me, putting his hands on the armrest of the chair and leans forward. He's so close that I can count the colors in his eyes and spot the tiny pimple next to his eyebrow. I have a pimple cream that'll help. But I shouldn't assume that he needs my help. He still looks perfect. I'd spend a lifetime trying to solve this mystery.
His eyes penetrate my soul when he softly grasps my injured hand. He looks at the wrist and his face hardens, he then looks at Fatima and looks at me.
I get his message and nod. Fatima comes over to me and Dalaric almost reluctantly moves out of the way. She brings out a first aid kit which I hadn't noticed before and crouches down to take my wrist. It hurts while she examines it.
"Does this hurt?" Fatima moves my wrist in an outwards way and I bite my lip hard so I don't scream. It hurts.
I shake my head no but it's useless since Dalaric speaks up.
"Yes." Okie then.
She wraps it gently after applying a ointment that smells funny but I wish it was Dalaric doing it instead.
"You can go." He orders rudely.
"Thank you, Fatima." I glare at Dalaric and he raises a brow in question before sighing and rubbing his temples.
"Thank you, Fatima. You may go." He says grumpily.
Fatima seems shocked and stares at us for a while before leaving. I hope I can be friends with her. She doesn't seem to like me very much. Or she's just scared of Dalaric. Probably the latter.
