Faust

Sides of a coin

"I was told you were acting strange at the front door two days ago." Lev says in an easy tone  with shoulder against the closet door. I let out a dry laugh unwillingly through reflexes as my mind's still trying to convince the other voice the obvious.

           "And what? You got bored on after hour?"
"Quid pro quo." His pose remain relaxed but the mischievousness can't be found in them no more. "You know it better than most."

           What you give, what you get.
One of golden rule of the lanes that keep all the screw looses and psychos in line. Don't expect no consequences to whatever foul or decent act you commit. Funny how it rhymes with Miss Qin's tone, and how he mentions it now. 

           "Does that mean the service's on the house?" Lev tilt both brows in a 'What you think?' I sign sarcastically, the need for a hit's never this urgent. "In that case,..Think you can mange another drink before the business hour?" The White Russian shut the panels and gestures an open hand at the heavy drapes behind me, as much a yes as denial.

           Splitting the burgundy red apart leads back to the relatively lascivious space and the rare sight of warden sitting on a stool, minding a half empty bottle of beer.
           Didn't even know they have it in stock.
           He gives a glance at us walking out the booth and each find their spot on sides of counter, then takes swig with his head lean a bit backwards. The stool under the giant squeaks a whimper.

           "One drink." Lev tog the blackened-tip filter on ashtray, letting it slip down the groove of the ashtray before taking it down the counter. "I don't want a circle of ashtray at the front." I nod and a peek at warden at one of the tables by black washed wall at southeast.

"Bobby burns." Might as well, since it's the last drink of today. Lev gets in motion wordlessly a hand on the Benedictine from earlier, a brush on the labels of whiskies on shelf.
          
           Xiao wants me dead isn't unspoken for. I finally let the thought stuck on throat reach my mind. She expressively made it clear many times at the start of last night. Fuck me, actions were taken too. The first time I'm outside Qin Yen's room, that wasn't a bluff of any means. The girl's eyes don't lie.

Bartender slips a scoop of rocks in a Boston shaker, brittle edges on stainless steel sounded like a squeal without the music's blur, more so when he drops a stirring rod in it.

Nonetheless. A rush of spite isn't the same as sneaking into a basement full of mercenaries just to put a hit on me. Still, those actions was before me and her got ....well aquatinted sounds off. Cognize'd be more plausible.

A hint of pressure nags my nape, it's not of oppressive nature, more of a brush. I lean my body on the counter, squeezing my arms before cocking my head to the right as my eyes tilt at the same direction to see warden indolently taking a swig of the small bootle in comparison to his palm. He gives another nod when he founds my glance.

"You look calm enough to stay sober." I turn around to lev's dry remark as the strainer blocks the cubes from pouring out with the liquor. I smiles bitterly with a corner of mouth dropping.  Knowing me well, (As infuriating as it is) he serves the drink without twist or cherry. Two fingers at the base of cocktail glass, he maneuver the glass over the outspread counter designed to be just out of reach for someone trying to grip the bartender's neck or use a club or knife on him. It also lets him play tricks by pulling whatever the fuck he desires under the counter.

"Let's just say she's not the most pressing matter." I turn the glass half a circle to see if the dribbles on its exterior's on the same level under the edge before taking a sip. It tastes sweet without leaving emphasis on the strong booze and a chocolate finish reminds me the pack of black in my jacket. The drink, despite the soothing taste, ain't no Sunday afternoon shit.