Under the Grit

All I Want

"So what did he look like?" Evangeline asked, her voice steady, though her curiosity sharpened her tone. She leaned forward slightly, her notebook resting on her lap, pen poised, ready to catch every detail Arthur might give her.

Arthur shifted his weight, his brow furrowed as he thought back. They were in his shop again, the scent of motor oil and steel hanging in the air, the soft hum of machinery in the background. It was a stark contrast to the topic at hand, but the gritty atmosphere seemed to fit the tension between them.

"I couldn't really see much," he admitted, his voice low and serious. "It was dark, and the streetlights barely did anything. But I could tell he was big. One of those types you don't wanna mess with, y'know?" Arthur leaned back against the workbench, crossing his arms. "He had this energy—like he owned the place. But I didn't stick around to get a better look."

Evangeline nodded, scribbling down notes. The gang violence that had been plaguing the city was becoming more real with every story she uncovered. She could tell this encounter had rattled Arthur more than he was letting on, even if he was playing it off as just another night in the city.

"How close did you get to them?" she asked, trying to get more specifics despite his evasiveness.

Arthur rubbed the back of his neck, his gaze drifting toward the garage door, as if remembering that night. "Close enough to know I shouldn't be there," he said with a dry laugh. "I saw a few others with him, though. They were hanging by one of the cars, talking low. Something was off, so I kept my head down and just kept walking."

Evangeline frowned, her pen slowing. "What were they driving? Did anything about them stand out?"

Arthur shook his head. "It was too dark, like I said. Just shadows and bad vibes." He glanced at her, reading the frustration on her face. "I wish I could give you more, but I wasn't about to stop and introduce myself."

Evangeline let out a breath, knowing he was probably right not to get too involved. But still, her mind raced with the implications of what Arthur had witnessed. If the gang was moving around in his neighborhood, who else had seen them? What else was being kept under wraps?

"Have you seen them around since?" she asked, biting the inside of her cheek as she awaited his answer.

Arthur shook his head, his jaw tightening. "No, but... I get the feeling they're always close. Like they're watching." His words hung in the air between them, a chill slipping into the warm shop.

Evangeline tapped her pen against the edge of her notebook, a small frown creasing her brow. Arthur's words sent a ripple of unease through her, though she tried not to show it. The idea that the gang could be lurking nearby, always watching, unsettled her more than she wanted to admit. She glanced up at him, taking in the set of his jaw, the way his eyes had darkened with the weight of what he'd just shared.

"Do you think they know about you?" she asked, her voice quieter now, the question more personal.

Arthur met her gaze, holding it for a moment before he answered. "Maybe," he said, the word heavy with uncertainty. "They've seen me around, working late sometimes. But I keep my head down, try not to give 'em a reason to notice me. Ain't lookin' to get involved."

Evangeline nodded, understanding the careful balance he was trying to maintain. The gang wasn't just a story anymore; it was a real threat, one that could easily pull someone in if they weren't careful. She felt a pang of guilt for asking him to talk about it, knowing that her questions were dragging him back into a situation he'd rather avoid.

"I don't want to put you in any danger," she said softly, her pen still now, resting against the page. "I can keep you out of the article if you want."

Arthur's eyes flicked up to meet hers again, his expression softening slightly. "You're not puttin' me in danger," he said with a shrug, though his tone was gentle. "Besides, you're the one diggin' into all this. Maybe I should be worryin' about you."