Origin- Mark 2

Chapter 5- The Rogue, The Boy, and The Ginger

I called The Rogue and asked if she knew anything about the break out. She told me she did, and we arranged for a place to meet up.

I still count it as a date.

I caught the tube at 11am to our rendezvous point. I can tell you, that was the first time my job ever felt so glamorous- it felt like something out of 50s film. I wore my trench coat specially, and bought an expensive fountain pen to complete the look. I also spent 3 hours that morning practicing my New York accent and teaching myself not to gag when smoking a cigar.

Oh yes, I was all set.

I managed to catch the tube when tourists decided it was the best time to all get in the same compartment to visit all of London’s landmarks. It was hell. I managed to get squashed between two women that babbled Japanese over my head. I occasionally heard the words Big Ben.

They got off at the next stop. I gave a sigh of relief which quickly turned into an inward groan when I saw an entire platform of tourists attempting to pile in.

I found myself thrown right against the door, my face shoved against the glass. I turned my head to gasp some air, to see a man hanging onto the ceiling bar. I could see his sweat. The tube lurched, and my face was thrust right into his stinking armpit.

Thankfully the next stop was mine, and I was so squashed against the door that when it opened I fell flat on my face. I scrambled to my feet and walked away as if nothing had happened. Tried to walk away with as much dignity that’s possible when your coat is bunched right up, your briefcase is open and things are falling out, and your shoe is about to fall off.

I rushed straight to the gents’ and sorted myself out in the mirror, and washed my face vigorously to get the sweaty-man funk off. I don’t know if you’ve ever tried to sniff YOUR face, but I can assure you that it is as hopeless as licking your elbow.

I finally made my way to the café, and found her sitting at a table next to a teenage boy.

I took the spare seat and eyed the boy warily. I hoped he wouldn’t mind being the third wheel.

He was blonde haired and blue eyed, I’d say about 15 years old, and had a mean smirk permanently plastered to his face. I’d seen that smirk enough times to know this boy was nothing but trouble.

My gaze shifted to my rogue ex-cop. My jaw almost dropped onto the table.

She was a beautiful brunette. Her lips were bright red and full, her eyes were big and as green as grass. Her hair was tied back in a fancy bun with a plait wrapped around it. She wore a red blouse with a black blazer and formal trousers. She smelt like vanilla. I felt an inner glow when I realized that she had made an effort for me. Get in there Stanley, you still got it, I said to myself.

She raised her delicate arm and checked her expensive watch- oh; her nails were so perfectly manicured! ‘Let’s do this quickly- I got a date in an hour.’

Just like that, my heart fell down my chest and dribbled out my shoes onto the floor. I swear, I almost cried.

‘Oh, yeah, ‘course’ I forgot all about my accent and managed to adopt that stupid, weedy voice that last made an appearance with Obanoffski.

I tried to cover up my heartbreak by looking for a cigar in my briefcase. I then remembered that everything had fallen out.

‘I’m Esme, and this is D’ she said, gesturing at herself and the boy.

‘Hi, I’m Sssssstanley’ Way to go Stanley, just go ahead and do another awkward snake impression.

I got out my pen and notepad, ‘So, what can you tell me?’