Partners In Crime {Michael Jackson & Ariana Grande}

[1]♡ talk to me♡[1]

Misty

I re-applied my red lipstick - this had to be the fourth time in the past fifteen minutes - and crossed my legs in my chair, leaning my arms onto them. The music echoed through the bar, and people danced around with one another.

I sat waiting. I didn't know who, or what I was waiting for.

I only knew him as well as everyone else did. And everyone else knew nothing.

He was supposed to be coming in at exactly eight thirty. He would hover over to the bar, and the bartender would already know what he would want.

He never said a word - instead communicated through his eyes which were allegedly a hypnotising soul-devouring brown.

I had an hour and a half from when he entered to make him talk, and if not then both of our lives were in danger.

Everyone's head turned as the door slammed shut. The music stopped blaring and I noticed as the woman's breathing next to me became irregular.

I feared to face him, I didn't know what to expect.

Slowly, I turned to look at the man I would have to make love me.

He had olive skin, but his face was shielded by a white fedora pulled over his eyes.

He wore a blue undershirt, white suit pants, a white jacket and a white tie.

I had never been so enticed by someone's posture, and that seemed to have a chain reaction.

Several people gasped and some of the men pulled out guns as he moved abruptly, reaching for something in his pocket. I kept my eye on the coin he flipped, and found myself impressed when it went successfully into the jukebox.

People got back to their business as the music played, but I noticed him sauntering to the bar. He smoothed out a crease in his suit and tipped his fedora lower, though he turned his head wearily as if he was looking for something.

This had to be him.

I saw him receive a drink and made my way over, brushing past a few dancers but walking elegantly, careful not to alarm him.

"Can I sit?" I questioned, noticing my voice was higher than usual.

He gestured with his hand, so I took it as a yes and sat on the stool beside his.

I gazed at the counter, unsure of what to say next. What do you say to someone that doesn't talk?

"I'm Misty... and you?" I was facing him now, though he was looking straight down into his glass. He took a swig of his drink and cleared his throat.

"Did they send you?" His voice sounded soft and pure, which shocked me greatly.

How did he know already? I'd only said a few words.

"W-what? Did who send m-me? I'm here, just like you I suppose..." I replied, cursing my stutter under my breath. His mouth curled into a smirk, but it was an 'oh really?' kind of smirk.

"And you know why I come here?" He spoke again, though his voice sounded so sweet, I could tell he was trying to deepen it. I disregarded his question, as it was true, I didn't.

"What are you drinking?" His serious face made me feel as if I was interrogating him, but I had to, in a way. I didn't want to get myself killed.

"Well as you know why I come here, you should know the usual,"

I sighed as I could tell this was going to be difficult, "I don't share details with my opponents," He finished.

"Well," I began, mimicking him in a way, "I'm sure that telling me what you're drinking isn't exactly 'details', and besides, I'm not your o-opponent," There was that giving stutter again, couldn't he just be easy to talk to?

I didn't know if I was getting anywhere with this, but at least he had said something, whether he was being stubborn or not.

I had yet to learn that this stranger was the least of my worries.

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Sorry for the short chapter! The story does have some longer chapters but I just couldn't wait to get this published! Keep reading folks ;)