Never An Angel

Seventh

        Magdalen was at the bottom of the stairs, tying her shoes and swatting Olive's nosy snout away. She shoved her shoulder at him until he stopped trying to lick her face.

     "Do you really have to go?" Petra whined, sitting on the stair behind Magdalen. She rubbed her hands down Magdalen's chest slowly. "It's late. Don't you have a manager to keep an eye on things for you?"

     Finished with her shoes, Magdalen leaned back, allowing roaming hands to move down to her stomach. "That's bad business."

     "Oh, come on..." Petra nearly purred as the tips of her fingers pushed to be snug underneath a tight waistband.

     Magdalen touched Petra's forearms and squeezed lightly. "I have things to take care of. One of us has to work, hm?" In an instant Petra's arms were gone and she was standing. Confused, Magdalen looked up and behind her. "What?"

     "Way to make me feel like shit, Magdalen."

     "What did I do?"

     "Don't do that, alright? If you hate that I'm not employed, just say so. Just fucking say you think I'm a slacker."

     "What? I'm not-" Huffing, Magdalen stood so she could face Petra the right way. "I never said, or thought, any of that. I was only joking."

     "Yeah. Okay."

     Magdalen shook her head. "I've got to go."

     "Don't fucking walk away from me."

     Tensing, Magdalen shut her eyes for a second. When she opened them again, she smiled apologetically, hoping it appeared genuine. "I'm sorry, truly. I never meant anything by that stupid joke." She stepped closer, watching Petra cross her arms over her chest defensively. "I wasn't trying to walk away. I have to get to work."

     Petra's mouth moved around for a few seconds. "It's a sore spot for me."

     "I'm sorry."

     "Just... whatever." Petra waved an arm then ascended the stairs. Olive followed close behind.

     Sighing, Magdalen turned and grabbed a coat by the door so she could leave. She had no interest in pursuing Petra and trying to soothe ridiculous, unnecessary fears. So she got into her car and drove off without a second thought. She had to be at the docks to supervise a pick-up, and she wasn't going to be late.

     When she was near her destination, her cell rumbled in her pocket. She didn't look at it until she was safely hidden and parked. It was from Petra, and it simply said 'Sorry for overreacting.' She stuffed her phone back in her pocket without responding.

     She pulled up the hood of her coat as she approached the spot Murello was waiting. Her presence was noticed with a smile. "There you are," Murello said. "I wasn't sure if you'd show up."

     "We both have a stake. Have to support."

     Murello chuckled and swiped under his red, runny nose. He shivered in his overabundant clothes and murmured, "Fuck this dick shrinking weather." He rubbed his gloved hands together. "Here we go."

     The shipment was just coming in. Magdalen watched Murello try to move to keep his blood flowing. The old boy wasn't fond of the winter months, and it amused Magdalen to no end. She, herself, enjoyed the cold, if only for the holidays. She didn't mind perpetually stiff nipples.

     "We should have scheduled this for a warmer season," Murello said, shifting his feet and bending his knees.

     "Maybe. But it's too late now. I'd rather supply humans when the heat isn't causing them to go nuts, anyway."