Poor Decision (that's the name for now)

Boy howdy, do I not know where this is going

You awaken to the sound of running water followed by footsteps from another room. You seep deeper into the chair, feeling content. You wrap yourself more tightly into the blanket and close your eyes once again.

"Glad to see that you're back from the dead," he smirks.

Hesitantly, you open your eyes, greeted by yet another familiar sight. He is around your height and almost a year older than you being eleven months, as he loves to remind you, twenty five , slightly taller maybe, and surprisingly fit for such a hermit. He has large chocolate eyes and buzzed black hair. He has a strong jawline and slight dimples when he smirks, curling his lips and right eyebrow, an often mischievous glint in his gaze, incipient in their want for a snide remark. Skin like dark chocolate -- rich brown and unexpurgated with pigment that your skin very much lacks, being so pale and all.

"Tea?" he asks, holding a tray.

You grunt in response.

"Your responses are always so...colourful, aren't they?" he chides sarcastically, handing you a cup from his tray. He sets the tray down on the coffee table and sits back in his chair. He pulls out his metal flask and pours into his cup.

"You have a problem," you mumble, looking down at your drink. " How can you stand it? Alcohol has such a foul smell."

"It's simple. I hate almost everyone," he replies with a cheeky grin.

"Sounds like a healthy way of handling things." You look at him as you say this.

"You don't help my attitude one bit, ya know that?"

You raise an eyebrow at this response. "Oh really?

"You realize you're the queen of pessimism?"

"Hmm."

"That! That right there!" He points at me as he barks this.

"What?"

"That 'Hm' thing you do all the time! You're always doing that when you're pissed!"

"Better?" You squint your eyes, glaring as you "smile" at him -- a look redolent of a killer.

"Now you're just being rude again," he sighs, feeling exacerbated. "Before we really start arguing, we should get to the more urgent matter at hand. You have it?"

"Yeah." You pull out the letter and set it on the table. "That's it."

"What's it say?"

"That's the thing, there's nothing in the letter except one thing."

"What?"

"A warning. Has quite an ominous feel to it, the way I see it."

He quirks his left brow at this.

You roll your eyes in response.

"Ahh. Yes. Very specific," he shoots back. "Now what, may I ask, does this warning entail?"

"Well, ya know, the usual threat," you begin. "Since they couldn't figure out who I was, they sent pictures of my work, along with whatever scraps of a trail I left for them.

Look..." You unwrap yourself from the comfort of the blanket begrudgingly and stand, popping your back and stretching your arms up. Taking the letter back into your possession, you release its contents onto the table. A series of photos escapes the envelope and you check that each one is facing up, showing what little they could capture of your image. The majority features rubble remaining from the blast and bodies belonging to guards they sent after you.

"I see they sent people after you. Took care of them without much trouble, huh?

Another grunt.

"You realise that someday you will get caught?

"This is not the time for a lecture on skill, now is it Iden?"

"Fine then. Did you get the information at least?" he queries.

"Do I ever disappoint?" you say, snidely.

"Only whenever I hear you, yes," he answers.

You sigh, throwing a deadpan look in Iden's direction.

"Such a beautiful face," he remarks.

"Screw you. Anyway, I got what we needed, so it doesn't matter, no matter how much you want to rag on my skills -- or how beautiful you think I am."

"It was a joke," Aiden says.

"That i graciously hold against you and in my advantage. By the way what time is it?" you continue.

"10:56 p.m. Why?"

"We should get to sleep," you remind him.

"Sure. We have plenty to plan for tomorrow."

"Agreed."

You stand from your chair and follow Iden down a poorly lit hall from the living room to your quarters for the night. He points to a lone door present among three you spot in the corridor. It stands adjacent to what you assume is his room. He retreats into its domain, locking the entrance as he does so. Assuming the opposing apartment is where you will be lodging , you enter the room he motioned to, preparing for the night to come and the work that will follow as the sun rises the next morning.

***