POINT BLANK.

o.

o. PROLOGUE.

MITCH RAPP admired change, and welcomed it with open arms. He liked to think the spontaneity of desire was the epitome of life.

Hence, in a breezy October, he packs his bag to move into a fairly quiet area of some fairly quiet town, where withered leaves scraped across sidewalks and the wind entwined itself with bare Autumn branches.

The dark haired male pushes on the latch of the window from his new third floor apartment, immediately being hit with the strong scent of coffee that made his face contort. His initial instinct was to shut the window, but his newly adopted concept of welcoming change forced it open again with gritted teeth.

Mitch took pride in being a lone wolf. It's not that he didn't enjoy the company; he definitely did, but moving from place to place led to not having enough time to establish relationships with meaningful bonds that felt necessary to keep in touch.

Except from Lacey. The small dachshund scampered to Mitch's feet, her paws clicking against the new floor. He bent down, scratching softly behind her ears before she energetically runs to another part of her new abode.

Mitch spent a while unpacking a few boxes, his mind racing with thoughts for the future, what classes he had tomorrow, and how he was to go about life here. He wondered where the nearest vets were in case of an emergency, and how the hell he would carry his groceries four blocks down from the market.

Welcoming change. The man stood idly in the midst of the blandly decorated space, shortly sighed, before grabbing his coat and keys, saying bye to Lacey, and forgetting to lock the door behind him.

The first day Mitch Rapp ever drank coffee was the first day he met Appoline James.

He had followed the strong scent that had seeped into his apartment and allured him across the street, stopping momentarily before its exterior.

'Cyanide', the large cursive reads, and Mitch rethinks what he now perceives as a possibly risky life decision, but settles on how the coffee would probably taste like that anyway, no matter the shop name.

The door interrupted a wall of windows, lined against wiped down tables and streaked clean. Mitch observed that the interior was almost how he had expected it to be; very vintage, with wood adorning every corner, using large filament bulbs suspending from the ceilings as light, and fake brick vinyl on all three walls. The central counter was almost circular, with only one queue, which Mitch had joined, but it seems as if the baristas worked on all sides of it, washing mugs and pouring endless amounts of cocoa. Groups sat clustered around the shop, chatting idly and taking quick sips of their beverages.

Rapp waited his turn in line, feeling the need to participate in the typical impatient tapping of the feet tradition and the indecisive order routine. He was about to sit down at the table he had eyed since he walked through the double doors; a somewhat stunning dark mahogany table by the corner of the windows, when his uncoordinated self knocked the paper cup between two bodies - himself, and a red haired girl.

Mitch winced in antipication for the public humiliation he was about to recieve from her, but instead caught glimpse of the smile that spread across her lips like an ocean ripple.

She points at her hoodie, "Look, now it's designer."

Mitch apologises and offers to buy her a coffee, to which she replies she most definitely has enough at the moment, so resulting in him buying himself a replacement coffee. He sighs, giving her yet another apologetic look, "Is there anything else I can do for you?"

The girl's lips momentarily gather to one side in thought, then splay a courteous smile, "Your company is enough."

So he settles down on the table closest to the door, one away his pre-destined desire, and she follows suit. He takes a second to glance at her, admiring the tresses of red that frame her beautifully freckled face. Her eyes were kind yet piercing, but he liked her smile the most.

After continual blowing on the coffee and odd looks from both the girl sitting across from him, and the elderly couple at the nearby table, Mitch dips his head down to kitten lick the drink on the table, and immediately withdraws himself, scrunching up his face in disgust.

Appoline watches him and laughs, handing him one of the sugar packets that her fingers had been idly playing with, "First time coffee drinker?"

Mitch takes the packet with caution, "How'd you know?"

"You ordered the most bitter drink on the menu," she lets a chuckle slip, and Mitch looks up from his stirring to smile back, "You don't seem like the bitter type."

"You don't seem like the coffee type," Mitch surveys closely.

"Oh, good eye! Yeah, I had a date. Think he stood me up, but I guess that's good since I don't even like coffee." Mitch holds a blank expression, that eventually falls into a deep smirk. He continues to watch the redhead in front of him ramble to her heart's desire, and in turn they fall into innumerable conversations, just like old friends.

''I'm trying this new thing where I accept change, instead of scorn it.'' Mitch is almost ashamed to look up from the last drops of his coffee and meet her eyes.

Appoline withdraws her breath, ''Me too.''

Mitch Rapp crosses the street again, a to-go coffee cup in his hand. Two hours and thirty seven minutes with Appoline James seemed to have changed everything.