𝙑𝙞𝙭𝙚𝙣 || 𝙏𝙧𝙞𝙥𝙡𝙚 𝙁𝙧𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙚𝙧

Seven.

Chapter seven: Fool's gold

The thunder clapped in the jungle's valley and while the heavens opened, rain trickled down Margo's face. As the bleak sky swallowed them in its mist, it set an ominous atmosphere. Nothing in life is ever guaranteed, but when you are in an operation to take down a drug dealer and his fortune, you're a dead man walking.

In an effort to protect herself from the inevitable, Margo wore a camouflage bulletproof vest on top of her black rain jacket, which proved to be a phoney, considering she was dripping wet inside and out. With green cargo pants that were now ebony due to the damp, the same black combat boots from yesterday, gave the impression she blended into the scenery.

The sky was bleak and full of distress. To Margo, it seemed to be as if there was no happiness in this area of the jungle, for it was always irriguous and the humidity was suffocating. It appeared that they were in the middle of nowhere, though that was Lorea's motive in hopes nobody would find him nor his money, to which the gang were able to sniff him out like truffle pigs. 

God, his face, she sighed, melancholic. The way he looked through the eye of the sniper, his face contorted with a mixture of fear and concentration. He was divine and like forbidden fruit, she wanted a taste. Again and again until she got her fill so she'd be satisfied. During the whole trip, he'd never taken his hat off and honestly, she loved the way it made his appearance lethargic, yet his personality was completely boisterous. She scowled herself for acting like a teenage girl, slapping reality back into her system to remain put and on task. She couldn't lose herself now, especially not over a boy; one which she knew she was falling for and she couldn't stop herself.

"You alright, baby?"

Margo looked to Ben with disgust. "Don't call me that."

"Why not, baby?"

"We ain't together." 

"Awe, c'mon, baby." Ben removed his face from the sniper, holding his hands up in a joking surrender. "Don't tell me we're already having trouble in paradise."

Margo stifled a laugh. "You're an idiot, Benny."

As he peeked through the leaves and at Lorea's house, he mumbled into the radio. "It's a good thing these guys are so devout. Our dad used to say 'when it's raining, it means God didn't need us in church today'."

"He also said 'you go to heaven for the climate and hell for the company'." Ironhead added.

"Actually, I think Mark Twain said that." 

The challenge was tough and yet, Margo admired how the brothers found humour in the midst of it all. She couldn't help but laugh, earning a grin from Ben who's aim was to make her giggle in the first place.

Tom's voice was then heard over the crackle. "All right, keep the radio clear. Let's stay awake here."

Off radio, Margo turned to Ben with a shimmer of nostalgia and amusement in her exhausted lenses. "He sounds just like my father."

"Your father would beat your ass for comparing him to Tom."

Together, Margo and Ben chuckled with fond memories of their past comrade, friend and father in mind. He was strong and rarely laughed, always keeping a level head, though unfortunately, no matter how tough and brave he was, it didn't save him, so maybe if he lived a little and smiled from time to time, his soul would have stayed alive.

Ben couldn't help but lower his eyes to her tongue which skimmed over her bottom lip. The way she chuckled was simple, yet he couldn't get enough of it as though it was a melody. Her joy radiated, immediately causing warmth to spread in his heart and for once, after six years, he felt whole.