Kill Or Be Killed // McHarrison

Four

I watch as his chestnut brown eyes search mine for any sign of being false or untrue. But after seemingly finding none, he puts his shakey hand out in front of mine.

"If yer in, then i guess i am too." he breathes, not breaking away his gaze like usual, his eyes set into something close to confidence. I nod sharply, taking his hand in my mine and shaking it firmly. "I don't really have much of a choice." he chuckles the last part under his breath, finally looking away and some-what blushing beneath all his hair.

"Oh don't be so sour; 'm savin' yer life, yer know." i laugh softly and for the first time since ever meeting him i saw him smile. Not the shy, bashful and terribly scared smile that he often wore, but a big, toothy grin, showing all his pointy teeth and even making his eyes squint a bit as well. I decided immediatly that i liked his real smile. It was goofy and showed off his long canines in quite a - dare i say - pretty way. His eyes scrunch up at the ends to create soft crows feet in his olive skin.

"That'll be the end of the session, Mr. McCartney. If you would please sign off at the registration desk, that'd be great, thank you." A neat woman says from the door although i hadn't noticed her presents until she spoke. I nod and smile briefly her way before turning my attention back on George.

"I'll get this all sorted out. Yer just sit tight and try keep safe." i say under my breath, knowing he can still hear me, and giving his black eye another glance. His eyes take on a happy glint and he nods some-what eagerly before offering me a timid little smile; making me miss his real smile.

And i exit the room with out another word, giving George a short nod before leaving the room. After signing off with the receptionist and recording my thoughts on the voice recorder back in my car, i finally head to the supermarket for a few things.

The place is pretty much bare and i stroll down a isle for the newspapers. Once i bend down to pick one up, my hands stop at a porn mag. Cliche, i know, but my eyes don't stop there. Glancing further down the isle i spot the male porn mags. Swallowing a lump in my throat, i inch towards them before realising what I'm doing. Shaking my head and trying to rid myself of the thoughts suddenly intruding my mind, i force myself to grab a Playboy magazine and head out of the isle.

My shopping continues, but as i eventually make my way to the checkout, i aubibly groan. Grudgingly i storm back over to the newspaper isle. Typical me; remembered the porn mag and not the bloody newspaper. Absent-mindedly, my eyes linger back to the male magazines and this time, i allow my finger to flip open a page, looking around me for other people before doing so. A broad, muscular man stand with extremely low cut jeans and a bare torso bless the paper. I swallow and flip another page. And another. Before i know it, my pants are tight and my cheeks are hot and flustered. Frantically looking around the desserted isles, i rip a newspaper and the magazine out of the rack and almost run to the check out.

"How are yer today?" A monotone voice drones for behind the counter and i swallow nervously, feeling like a teenager trying to smuggle beer as i watch the clerk scan the porn mags before placing them in a plastic bag. I almost sigh in relief when her only reaction is a side ways glance, before leaving in a haste back home.

***

"-i know-...i know, Mal. I-...But yer, see-...No! It's not,-...Mal.. Mal, listen, this kid, he is innocent, no clowning! He could get away with i-" *Beep* The phone line goes dead and i growl, slamming it into it's reciever. Mal Evans was England's most efficient lawyer, but he was also the most picky with his clients, and probably the most stubborn as well. I run my hands through my hair and sigh angrily. We were going to need a bloody good lawyer for George's case, and Mal was the guy. Or so i thought...

Standing up and lugging myself upstairs, in the back of my mind i notice the 11:54 on the wall clock and chuckle. Maybe Mal'll consider my offer more appropriately when i don't call him at arse-o'clock.