10-03-2024, 01:05 AM
A twinge of grief twisted his heart at the thought of moving. He had liked this place. It had been new to both of them. This house had reflected them, their new life together. Memories had been created, however fleeting their time here had seemed.
He didn't say anything to Ayden, but inside, he felt fury at these people who would so callously and casually disrupt their life. It's not like there weren't others out there who did not also....work as assassins.
That last part, yeah. It seemed a strange dichotomy for this to be his wife, for her to have been- to be, he amended- a contract killer. It wasn't that she was all soft and weak hearted. No. Not at all. A lionness, more life. Not tame.
Which he much preferred. Milqtoast women had never interested him. He liked a woman who challenged him and spoke up, made him think, question. A partner with whom he could be completely honest.
He didn't tell her, but she knew him well enough, he was sure, to know that he very much hoped that when this was all over, the people who had come along and uprooted them found themselves a serious case of deadness.
But for that to happen, they had to get through this. To her question, "No. I don't have his number. I might have a way to find out, if I can reach a guy I used to know. But....your contacts might be better."
And then, he couldn't help a smirk. Yeah, definitely a lionness. "Yeah, DC sounds about right. We can scope it out, find a spot for you." More like she would do the scoping. Beyond the vague idea- mostly from TV and movies and such- of her need to find a spot where she clould lay out on a roof peering through a scope with some privacy, he really didn't know her process.
It wasn't like she spoke to him in detail about her missions. He was still a bit sqeamish about the rubber meeting the road, there. It was something he'd learned decades ago- why he'd never be a doctor or a nurse or even an emergency medical tech. He wasn't good at compartmentalizing things. He felt too much empathy to be able to focus on the task at hand.
Empathy was a wonderful thing. But when someone was bleeding out from a horrible wound, it wouldn't staunch the hemorrhaging. Good medical people were able to box away their feelings and focus on triaging and treating the situation.
He'd killed before, but it was in anger. And he felt no guilt over that. And when Hayden had died, he had begun drinking himself to death. He was mostly all in when it came to things. It was a limitation, to be sure. But he really didn't know what to do about it.
The flip side, of course, is why he was so good with people and with making friends. He had never been at a job or in a place where he didn't form friendships quickly.
It was a tradeoff, but one he was content with.
"What else?" He was sure they would be planning for a while. Planning was good.
It kept him from fantasizing about how he'd love to kill these fuckers who blew up their lives.
He didn't say anything to Ayden, but inside, he felt fury at these people who would so callously and casually disrupt their life. It's not like there weren't others out there who did not also....work as assassins.
That last part, yeah. It seemed a strange dichotomy for this to be his wife, for her to have been- to be, he amended- a contract killer. It wasn't that she was all soft and weak hearted. No. Not at all. A lionness, more life. Not tame.
Which he much preferred. Milqtoast women had never interested him. He liked a woman who challenged him and spoke up, made him think, question. A partner with whom he could be completely honest.
He didn't tell her, but she knew him well enough, he was sure, to know that he very much hoped that when this was all over, the people who had come along and uprooted them found themselves a serious case of deadness.
But for that to happen, they had to get through this. To her question, "No. I don't have his number. I might have a way to find out, if I can reach a guy I used to know. But....your contacts might be better."
And then, he couldn't help a smirk. Yeah, definitely a lionness. "Yeah, DC sounds about right. We can scope it out, find a spot for you." More like she would do the scoping. Beyond the vague idea- mostly from TV and movies and such- of her need to find a spot where she clould lay out on a roof peering through a scope with some privacy, he really didn't know her process.
It wasn't like she spoke to him in detail about her missions. He was still a bit sqeamish about the rubber meeting the road, there. It was something he'd learned decades ago- why he'd never be a doctor or a nurse or even an emergency medical tech. He wasn't good at compartmentalizing things. He felt too much empathy to be able to focus on the task at hand.
Empathy was a wonderful thing. But when someone was bleeding out from a horrible wound, it wouldn't staunch the hemorrhaging. Good medical people were able to box away their feelings and focus on triaging and treating the situation.
He'd killed before, but it was in anger. And he felt no guilt over that. And when Hayden had died, he had begun drinking himself to death. He was mostly all in when it came to things. It was a limitation, to be sure. But he really didn't know what to do about it.
The flip side, of course, is why he was so good with people and with making friends. He had never been at a job or in a place where he didn't form friendships quickly.
It was a tradeoff, but one he was content with.
"What else?" He was sure they would be planning for a while. Planning was good.
It kept him from fantasizing about how he'd love to kill these fuckers who blew up their lives.