Track Ops: 'Reflection'

"No more questions. At least, not for now. We'll finish after some breakfast in the morning."

Marce didn't bother to wait for her to answer, for he knew that nothing but some smart ass comment was going to come out. So, instead, he grabbed both the notebook and the tablet, tucking the two items under his arm while standing over Ace. She still didn't care to hold eye contact with him and it was too late for Marce to argue that. She did whatever she wanted while he did whatever he wanted. It was his house, at that. He was gracious enough to let her stay there for the time being. However, he knew he'd eventually have to go back to work and boy was he going to have eyes on him when he walked into that building and passed the grey and navy blue suits.

"Follow me. You can sleep in my room. The guest room is still being painted and I won't have you sleeping on a couch." He lead her through the house, turning on the hallway light as he passed through so that he would have some sort of light when he came back the same way. He looked behind him once to make sure Ace was okay...as if something horrible could've happened to her in the short time of leading her to the room. Marce was really riding the paranoid train that night.

"I'll wake you up when the food is done. If you do wake up, don't leave the room. There is a bathroom already in there at your disposal. Don't argue, it's just precautions." He held the door open for her, flipping the light switch on and standing in the frame of the door way, waiting for her to walk in and do her necessary preparations for bed. He didn't have a fear that she would escape. He was just...looking out for her in the safe confines of his home. Yeah, he was losing it.

"Sleep well."
 
Ace was stunned. Marce didn't argue or call her a liar or even retort to her taking so long to lead them to the correct spot. All he did was accept it with no response at all and say that he wasn't asking any more questions until after breakfast. She blinked and stood up uncertainly, picking up her bag and slinging it over her shoulder after closing it up again.


"Okay."


She followed him quietly to the room and stepped in as he flicked on the light, looking around before setting her bag on the dresser. Since she hadn't had the foresight to pack pajamas in her hurry to abandon her apartment, she would just half strip once Marce left and dress before she saw him in the morning.


"This is really nice. You didn't have to put me up in here, I would have been just as comfortable on the couch without kicking you out of your own bed," she said, sitting on the side of the bed and glancing over at him.


"Thank you.. Goodnight."
 
[DASH=white]I don't want to believe her.

I really don't want to believe any of the shit she's already told me about the other missing girls, but I'd just be stupid if I didn't. It's right there in front of my facing, laying there for no reason. She held the key to everything that BAD want to accomplish. It's hard to think that Kelly wasn't the only one. That there are 47 Kelly's out there...some who had been missing for fucking years and I have to be the one to burden them all with it. It would've mad my life a lot easier if they had just killed her when we were in that water, but no. i had to go all James Bond and save her.

What do I do now? She's asleep in my bed waiting for me to wake her up in the morning. I have to make her breakfast like I damned mother. I am taking care of the enemy. Bob is going to get a kick out of this. The whole BAD is going to love finding that I am harboring fugitives in my bedroom. I hate that she's so damn...beautiful.

Beauty can be the sharpest blade.

-Marce
Spec Ops #14
July 20th, 2002​
[/DASH]

Marce put his book down beside the nightstand, wrapping both of his hands behind the back of his head. His eyes hit the ceiling ahead of him in the dim light of his table lamp. There was no sounds but the drain pipes of the kitchen sink and the outside chatter of the insects. Marce never had this hard of a time falling asleep on his own will, but then again, he had been put through more stress tonight than any other he had known. Not even when he lost his ex lover to a pro-wrestler, of all occupations. His face fell in disgust at the memory, clearly not the best train of thought to be riding.

A cricket interrupted his thoughts, forcing him to shake his head free of the wondering. When he did so, his eyes caught the faint gleam of the kitchen sink, two plates sparkling in the sliver of moon light that escaped from the window above it. Two plates were a new for him. It was usually one. Marce was brought back to when he found Ace lying sprawled at the bottom of the staircase. She was Reflection then, and now...who was she? Grace? Ace? His alibi in the fight against the Merenzos? He crooked his neck up to peer down at the dark hallway knowing that Ace lay soundly asleep in his bed. Another woman had successfully booted him from his own bed and onto the couch.

Marce laughed to himself, burring his stubbled cheek into the pillow before the hum of the kitchen sink did away with him.
 
Once Marce was gone and had shut the door, Ace stood up and stretched. All of that sitting around and talking made her want to go run laps or something - which was odd, considering her hobby used to be sitting in front of computer screens all day with nothing else to do. She sighed and pulled off her shirt and bra, setting them in a neat pile on the floor and pulling on a long tank top that went down to a few inches below her hips. Satisfied, she wiggled her way out of her jeans and added those to the pile, along with her socks and shoes. A long shirt and panties. Ah, bliss. She pulled the elastic out of her hair and let the wild curls tumble free. Now she was ready for bed.. she just wasn't ready to sleep.


She frowned and climbed back up on the bed after flicking off the light. It was comfortable, but she was warm and kicked away the blankets before settling with just the sheet. She yawned and laid back on the pillows, staring at the window as the faint glow of streetlights lit the bottom inch of it. It reminded her of her own apartment, which didn't even exist anymore. She thought of everything that had happened, recalled the pain of being shot and the horrified shock at her savior being somebody who actually knew who she was. Marce wasn't what she expected, but it still wasn't a dream working with him.


At least he was a fantastic piece of eye candy..


Shaking her head, she put her hands over her eyes and groaned softly to herself. Why was she thinking about how attractive a man was when he was probably out there thinking about how many ways he could injure her before she died? She must be an even worse masochist than she thought. Rolling onto her side, she kicked the sheet off and sighed. No point keeping it on anyway. She was hot and Marce wouldn't come in here. Plus, she'd probably be up earlier than he was and be showered by the time he dragged his ass out of bed.


That was the last thought she had before she drifted off to sleep with a smile.
 
It wasn't the worst sleep in history, but it sure as hell wasn't the best.

First, it was a bird. An innocent, beautiful, normal Georgian bird perched right beside the living room window sill. Maybe it found the glass fascinating. Maybe it perched there to take a break from all the flying around it had done earlier that morning. Maybe it was just to annoy the shit out of him. Whatever the case was, the bird decided to serenade Marce at 6:44 in the morning with the longest symphony of the ages. It tweeted, sang, chattered, and did every other sound effect that could have come out of a bird's beak. It was amplified when coming through the pane, seeping into Marce's ears and crashing around it's drums. He groaned in annoyance, turning over with both legs bent on the couch. His muscles screamed out at the torturous sleep he endured the hours before. Now that he had made a legitimate movement, he was awake and could not hope to return to his slumber.

He imagined the sound of glass breaking when he pulled back his lids to reveal the dilating, aquamarine pools of his eyes. The bird continued to sing away, even louder than before as if it had just realized that Marce was awoken. He blinked a moment or two more, still not tempted enough to move from the little comfort he did have that entire morning. Still, chirping aside, he knew he had a woman in his bed waiting for him to wake her up. Marce forced out a yawn and a sigh at the same time before swinging both legs from the couch. The right side of his hair had become matted down by the throw pillow he had slept on. His fingers ruffed through the patch, returning it to its dark brown, tousled look.

The bird quieted down enough for Marce to register the silence in his house; a silence that meant that Ace had not awaken yet. Good. He felt much better knowing that she was not traipsing around his house, messing with things her hands had no business being on. Marce's knees cracked before he rolled his neck, cracking the lodged joints there overnight. There was a couple of satisfying pops until he made his way down the newly lit hallway. He mulled over whether to knock on the door first or not, but his room, his rules. Still succumbing to a bit of mannerly weakness, he wrapped his knuckles on the door before pushing it back, sticking the left half of his body inwards.

"You up?" he spoke in the softest tone he could muster from his throat. He was hit with an...unexpected sight. There she lay: slender, stationary, slightly curled against the pearl sheets and forest green covers of his bed. Her brown curls had mingled in with the brilliant greens of the spread, blending in perfection. Her long shirt stopped just by the base of her thigh, revealing more skin that he wanted to see.

Though on other circumstances...

Marce forced the thought out, wrapping his knuckles against the door harder, as if she were the reason he was having such a hard time thinking straight.

"Ace. Get up." he ordered.
 
"I'm not ready yet. Take Jo-Anne out first."


Ace's sleepy murmur was all that came from Marce ordering her out of bed - at least at first. She was still deep in her dreams, with reality slowly interrupting the setting in random bits and pieces. In her mind, she was still sprawled on a cot in a dark basement with blacked out windows that the sun could never hope to penetrate. She was speaking to a man that she hadn't seen in years, while she hurriedly packed a bag. As the man changed to Marce and she outwardly opened her eyes, light penetrated the basement and the rest of it all fell away while reality shattered the images. She blinked a few times and sat up, rubbing her eyes before looking up at Marce and realizing that he was waiting for her to get out of bed.


"Oh, good morning. I'm going to take a quick shower before we get down to the single light over a metal chair interrogation, if that's okay?" she said, sliding off the bed so that she could stretch more effectively. It was a very comfortable bed, but she wasn't used to such a soft mattress so the 'sinking in' sensation had caused some minor aches. The rush of blood to her sleeping muscles was invigorating and she sighed contentedly.


She wandered toward the bathroom, assuming he'd say yes or just leave her to it.
 
"Really? That attitude this early in the morning?" That was the only thing he was going to say because if he would've went any further, she would have continued the debate. Marce had already had a rough 5 minutes in the morning, he didn't want to humor the thought of her sitting in an interrogation room. Besides, he wasn't scheduled to see Bob until much later int he afternoon. Bryson swung him a call in the mid-morning, telling him that he and Alex were heading to a hotel in Georgia. That little information was basically a silent code for saying Bob had called and ordered for a meeting. Marce was too sleepy and groggy to ask Byrson whether to bring Ace or not. He just assumed he would. He smiled at Ace, well, more like smirked at her as he waved his hand as if to display the shower.

"Take your time." he noted, remembering the disgusting stench of the river water being washed off of him while he were in the hospital. He would have to soon take one himself, but, ladies first of course. He figured she would take hours upon hours in the bathroom, which is why he offered the breakfast thing. By the time he got done cooking, she should be ready to dry her great mass of hair. He didn't have any of the lovely, dainty shampoo products that she may have carried in her apartment, but his Head and Shoulders would have to suffice. Marce stood and watched her make her way to the bathroom, swinging her hips in the same fashion she had last night. His lips pulled into a forced, tight line before nodding and stepping out from the door frame.

With the door closed, Marce could let out the breath he had been holding for about 20 seconds or so, part of it coming out as a large sigh. For the millionth time in the span of two days, Marce wiped his face with his full hand, blinking a couple of times afterwards. he was just having one hell of a week, that was all. Content with that somber truth, he trudged through the hallway again, shoes still on from last night leaving imprints in the carpet. One glance to his left told that the bird had vanished. Lovely. He looked to his right at the kitchen, debating on whether to just...take the lady out to eat. Or was the information to valuable to be hushed outside those walls?
 
Ace turned and stuck her tongue out at Marce as she reached the bathroom doorway, but he had already gone. She shook her head to herself with a smile and went in, shutting the door behind her and locking it yet again out of habit. Stripping off what little clothes she wore, she turned the shower on to a scalding heat and stood back to wait a few moments. Once it was steaming, she hopped in and closed her eyes.


The water relaxed her and she simply stood there for a few minutes until she was completely drenched. Opening her eyes, she looked around and found Marce's shampoo. She scrubbed a dollop in her hair until it was all foamy, then rinsed it out and worked on soaping up her body. All in all, it was a quick shower, and she was stepping out in less than ten minutes. She wrapped a towel around herself and walked out into the bedroom, picking up her bag and hauling it back into the bathroom with her since she had forgotten it in the first place.


She brushed out her hair and pulled it up into a bun, tucking in the ends to get rid of the scraggly look. Applying only minimal eye makeup and a brush of lipgloss after brushing her teeth, she figured that going all out for a day of sitting around and being glared at was a stupid idea. She chose a plain set of undergarments, then tugged on a pair of black shorts and a dark purple tank. Finished, she wandered out and made the bed, then walked out of the bedroom.


"Your turn, if you want it."
 
Marce watched Ace emerged from the hallway clean, fresh, and brand new. She had on a decent change of clothes, something suddle and not too decent. She was just a normal woman in a normal house with a normal house, wasn't she? As long as that was the appeal she was giving off, it was okay with him. That was the look he wanted her to go for. He didn't need everyone and their great-grandmothers staring at her like she was some kind of criminal, even though she kind of was. In his eyes, she was wearing a tangerine orange jumpsuit with deep, dark, shadowed mascara that had blotched here and there around her eyes, face white without the help of skin tone foundation. He rather liked the look on her. The bun could of left, though. He was more of a free, down person himself. If push came to shove, he'd just take it out himself.

Realizing he was thinking down different roads he swore to block off, Marce gave her the smallest of nods. The conversation was short, willow, and not very bright, but it was the most the two could deal with at the moment. The Merenzo and kidnappings would have to wait. It was damn too early for that.

"...Thank you." he told her, motioning towards the couch before turning his body to face her fully. The sunlight played through the blinds of the window behind her, almost as if she were being dazzled with strobe lights. "I'm not in the mood for cooking, but driving I can do. We'll grab something to eat before stopping at the office. I need to grab something." Marce left out any important details that he was positive she would just maul over. Actually, with the way she was acting then, she may have just brushed it off as if she didn't care. Marce, walking straight to the bathroom without the slightest look back at Ace, decided to save the ensuing argument for later: he just wanted to shower.
 
"Okay."


Even though she agreed with a single word and made no other sound as he walked off to shower, Ace was far from silent in her own mind. She wondered why he had to grab something from the office with her along for the ride, immediately thinking awful and suspicious things about whether or not he'd turn her in. They hadn't even finished the questions, but maybe instead of breakfast he was just going to interrogate her some more before throwing her to the metaphorical sharks. It seriously wouldn't surprise her. What did surprise her was that the thought pained her. She wanted Marce to know everything and to believe that she wasn't a terrible person, but why was she even bothering to try?


You've always been an idiot, Ace, she thought to herself. She could feel herself shutting down as she sat there and just waited for Marce like a good little girl instead of wandering around and peeking through his apartment with an abundance of curiosity like she normally would have done. The game was up, why was she still playing as if she could win? It was only right that he'd give her up, she realized. She had played with the wrong people and gotten caught. The good ol' American government at work.


Why did she ever trust them?


[Got distracted by neighbors and couldn't sleep, but now I really am off to bed, promise! -flees-]

 
Not the response he figured she would give him, but he wasn't complaining. A few minutes or two of her being quiet and somber were well needed and highly praised. He gave her a long, hard look; one that she did not return. She was purposefully keeping her eyes off of him for a reason. A reason he would find out sooner or later, whether she liked it or not. He had a really easy time looking at people, reading them by nothing but their body gestures and facial expressions. Typically all humans could do that, but one would call Marce and expert at the art. He didn't bother responding to her half-bit acceptance of going out to get something to eat, and, instead, nodded his head towards the front door. She already had her clothes and shoes on...he doubted she kept money on her.

He remained silent while the two of them marched out of the door and to Alex's Crown Vic. He didn't want to tell her that the thing at the office he was supposed to get was his actual car, returning Alex to her rightful vehicle. He'd much rather see if she squirmed under the paranoia of being brought face first in front of the government. So far she had yielded not even the slightest stutter from her pink lips. No dice, No matter. Maybe a conversation of dead female carcasses over a hot plate of waffles would do the trick.

The hell am I thinking?, Marce asked himself when he passed over the passenger side of the door, being too gentleman-like for his own good by opening the door for her. He was not usually that sinister in his thoughts and plans especailly when he had a burden as big as the one he carried with him now. Figuratively speaking, there was a weight on his chest that he heaved into the car, cranking the engine and hearing the satisfying hum in the later seconds. yet again, he was leaving his home. Yet again, he was going out of his comfort zone to do something for somebody who he despised, though he used the word very heavily. In truth, he didn't hate the woman. He just wasn't so....trusting.

"AC?"he asked, looking behind him as he reversed from the driveway with ease, wheeling off onto the main road without even the slightest back-glances towards his house.
 
Ace hadn't budged an inch or even talked to herself while Marce was in the shower. Her focus was mostly inward, but there were windows to gaze out of as well while she waited. After what seemed like an eternity, he came out, all fresh and ready to go. She stood and followed him out the door after tugging socks and shoes on and grabbing a light sweater just in case. It was probably going to end up raining later, knowing her luck.


Marce's gesture with opening the door was unexpected and a little suspicious but she just nodded in thanks and slid in. As she buckled, he got in and started the car and they started leaving. It was odd how they hadn't spoken since he got out of the shower, but she found that she didn't mind. When he did speak up about the air conditioner, she just gave him a slight shrug. It wasn't her car, after all, and why did he suddenly care about her opinion? She was starting to reach a point in her thoughts where she was questioning why she was still here.


"Doesn't matter to me either way," she said quietly as they reached the main road and started driving along. She had no idea where he wanted to go for breakfast or even if they'd really eat before going to his lovely office. Surprises, surprises.


"You drive like a little old lady."
 
"....Alright then." he commented while twisting the gray dial to the air all the way to the left, trailing the white marker on the dial onto the dark blue section above it. Not done proving his point and impending her torture, he turned the next dial to the number 5, the highest power of the Vic's vent. Cold air didn't rush out at first. It was still in mid fall and cars such as that one took a long time to heat/cool up before adjusting to the preferred temperature. So, for the time being, Marce lounged back into his throne in the driver's seat, waiting for the cold to meet them both. Her comment made him smile; legit that time, not forced.

"This isn't my car. I handle things that don't belong to me with the utmost care, especially things that belong to the BAD. Working there or not. I can still get my ass kicked if I scratched a line of paint on this car." Alex took her car very seriously, even more serious than men usually did. They say a man is 2 times what his car is, which is supposedly why they have to have the best ones to compensate for how great the pair was. Marce Jove thought it was a load of bullshit, but that didn't mean he couldn't have nice things. Like Alex, he was different in his desire for a car. Speed and style would be nice. Alex wanted everything she could get and more in her car note. If she could drive a robot he would bet it would have hydrolichs.

"And I've chased an old woman for road rage once. Shot a guy point blink with a double barrel at a traffic light, just for tailgating. I'm not feeling very violent right now. Give me an hour or two." He wasn't going to give her any reassurance on whether that was a joke or not because, quite frankly, he had no idea. It could have been but then again, he was with his enemy. Some strings could be pulled here and there.

The car took a left turn onto Burmeese Street, the main street in the east side of Decator. It had a string of fast food restaurants, a hotel or two, a crap load of junk yards, and some other things he didn't bother to pay attention to. The Georgian BAD office would take 45 minute drive to get to, breakfast not included. He was going to ask her where she wanted to eat, but his conscious told him to stay out of that fight, warning him that she was just angry because she may have been on her cycle. Whatever the case, he was the driver so he called the shots.

"Any idea where you want to eat?" Son of a bitch, he cursed himself.
 
"So, basically, you're telling me that if I decide I don't like you anymore I should just key the car and watch what happens to you?" Ace quipped, in more of a mutter than a joking tone. She cocked an eyebrow and glanced at him when he told the story about the old woman, wondering if it was true or not. Granted, she had seen some very pissed off old ladies in her lifetime. One in particular.


Frowning slightly at the thought, she wondered just how violent Marce could feel. For some reason the majority of the American population seemed to work under the thought that the angriest you could be at a person was when you killed them. The utmost show of violence, and apparently the degree varied by the method. Strangulation was 'super violence' and using a gun was just 'regular'. But Ace knew the truth. If you really wanted to rage and get that revenge, you didn't kill a person straight out. Oh no. That was too good for them. So, she tried to judge how violent Marce would get. He struck her as a shoot-'em-and-get-it-over-with type of guy.. Once he had the information he wanted.


"McDonald's," she said after a few silent minutes, probably seeming to pick a place at random as they went down the street, but she did have her reasons. If he asked or resisted, she'd just tell him that she didn't care and to pick a place instead of asking her opinion if he wasn't going to listen.


Old woman drivers.. Pft..
 
"Of all the places on this strip, you want to go to...Of course, Grace. Let's go get a fabulous breakfast at McDonalds."

Saying her first name had some power to it, like he could just control her at the blink of an eye. It was a very funny and paradox type of name, almost like naming a rabid pit bull 'Angel.' He hadn't said it at all until that very moment while he was yielding to oncoming traffic, trying to make aright turn into the restaurant. It wasn't just the fact that she said it so late that he almost flipped the car over trying to make it into the lane. It was that she wanted McDonald's out of all things. Marce shot her a blue glare when she said it, trying to make sure she wasn't moping or being depressed.

She was being both.

Oh, you've got to be kidding me, he swore to himself, swallowing back a couple of external curse words before a blue Sudan finally passed by, allowing him to take the turn into the McDonald's parking lot. There were quite a few cars there considering that it was 7:21 in the morning. A growl came from his stomach and just in time, too. He parked the Crown Vic a good ways away from the other cars in the lot. He was serious about not scratching a detail on that car. Marce licked his lips when he turned the car off. The silence that ensued was deafening, so much to the point where the two of them were able to hear a woman screaming at the drive-thru. Marce touched his bottom lip before looking over to Ace who had been silent the entire time.

"We eat for an hour. No less. The office doesn't open until 8:30 anyway." He caught her eyes for a moment too long, and before he could bite his own tongue, he could already hear his voice in his ears. "I'll take care of you."
 
Ace had to hold back a reflex to snap at Marce when he used her 'full' name instead of the nickname that she had come to live by. It was sorely tempting to just reach over and smack him since they were stopped and waiting for traffic anyway. She settled for just glaring at him viciously when he wasn't looking for a few moments, then looking away. Damn prick, putting emphasis on the one thing that he knew she didn't want him to say. Why had she even told him? At least he didn't know her full name yet. She wouldn't have kept herself from hitting him if he used that.


As they pulled into the parking lot, she twisted slightly in her seat and unbuckled a second before they had really parked. The faint click came just before the engine cut, meaning that there was no sound coming from her other than her own breathing as they just sat there at first. She glanced out his window as she heard the screaming woman, then looked at Marce when he looked at her. It was a mistake, to actually look at him like that, but all he said was about the office. She looked away, but then he spoke again and she looked back to him with a startled expression.


'I'll take care of you'? What was that supposed to mean? His tone and expression made it less like the threat it could have been and more like.. reassurance. It almost made her think that the whole going to his work thing was going to be okay and that he wasn't going to let them kill her. Almost. Until she remembered that she was sitting next to Marce Jove, who knew who she was, and he was escorting her to a government office after brushing it off as an unimportant errand. Still, there was that little part of her that wanted to believe him..


"Do you promise?"
 
"AND CAN I HAVE EXTRA TARTAR SAUCE ON THAT FILET, PLEASE MAM?"

Marce's current thoughts were instantly shattered by the gritty, Southern accent of the woman screaming from the open window of her Corolla. He crash landed back to reality, looking dead at Ace who had asked him a question, one he did not know the answer to. He dug his own grave with that one, speaking without really thinking about what he was saying. Sure, he wasn't going to let the woman die or anything but he didn't specify what he mean by protect. One thing was for certain, as many people would try to get their hands on her and the information she carried with her, but Marce intended to keep that as confidential as he could make it. So, in all honesty, he had no answer to her question.

So, he didn't answer.

Instead, he opened his door, slamming it calmly before pressing the lock button on the keys as well once Ace was out of the car. Time shouldn't have been wasted with them staring at each other, listening to the sound of one another's breathing in a hot Vic with no AC on. He'd much rather have an unanswered question and a McGriddle. Sunlight pelted down upon his head, turning his hair from its usual black to a chocolate brown instead. The heat was not as strong as the light, that was for certain. He quite enjoyed the heat. It sure did beat being in that blizzard just days before. Marce would have taken being hot over cold any moment of the day. For some reason unknown to him, when he thought of the word hot, his eyes flicked to Ace and the way she walked, like she owned the asphalt.

"Must you do that with your hips?"he growled, verbally challenging her to answer, but still unable to keep his eyes away until he was forced to open the door for her, motioning her inside. Hopefully, through the doors of the public place, she'd bite her tongue and act civilized.

And then I would sprout horns and breathe fire.
 
Ace didn't say a single word as Marce got out, instead opening up her own door and shuttig it more quietly than he had. There was no point in saying anything. He hadn't replied and that was as good as a 'fuck no'. Why he had bothered to say anything about it in the first place was beyond her, but now she felt as though she had opened herself up and he let something painful inside. She trailed after him to the door, lost in thought until he snapped at her. Confused by whatever he was talking about, she stepped inside and waited for him to come in too until she bothered to respond.


"Do what, exactly? Walk? I didn't know that you intended to carry me around like an invalid, Marce. Sorry to inconvenience you by assuming otherwise," she muttered at him, keeping quiet since there were kids around. She got in line with him and scanned the menu, inwardly sighing.


"Hotcakes are fine. I'll eat anything. I'll be back," she said after a moment, pressing a ten dollar bill into his hand before wandering off to the restroom.


She sat on the edge of a sink in the deserted bathroom, half turned to stare at her reflection. Okay, so what? The fact that Marce was being a confusing asshole shouldn't matter. He was nothing but an agent for an organization that she didn't care for, but had helped. So why was she upset? She frowned at herself and pulled her hair out of the bun, running her hands through it a few times in an anxious gesture before putting it back up. Okay. Deep breaths. Just a little while longer and then it'd be jail or a bullet to the head.


Piece of cake.


She washed her hands out of habit before walking back out, joining Marce at the table he had chosen since she had taken so long in the bathroom that he already ordered and got everything. Sliding into her seat, she didn't even look up at him before accepting whatever he had chosen for her. No point in saying anything and arguing more - or, worse, getting more silence in return to questions.
 
Marce looked down at the crumpled 10 his hand and almost laughed aloud. She was pulling out all of the cards on this one, knowing good and well that he planned on purchasing the breakfast himself. Ace was apparently obsessed with making him look like less of a man than he actually was. Well, she didn't know about all of the hours he would spend at the gym, keeping every muscle of his body in shape for anything he needed done. Every muscle. She didn't know about how he swore on his life to protect anyone who asked it of him. Marce couldn't look at someone in the face when they called to him for help and just...sit there. Even when Ace was in that water, she hadn't called to him for help, but she did answer his question.

She also must have not known that he had more money than she took for granted.

Marce payed for the meal, carrying the tray to the table after giving a thanks to the lady behind the counter. She had blonde hair pulled into a ponytail, wrapped by the bold, black McDonald's hat. She eyed his every movement as he ordered the food, from digging into his pocket for his wallet, ruffling his fingers through his hair, and licking his lips before speaking. Poor dove didn't even know he saw everything. Sad. He placed the tray on the table, sliding in the tiny booth to take his seat. He could practically feel the heat radiating off of Ace as she made her way back to the table, sitting and taking her food without a word. Marce couldn't help but to pull a smile from his lips, setting the 10 on top of her hash brown.

"I don't suppose you want to talk to me. That's fine. There's something I have to tell you."he said, fingering his straw nonchalantly before taking a sip of coke, exhaling at the crisp taste of it. He paused, bringing his eyes from down to his cup to her eyes. "You need to sleep with me."
 
Blinking as Marce gave her the cash back, she glanced up at him before putting it back in her pocket. Honestly, the reason that she had offered it to him was not to make him look bad. If she had wanted to do that she would have started screaming that he kidnapped her while they were standing in line. No, she had just thought that since he was putting up with her and had fed her from home last night, he deserved a bit of a financial break.

Plus, she didn't want to assume he was going to pay for her since this wasn't exactly a date.


She cut up her hotcakes and had just started to eat when he started talking. Nodding absently, she barely paid attention. Something to tell her, fantastic. What would it be? Oh, by the way, this is your last meal. Enjoy? Or maybe it'd be something more like, I'm handing you over to the government after this. She mentally shrugged and just waited, taking another bite right before he announced that she needed to sleep with him.


Thankfully the fact that she was blushing like an idiot was covered by the fact that she started coughing and half choking on pancakes, which gave her an excuse to be flushed.


"Excuse me?!" she managed, staring at him blankly once she recovered.
 
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