Vee | A-Z

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last edited on ZLT: 29.02.20



“I don’t like you.” She said, rifling through the drawers.

“I know, I’m not a nice guy.” The corner of his lips lifted.

“When will they be back?” She looked up, an added level of concern spreading on top of her buttery tone.

“No idea. Not anytime soon.” He said, unfolding his arms.

“Why did the agency partner you up with me?” She sighed. She pushed the drawer back in without care, and turned to pick open the locked cabinet door beneath the table with practiced ease.

“Want one?” He unwrapped a lollipop.

“Do you have coke flavour?” Her voice resounded from below, a little echo-y.

He searched his pockets, his lollipop in his mouth. “I took the last one.”

She popped her head out from underneath the mahogany, along with an outstretched hand. “Sharing is caring.”

“I’m very selfish.” He sniffed, rubbing his fingers together to warm it up. “You’re so slow.”

“Then help me.” A thump—she closed the cabinet door with a little more force than necessary.

“I didn’t bring my gloves.” He wiggled his bare fingers.

“Then at least think. Where would you put your key?” She crawled across the carpeted floor to look under the sofa.

He leaned back on the desk with a thump, raising his legs to prop it up against the window edge. “I would put it…” he paused, thinking hard, while linking his fingers beneath his head to lie comfortably on the paperwork-filled desk, “…in my ceiling.” He finished, looking up at a protruding bump just beside from where the chandelier hung.

She stopped, and peered up.

A beat of silence crept past them before the two of them leapt into action. He rolled off the table, dragging the nearest chair to under where the chandelier hung. She got up and patted her hands of dust, then ran towards his raised knee. With the momentum on her side, she boosted herself up his leg, twisting to sit comfortably around his shoulders, her hand grasping his hair and pulled at it tightly in a pathetic attempt to get some revenge and to balance herself on his broad shoulder.

She looked up. The crystal shards hanging from the chandelier dangled teasingly in her face, but her hands were still far from the ceiling.

“Why are you so short?” She complained.

“It’s your arm that’s short.” He pushed off the chair, from his kneeling position, to stand up.

He heard an orchestra of noisy jangling from above. “Done?” He twirled the small lollipop in his mouth. It was almost finishing.

“No.” She stretched her hands to the max, her fingertips barely brushing the ceiling. “Who the heck designed this house, what’s the use of such high ceilings?” She tsk-ed, annoyed.

“To prevent people like us from stealing their keys.” He replied, very amused with his own answer. He unbuckled her shoes and threw it up at her. “Catch.”

She grabbed it, using it as some sort of a javelin, and launched it at the bump.

Her heel stabbed the plaster like a knife cutting into jelly, and it shattered pathetically, and dropped. “They’ve got a nice and friendly security though. To your left.” She clenched her thighs around his neck, like clamping on the hide of a horse to move it.

His hand shot out just in time to grab the falling flash of silver with his handkerchief. She bent forward to pull his lollipop out of his mouth, only to realize she was left with an empty stick. With a sound of irate, she stabbed it back into his mouth and pushed off his shoulder.

Graceful as a leopard, she leapt off, landing with a bare whisper, then stalked off. He laughed, chewing on his lollipop stick. He dialed for the agency, following her out, not forgetting to pick up her abandoned pink heels.

He tucked their mission item in his pocket, adjusting his suit smartly. With his phone between his shoulder and ear, he pulled his gloves on.

She stopped to glare at his gloves. “You lied.”

“Indeed.” He agreed cheerfully, passing her her heels.

The door slammed behind them as the two slinked off the front porch without sparing a thought about camouflage.

The dialing broke off after several rings with a faint ‘hello’ from the other side of the call.

He spoke into the phone: “We got the key.” Leaving no evidence of their visit save for the shattered plaster and an obviously raided house, the two strolled into the shadows, their silhouettes merging together with the darkness of the night.





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