Black Swan | Ghost & König [I] ✓

chapter 17

The streets of Vienna were bustling with citizens and tourists alike, the streets filled to the brim with those of all nationalities and colors, dialects and personas. It was splendid, with sky-high gothic architecture and stained glass windows, stone-brick grounds garnished with red-brick trim; puddles and moisture lay untouched on the foundation, so clear you could see your reflection in the collections of water.

The hum of vehicles on busy roads was serene, and the streetlights were just beginning to come alit. Laughter and conversation were present, fear and war absent. They were not aware of the impending warfare, of the danger threatening to overcome the beautiful city.

People disappeared in and out of shop, restaurant, and bar doors alike, soft jingles and muffled music audible when the thresholds were opened. You caught sight of low, calming orange lighting from inside some of these establishments, and even the people inside them minding their own business, living their own lives, chatting about this and that, family, school, work...

You were very observant, but none of this was new to you. You assumed you had grown blind to it when you were an adolescent living here, a mere child abused by her peers and neglected by her parents. A child wound up in the concerns of her best friend, one that had it way worse than she ever would.

You sighed deeply out of your nose, cutting those thoughts away like spare threads. You witnessed two children stumbling playfully out of a toy shop, holding one, minuscule bag in their hand. There were no parents around them. You concluded that whatever was in that tiny little bag was all that they could afford. You thought of Kilgore. So much for cutting those thoughts away.

You still felt at peace though, serene. Though circumstances were not ideal at the moment, you felt relaxed back at your hometown. Even though you did not have the best experience at home, the city itself always welcomed you at night, when the velvety darkness enveloped the dank alleyways where you and Kilgore escaped the dread and gloom your home lives brought you.

Your slim hands cusped around a hot mug, the warmth radiating from the object soothing. Occasionally, you would sip it, relishing in the heat it brought to your insides. You were sitting at a café, wearing normal clothes, undercover. Of course, your weapons were under them.

The café was quaint, and quiet. College students sat around with textbooks and laptops, elderly folk sat alone or with their lovers drinking chamomile tea and eating key lime pie. Waiters and waitresses checked up on them often, but not too much to be a disruption.

Speaking of disruption...

"The longer we sit here, the less we'll get done," Ghost growled under his face mask. He wore a plain black mask that covered his mouth and nose, and sunglasses to shield his eyes. He wore a black beanie and a hoodie and some jeans. Pretty simple, though you weren't sure as to why he was so insistent on covering his face. Maybe you'd have to ask Kilgore his reasons for doing so. You quirked a brow.

"Why are you speaking to me?" you slurred, your French accent prominent as ever.

"Sorry, baguette, I was thinking out loud." He put the magazine he was reading about "home improvements" down on the table. You scoffed.

"Well, if we're on the topic of prejudiced jokes, maybe I should call up Philip Graves and see if he'd be willing to dump your bitchass tea in the ocean again."

"I thought it was a nonverbal agreement to never speak his name again?" Ghost scowled under his mask.

"Just because he ended up being a two-faced douchebag doesn't mean he was any less hot," you confessed. You didn't really think he was attractive. You were just trying to get on his nerves.