Vicious Trust

Miss Arrogant

I stomp out the door, ears pinned, tail alert, a balloon about to pop, ready to throw my dagger at the nearest target, all while tugging on my gloves.
"Hon, what did you do?" A voice asks.
I swing around and throw my dagger before I can think. The sound of metal hitting metal rings around the room, gray as Elias's office.
"Really? Hon, control yourself." A face appears in the gloom. "I know you're angry, but that was overkill."
I groan. "Tiffany, why bother me?"
She sheaths her sword and walks over to me. "I'm sorry Hon, did boss get angry?"
"Don't call me that," I snap.
"Fine, Mar."
I roll my eyes and sigh. No use arguing with Tiffany. "So, where's Dominic? I know you never leave home without your twin lovebird."
Ignoring my question, Tiffany takes out a small handheld mirror and red lipstick, and starts applying it. "He ain't gonna make it to next week, is he?"
"Maybe not."
"I know you don't care, but I just want you to know, that it's okay with me. I've never liked him much anyways." Pursing her lips, Tiffany growls, "a thug." She pronounces the word with extreme distaste, like some schoolboy is misbehaving while she's teaching.
         "Aren't we technically thugs," I wonder.
         "We're not thugs!" Tiffany states. "We're not violent!"
         I look at her.
         "Well, I think the term thug is used for boys." Tiffany says. "I'd say a vandal, spy, hitman. Not a thug." She shakes her head. "Disgusting."
"So Dominic's a thug." I reason, smirking slightly.
Tiffany just shrugs. "Anyway, are you going to do the job for him? Ya know, you should be five hundred richer.
"I don't want your sympathy!" I snarl. Tiffany's whole personality plus appearance has always made me roll my eyes and want to hit her. Her sassy attitude, royal fuchsia colored hair pushed back into a slick ponytail, red lips, bright green crop top, hot pink skinny jeans, nails painted fuchsia, thick open-toed gold heels, and big gold hoop earrings. The only safe thing on her to look at is the only place I definitely don't want to look. Her dark olive-green eyes. Her appearance is eye torture, and she's awful.
"Okay, okay. Feisty, aren't you?" She smiles, revealing blinding pearly whites.
"Look," I say. "Can you tell boss that I'll do the job, but a warning too; if he doesn't pay me after I do this, he's as good as dead."
"Apology?" Tiffany asks.
"What?"
"An apology, please." Tiffany prompts.
I scowl. "Fine. Can you tell boss that I'll do the job, plus the warning." I turn to leave. "Oh, and I'm sorry for almost killing you." I can't see her, but I know she has a smirk on her face, and oh, how with one throw of a dagger could I wipe that smile off her face.
I turn to my wristwatch. Our communication system. It's supposed to have us on only one messaging system, but somebody hacked it, so now there's one with just spies. I type my message, snapping my fingers as I work.
          Once I finish, I jump out the exit... which is a window. Because we're supposed to be secretive and all, boss barred the door, just in case some ghost hunting fanatic came along, searching this vacant and creepy run-down hotel.
I climb down the fire escape, brushing brownish blond hair out of my eyes. The moon hangs high in the sky, bathing the town in a silvery glow. "I won't ever have to deal with him again, not after this." I whisper to myself. "Everything's fine." I climb down the rest of the way and head out to find a place to spend the night and plan.