Acting Like A Professional

Goddamn

You used to think that it was so easy
You used to say that it was so easy
But you're trying, you're trying now

Mr. Pink had just found the trap door he was looking for. He had sealed up the door to this basement for hiding things in the wine cellar underneath, in the event he ever needed it, before he moved out of this house. And now, of course, he definitely needed it. Not only did some idiot pull the alarm and Mr. Blonde started shooting everyone in sight, but he knows heist had obviously been set up. He was just about to stow the diamonds then run off to the warehouse, when he noticed something move out of the corner of his eye. He whipped out his gun and pointed, prepared to shoot if need be. But then froze.

It's just a kid, maybe 14? Not even that. Shit, I don't want to shoot them. God damn, they look like a deer in the fucking headlights. Now what am I supposed to do, just let them go? Hell no, not if they know that I've been here! That'd be paving my path to the slammer! Even if I just leave, I can't take the diamonds, there's too much risk. A hostage situation wouldn't be smart, but it's the best I can manage for now...

Mela was frozen in fear, but her mind was screaming at herself for foolishly entering the basement. She didn't know what she was thinking, climbing inside. She studied the man's face, trying to keep herself calm by not thinking about the gun. He seemed almost scared, but mostly wild with panic and... regret, maybe?

He quickly jerked his weapon in the direction of a dusty old chair, directing her to go over to it. She slowly followed his wordless instruction, his gun following her the whole way. Mela may not have had the best grades, but she certainly had wits about her, and had some idea of what to do in this type of situation. He motioned for her to sit down, and after glancing apprehensively at the dry-rotting fabric of the chair, she complied, fearful that doing otherwise would have fatal consequences. He continued to point his gun with one hand while he tried to reach down and slide a suitcase into snug shelf beneath the trapdoor with the other, glancing over at her every few moments to make sure she wasn't trying anything. After a few awkward yet terrifying moments of him just shuffling around, he sighed and muttered several more swears. He turned to face Mela.

"Listen kid, I need both hands to stash these and I certainly can't do it if I gotta stay facing up this way to keep an eye on you, so I'm gonna need you to stay still and keep your fucking mouth shut, alright? I'm not gonna hesitate to shoot le- Oh shit, don't start crying, I- augh... Jesus Christ..." Before Pink was able to finish his spiel, Mela had begun  sniveling, since the tension was too much for her. Quickly these snivels dissolved into sobs, and she found it tough to control herself.

Another year and then you'd be happy
Just one more year then you'd be happy
But you're crying, you're crying now

This can not be happening right now. I don't have fucking time for this, and I certainly can't risk anyone hearing this bullshit.

After rolling his eyes in annoyance, he sets down the gun and takes a step toward her. His hands are out to show he doesn't have any more weapons, and her tears slow to silence. She looks him in the eyes, her hands shaking so badly that she drops the box of cigarettes. He slowly goes and picks it up off the ground, making sure she didn't stash a foldable knife or anything for self defense. Quietly, Pink checks the box, and upon finding it to be a full container of unused cigarettes, he looks at her suspiciously.

"What's a kid like you have these for?" He asked.

"It, uh... It calms my nerves." She replied, tripping over her words. He begins to slowly get back to the trap door, keeping one eye on her, in case she decides to run. The thought of escaping doesn't even cross her mind.

"Then what's a kid like you havin' nerves like that for?" He sent a follow up question, less interested in her personal life than hoping to keep her distracted. She's silent for a moment.

"...It's, well, really more than a long story. Why do you want to know, anyways?" She finally said.

"Oh, I've had it with smoking before too. Let's just say it's fucking hell when you're an adult, and I've got a morbid curiosity for what that's like being so young and all." He spoke automatically as he concealed the case. He really didn't care one way or another about this little girl's personal business. In reality, he needed to keep her busy while he thought about his next course of action, considering he had no idea where was safe now and where wasn't. Although it seemed like a flimsy excuse, Mela bought it. At this point she was desperate for someone to listen to her, and was ready to spill her entire life story.

"Well, I mean, I've just got a whole lot going on right now, you know? Along with normal teenager shit like idiot assholes at school, I've got a bunch of stuff going on at home too, like my parents for example, don't know how to do jack shit, yet expect me to bring home a perfect gradebook. Not to mention they finally dropped the bomb that we're apparently in major debt, and have been for just about my whole life. Of course that means all those big presents they got for my birthday or Christmas was just wasted cash. It's just not fuckin' practical to lay that all down on a kid. You're gonna give 'em a mental breakdown! I even have to fix the fucking hole my dad punched in the wall last week, which wouldn't have been there in the first place if he could've controlled his goddamn temper like an adult..." Mela continued to elaborate everything going on, seeming like she was gonna start crying again as she seethed with vitriol, and the more Pink heard, the more he fully listened to what she was saying.

This child, although maybe a little emotionally unbalanced, reminded him a lot of himself. Her mindset, logic, her way of speech when she joked or got angry. Not only that, but her life was pretty fucking shitty. Not any more awful than the normal hell of growing up, but like him, she seemed to have realized early on that society fucks us all. Sometimes Mela would have to stop talking because she had begun crying again, but she always calmed herself down quickly. Which was good, since he started to get a little paranoid all the sobbing would attract attention. After awhile, she asked him a question, which came as a surprise. But from her point of view, it was just the right thing to say.

"I, uh, I'm Mela, by the way. What's your name, dude?" She tacked the slang nickname onto the end of her question, trying, for some reason, to lighten the mood.