...Bug Scarlet and see if she's do anything fun.

“So, kids scare you, huh?”

“Shut up,” she snickers. “This is the least I could do for them… The least either of us could do for them.” She shoots you an accusative glare.

“Sorry,” you say, grabbing a cutting board and a knife to help her with the carrots she’s working on. “But, I didn’t think wasting my energy on kids as good as dead would be with it.”

“Careful with your words,” Scarlet warns, and you remember her abilities with a knife and much of the fight she put up when you were both punching each other silly after cutting ties with Alexandra. “You can’t find it in your heart to treat these kids with some respect?”

“No,” you start cutting but keep your voice leveled so she can’t detect how annoyed you are. “I want to get out of here as soon as possible so my conscience doesn’t start bugging me.”

Scarlet’s voice bubbles over with a laugh. “I didn’t think I’d be talking to you about cutting your emotions and whatnot— an argument over morals.”

“There are some things we can’t change, especially when we’re trapped under contract and a killer boss that’ll put bounties on heads that warrant every bounty hunter and contractor within a 500-mile radius.”

“We could take him,” she giggles, the mood shifting slightly. “Just do your best,” she ends with a scolding.

You look back at the room, spotting Alice staring at you. You grumble. “Alice would love to see me do my best to keep her entertained.”

“Yeah…She’s been eye-fucking you ever since you stepped in. Dumb kid. You know better, right?”

“Better than goofing off with a barely developed teen crushing over me?” You scoff. “Of course, I know better.”

Shooting a glance at Scarlet. Since she’s shed out of her winter clothes, you can easily see her DEVELOPED curves and matured outline. Some vague part of your mind spiraled into a place where you and Scarlet went down a path where you focused on each other in a less stressful environment. However, as time passes, her demeanor shifts, and her attitude changes.

She rolled her shoulders, her hands resting on the makeshift counter from the orange hue of the fire barrels. Even with her original blonde hair starting to bleed through the red, you only picture the girl you saw playing the guitar after your first night from the Alexandra incident. Maybe it’s the kids, or maybe it’s something else that’s triggering that fever dream of a memory. Whatever the case, you’re seeing Scarlet, who cannot physically show her age for one reason or another. It’s not as drastic as the other juveniles around you, but she isn’t that hard-life-lived contract veteran you’ve been working with for the last few months.

“What’s the plan?” you say, sensing the air going stale.

“We’ll probably eat. And then I’ll start talking to Angel to find out what we’re here for. Simple as that.”

“And if it’s not what we want to hear? Or is it something we agree with?”

“Contractors,” she reminds you but then picks up a confusing tone. “Doesn’t matter what we think.”

Unable to read her hinting, you blatantly ask what she means. “If Angel is going to make us trade these kids to some sex-animal, he’ll have to find someone else.”

“And Amara is…involved?”

“She wouldn’t make me— us do that. Unless you have a history of human trafficking?” She probes, now looking at you suspiciously. “I don’t think I missed anything when I reviewed your contract history.”

“Fear not,” you say. “I’ve just merely killed and mangled men. I like to keep my distance from such things. Draws in an unsavory type of clientele.”

“Good. Because not only if you did, I wouldn’t just have to kill you, but that would also mean I’d have to get my eyes checked. I pride myself in recruiting people with decent enough backgrounds.”

You figure she isn’t lying. Truth be told, you had dipped your toes in such contracts, but after your first “**** chase,” you felt dirty. It was off the record since it was from a political party based in Richmond. You weren’t going to mention that to Scarlet, however.

Scarlet pats her stomach after clapping her hands clean. “I think it just needs to sit now. What should we do? Angel still isn’t here.”

“They’re all minding their own business. Let’s leave them be.”

“You should play something for them,” Scarlet tries. “I haven’t heard you play yet.”

“I’ve heard you play,” you counter. “And sing. Why don’t you spoil them with a song and string?”

“I’ve done enough,” she suddenly seems cold.

“Relax,” you lean in. “I’d prefer listening to you than myself. Good memories.”

“Beating the shit out of each other and waking up despite that is a good memory?”

“I was thinking more about you. I know you like to play and whatever,” you’re about to mention her parents but opt out at the last moment. “What do you think?”

Hesitantly, she nods but then complains there is no guitar. You gingerly grab her shoulders and point her over to a corner where a six-string is. “It’s probably out of tune.”

“You’re more than capable of putting it in order.”

“Every time you praise one of my normal hobbies, I feel pressured to have you show me yours, you know? Trust me. I’m not that good.”

“I promise you you’re probably better than anyone else in this room,” you laugh. “Don’t be so humble, Scarlet. You’re capable!”

A sudden blush came over her cheeks, and she picked up the stringed instrument from the floor. As she predicted, she strums down to test all the strings at once. It’s horribly out of tune. With just that, however, she’s gathered a half circle of children, already curious about what she’s doing. Scarlet looks up and laughs uncharacteristically nervously. You looked up, too. The children’s heads bob up and down as they whisper to each other.

“Well, good luck.”

“Thanks,” she grumbles this time.

Scarlet pulls out a chair and drags it across the ground to the center of the quarters. She squares up and makes sure the chords are where they should be. “You guys like music?”

A few quiet responses come out shyly. She chases them. “You guys like songs?”

Another round of responses. This time, they’re louder. “Alright,” she strums idly, her eyes moving in front of her like she’s reading a sheet. Without playing anything, she clears her throat and begins…

“Maybe we’ll get 40 years together,” she starts slowly, her eyes fixed on the floor, recalling more of the song as she gathers it for untimely use. Her fingers are stationary, but she is steadily strumming. “One day, I’ll be gone. One day, you’ll be gone. "

And then she inhales, her fingers moving gently along the strings, strumming in rhythm, with purpose. Her head goes side-to-side as her knees bounce with the tones. “It’s not the long-flowing dress you're in or the lighting coming off your skin. The fragile heart you’ve protected for so long…

The mercy in you senses right or wrong…

It’s not your hand searching in the dark…

Or your nails leaving love’s watermark…

It’s not the way you talked me off the roof…

You’re questions like directions to the truth…”

Scarlet’s mouth curls slightly in a reminiscent smile as the song slows to a purposeful pause, and her eyes glide up to yours. She smile falters before she continues. “It’s knowing that this can’t go on forever…likely one of us will have to spend some time alone…maybe we will get 40 years together. One day, I’ll be gone. One day, you’ll be gone.”

“If we were vampires and **** was a joke,” Scarlet looks around the room as her fingers slide— some of the younger kids laugh at the mention of the mythical monster, but the older audience listens intently as the next part of her verse emerges. “We’d go out on the sidewalk and have a smoke~ laugh at the loves and their plans!”

“I wouldn’t feel the need to hold your hand…!

Maybe time running out is a gift…

I’ll work hard till the end of my shift…

I’ll give you every second I can find…Hoping it is me that’s left behind,” she smiles pitifully, avoiding all eye contact. You see her bottom lip quiver. “It’s knowing that this can’t go on forever…likely one of us will have to spend some time alone…maybe we will get 40 years together. One day, I’ll be gone. One day, you’ll be gone.”

She shuts her eyes as her fingers easily switch the few chords used for the song. Scarlet’s gone flush with embarrassment as a small side of her fragile emotion bleeds through the contractor's veil as she repeats the chorus. “It’s knowing that this can’t go on forever…

Likely, one of us will have to spend some time alone…

Maybe we will get 40 years together.

One day, I’ll be gone… One day, you’ll be gone.”

The room is silent. Scarlet is still. And then a whisper. You’re about to do something when Scarlet starts playing an upbeat tune, not singing. She does this for a few minutes but then announces that dinner is ready. She’s the first one up but lingers behind as all the children get up to get served from the slightly more mature part of their generation and go to get behind the hot plates to help the less able get their plates filled.