Mech Pilot who is surprised with how flattered they are. I mean, I beat you and you sent an assassin after me? Do you really think about me that often? Can we meet outside of work?
Her booth cloaked in the deepest shadows, tucked away in the furthest corner of the dingy little diner full of disinterested patrons all minding their own business – precisely the reason she'd picked the place for this rather shameful transaction the first time – she fidgeted as she stared at the briefcase full of money – and the letter resting on top of it.
Her assassin, the enigma known as Lone Wolf, rumoured to be one of the best in the business, demanding a second meeting out of the blue, had sported a black eye and a noticeable limp when he'd returned his fee, citing incomplete and missing vital information about the target as his reason for why he couldn't do the job after all. With apologies. And a message from said target.
The letter drew her eye again. Magnetic. Inevitable. It looked so innocuous, but she knew it was a viper, ready to strike at her heart. Delaying any further, however, wouldn't help. Her trembling thumb broke the wax seal – who even did that, in this day and age? – and she straightened out the crisply folded, typewritten page.
Dearest Jackhammer Josephine,
I hope this letter finds you well.
Wow your name really is a mouthful.
Can I call you Jackie? I'm going to call you Jackie.
Don't be too hard on your guy, if he's still there. He really tried to keep his employer secret, but people love telling me things. It's a gift.
I don't really know what to say. I'm touched. You got me a hitman? Nobody's ever gotten me a hitman before! People have tried to kill me, yes, on the pitch and off it, but nobody's ever gone to the trouble of actually hiring a professional to do the job before, so thank you, Jackie. Really. From the bottom of my heart. You absolutely made my day.
That said...
If you wanted my number, you didn't have to go to all that trouble, Jackie. There are cheaper ways, like just... talking to me after the match. Oh, but I guess I was carried away by the team before you had a chance to, huh? Because of all the attempted murders I mentioned earlier. Oops!
Hope your guy wasn't too expensive – and he returned all the money, like he promised he would, even though he really needs it to take care of his kid. Seemed like an honest, stand-up guy, so I have faith that he did. I teared up when he told me his life story, did you? It must be so hard to be a single father, and be forced to be away from home for such long stretches, just so your little girl can have an education? Fingers crossed our fans weren't too rough with him, and he can still do his job. They can get a little overprotective at times, but in their defense, he was trying to kill me, so...
Whoops! I'm drifting aren't I, and need to get back to the point.
What was the point again?
Oh, yes.
Unfortunately, if you had any romantic hopes and dreams, I have to warn you that I'm very much taken. But it's okay, we can still be friends! I love making new friends. Can I be your friend? Do you want to be my friend? Please be my friend? I make a great friend, I promise! I did ask my girlfriend if I could give you a kiss the next time we see each other, but she said you're not one of the Prowlers, so I guess that's a no? Sorry.
Good luck on your next match against the Salacious Salurians!
I'm sure you'll knock'em dead!
Hope to see you soon,
Your friend(? please?),
Jester
xxx
P.S: My number is 081-436 811 8181, so call me, girlfriend! Maybe we can go shopping together!
The crumpled paper ball bounced off the table, coming to a rest against the briefcase.
Josephine Ford buried her head in her arms and cried.
The waitress, coming by to ask if she wanted a refill, made a sympathetic noise. "Did they break your heart, honey? Don't worry, plenty of other fish in the sea."
This only made Josephine cry harder.
