Space Mafia - Phase One, Perhaps

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They've been trailing him for at least half a week now, long enough to know exactly what schedule he held on weekdays, what coffee shop he frequented, where he stopped before heading home, even who he talked to on the commute. It was also long enough for Viana to begin to get antsy, enough for her to begin to despise the simplicity and genuine honesty of this place, but she had never been good at sitting still. It was a relief, then, that Evan rolled over on the couch he slept on this morning and said, groggily (but she had years of experience with interpreting Early Morning Evan-Speak), "We're taking him tonight."

Consequently, she'd been in a good mood all day. Viana was always like that when she had something to do, when she felt useful, when she felt important. It was no wonder that she left their family, Evan realized in retrospect; in his heart, he had been preparing for the day himself. Viana even volunteered to check them out at the hotel counter this morning, probably the happiest Evan has ever seen her when handing over payment. "You're awfully bouncy," he murmurs, leaning against the side of the last store the good doctor seemed to visit before heading back to his home. He takes a drag on his smoke, the last drag, before stamping out the dying embers beneath his foot. "Sure you can hold still enough for this?"

Viana's eyes are bright in the dark. Evan can almost hear the excitement in her veins. "I've been waiting for this all day," she says, voice surprisingly level, tossing the same rock she used to knock out the nearest streetlight up and down in her hand. It made their portion of the sidewalk dark enough so that no one in this sparsely-occupied neighborhood would notice if someone stole a small-name doctor off the street, if they dragged him into the alley. In the darkness, no one would see the flailing of his arms, the panic of his eyes. He lived with no family, had little friends; no one would miss him. Perfect. "And I'm sick of waiting."

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[fightfair.livejournal.com]

Evan stares at him for a few seconds. And then, "Vi! Get me the chloroform!"

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Bentley looks alarmed, eyes wide. "D-don't you think you've upset my blood pressure enough for one day?! I said 'if'!"

[fightfair.livejournal.com]

"We're simple people, doc. You gotta say what you mean, you know? Are you going to resist, or not?" There's a hint of a smile on his face, still, even as Viana pokes her head out of the bathroom door to spectate, bottle in hand.

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The doctor pauses, looking between Viana and Evan. Then, he scoffs.

"It was a completely hypothetical question. I don't plan to go back on what I said," he grumbles. "I do wonder how you're going to get me out of here a second time without raising suspicion, though."

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"Well, you'll just have to wait and see, then," Viana answers imperiously, returning in only what looks like a loose T-shirt, hanging down to mid-thigh. Her hair's all tied to the back, and the image, except for the purple hair, is surprisingly modest.

"You go to sleep first. I'll wake you up in a few hours," Evan says, settling back into his chair. "Better crash and call it a night, doc. A lot of walking tomorrow."

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Even if it's modest compared to her usual wear, Bentley makes it a point to look away. Evan was right about the 'gentleman' impression, at least. There's no signs of embarrassment, though - just the simple reflexive manners kicking in. It's rude to stare, anyway.

"Walking. Great. As if there's not enough of that in Asche, going from bike to bike, dealing with doting old grannies and their grand kids, flailing their walking sticks at me and..."

Bentley rambles on, sliding down onto the bed, closing his eyes. He faces the window, back is to the two siblings. There's not much he can see outside of it, the orange lights dimmed down for nighttime. Phantom, misty clouds disperse across the glass now and then, and it's with a sad sort of fondness that the doctor watches them disappear into the air.