Notes

(When she knocks, the rapping of her knuckles is somewhat muted by gloves.) He becomes dizzy with apprehension before clenching his fists to steel himself.

It takes a minute for him to answer the door.

"H-Hello?"

He finds himself looking down at a ditzy girl in business casual sporting a big yellow cardigan, slacks, and a healthy pout. She stops playing with her hair when he opens the door a little more.

"Hiiii, you must be Peter Clay!" She grins and squints when she lifts her sunglasses for a second to size him up. He feels his staccato heartbeat slow down as she crosses her arms.

"Uh, yeah, that's-- me." He fumbles with his words, unsure of where this is going. "I-Is this about the noise complaints?" He peers behind her to check if she has company, but the street is empty. The girl's gaze flits to where he keeps his right hand on the doorframe while he talks and stays there for a second too long before she speaks again. She's still beaming, but now it looks a little pinched.

"The huh? Nah, I'm Janey, the gal who's been putting up those lost dog posters you've probably seen in town." Clay doesn't know what she's talking about, but he hasn't gone to town for anything besides emergencies in a while. Sue him if he missed a couple flyers. Janey glances at his hand again and he realizes with a jolt that she's noticing his watch. Something cold runs down his spine.

"See, I got a call a while ago from a local saying that they spotted you walking a dog that looked just like mine. Do you mind if I--?" Her meandering tone sounds a lot less convincing when he catches a sliver of a leather strap at her shoulder under her cardigan.

"I don't have a dog." He answers her in one breath and tries to throw the door closed.

She stops it with her foot and he notices her lace-up boots for the first time. They might lock eyes through the gap but Clay can't really tell, too busy watching his reflection turn pale in the lenses of her sunglasses.

There's an ugly pause. She's not smiling anymore.

"Nice watch."
~
Felix tips his head back and succumbs to a fever-induced haze just moments before the door to the basement bursts open. Clay's body is kicked down the stairs, clutching a red stain on his front. The frame and lock are in pieces, and the suppressor on Dolly's gun comes into view before she does. There's a single overhead light that serves as a spotlight for Felix's suffering. He figures he must make a hell of a sight, dressed in a suit (minus the jacket, minus the tie, minus the bulletproof vest, minus the guns, minus the knives, minus the... you get the point) and carved up like a dinnerbird. The air in the basement thick with blood and sweat and his lungs feel clogged, but he still manages to huff out a dazed laugh.

He's not quite sure when Dolly reaches him, but he knows that at some point he has her hands on his throat at his pulse point (he has to fight the reflex to break her arm), then on his cheek (oh, her hands are soft), then the zipties slicing into his wrists disappear and he's pulled from the chair in one piece (miraculously). She throws his arm over her shoulders, careful not to jostle the lattice of cuts across his abdomen. His head hangs precariously, leaning fully into her without hesitation. Felix swallows thickly, pawing at her arm wrapped around his back as they stumble towards the stairs.

"He took... my watch."

"I know, agent. I know--" She grunts when he sways again, nearly tripping over his own Oxfords.

"Took my watch," he repeats, a little delirious.

"I know, I saw it--"

"My favorite watch."

"It's--" She adjusts her grip on his wrist. "--the only watch you own, agent."

"You gave it to me. Knew you'd come 'n get me... You gave me that watch."

"Shut up about the damn watch," she grumbles, exasperated in her own kind of way.

Felix closes his eyes and lets his legs move on autopilot for a second, but they fly open again when Dolly suddenly drops him to rip her gun from her underarm holster. Clay staggers back to life, snatching a gnarly looking combat knife off of a workbench and intending to ambush them. She shoots him in the shin before he can take another step, quick as a whip.

"Stay down this time." Dolly doesn't spare him a glance when Clay drops like a sack of potatoes and wails, instead turning to help him off his knees. She looks a little guilty.

"