"Caught In The Grey"

"Hands Up."

Song 1: "Goddess" - Xana

Song 2: "King for a Day" Pierce the Veil

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The sound of red heels clicked against the pavement leading up to a large international bank. As the doors slid open, a woman in a large fur coat made her way in as she touched up her bright red lipstick in a mirror compact. Putting the makeup away, she surveyed the bank, eyes drifting over every single individual, but as her eyes passed a security guard to her right, she instantly had to do a double take.

A mischievous smile crept over the woman's lips. Fluffing her wavy blonde hair and adjusting her baret, she strolled over to the uniformed man. "Monsieur," she called with a soothing French accent. "I am sorry to trouble, but can you--how you say--help?"

He turned to her, tracing up the woman's long legs through shear, tight leggings. His gaze tried to tug at the short black dress that peaked behind the fur coat before finally giving in and meeting the woman's eyes. "What seems to be the problem, miss?"

Her eyes focused intently on his lips as he spoke--the way they smiled and puckered to produce each word.

Batting her long lashes she spun a story of a husband, angry and strict by nature, a man whom she was forced to wed by her family. This man rarely let her out of his site except for today. This rare occasion was only due to the fact that he was very busy, so he needed her to run to the bank and make a cash withdraw for a large investment he planned on making the same evening. The problem was, she has never been to a bank, and was not sure how they worked. The woman pleaded for the security guard's help as she does not want to face the repercussions if she were to fail 'such a simple task,' as her husband called it.

There was a slight quiver in her voice as she clung one hand tightly to her chest --the other was tucked behind her back, and hidden out of sight, her fingers made the shape of a seemingly meaningless gesture 'two.'

The security guard's heart softened a bit in hearing this woman's story through broken sentences.

Standing before him was a petite, young woman, sold off to a cruel man, not a single choice of her own made in her life. She was so helpless... so impressionable... it was alluring to his senses. He craved to have her--to have her submit to him. He played out a lustful fantasy behind his eyes as she spoke but hid the ideals behind the face of a protector, a man whom upholds the law. If he played his cards right and helped her, surely she would feel indebted to him.

"What was your name again?" he asked.

"Name?" Her eyes glanced off into the distance before locking back onto his. She blushed slightly, twirling a lock of hair. "Mira."

He echoed her name through hungry teeth. A beautiful name, for a beautiful woman.

"And what may I call you, monsieur?"

"Yuji, at your service." he bowed.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the bank, there was a man sitting in a chair with a magazine in hand. As he watched the foreigner effortlessly wrap the security guard around her finger, the man began softly humming to himself. Although he flipped through the silky pages, his eyes were barely attentive to the words in front of him.

The tune was melancholic but nonetheless very soothing. Each time the melody repeated, his voice got just a tad-bit louder, but it was barely enough for anyone to notice. It was almost like a TV tuned to an old, uninteresting documentary, and the dial was turned up one notch several minutes at a time.