Rosemary and Juliet

Protection Detail

Rosemary

"I don't like this."

Sitting in Agent Tracie Simon's office that afternoon, it was about the last thing that she felt she needed to hear.

"Too bad," replied the agent, leaning back in her swivel chair. "You're just going to have to deal. It's for your safety."

"As if I haven't noticed that there are always black SUV's around nowadays and feel like my every move is being stalked," Rosemary growled. "We don't need a protection detail up our asses every hour of the day!"

"I'm sorry, did I stutter?" As the three of them got closer, and Simon became like their aunt, sarcasm became an every day occurrence between all of them. "I didn't think so, but I'll reiterate: it's for your safety."

"Like hell it is," Rosemary scoffed. "We are fine, Simon. I really appreciate this, but I think our stalkers have it covered. I don't need some silent, tall, bald, shades wearing government douche sitting stoically in my living room while I'm trying to sleep after a particularly long day. Doesn't that seem at all extreme to you?"

"There's a serial killer running around who's made it very clear to you and everyone else that you and your girlfriend are just his type. Doesn't that seem at all extreme to you?" Simon replied evenly. "And also, don't call Sanders a government douche, he's sensitive," she added, gesturing to the silent, tall, bald, shades wearing government douche standing stoically in the corner of her office.

"It's overbearing, though," Juliet complained. "And sorry Sanders, she doesn't mean that. She's just salty at the world." Sanders nodded curtly, which was probably code for, "Yeah, it's cool."

"I've also ordered you two to live together, isn't that at least a perk?" Simon groaned.

"Why would you want to put her through my shit twenty-four seven?" Rosemary countered. "I really don't like this."

"Tough shit. Sanders, please escort them out of my office. I have paper work."

****

Sitting at the dining table for dinner, Rosemary stared at Sanders, who was sitting across from her. As far as she could see, he didn't speak. Or breathe. Or blink. Or do anything normal humans usually do. She leaned closer, narrowing her eyes, trying to see through his shades to see if maybe he was secretly asleep.

"Rosemary, would you just eat your ravioli and leave the poor man be?" her mother sighed.

"Is he a man, though? Or is he a robot?" She frowned, realizing it was impossible to see his eyes. "I don't think he minds. I think that he knows the irony of his appearance, and the shades and silence are just him embracing the irony of stereotypical accuracy. Oh, oh, did you see that? I think he smiled, for half a second, did you see that?"

Juliet rolled her eyes, stabbing her pasta irritably. "I love you guys and all, but I sort of wish I'd had more time to pack."

"I'm sure that Sanders can take us to your house later to pick up the rest of what you need. Right?" Rosemary looked back at the man, who nodded ever so slightly. "See. There you go."

"Thanks."

They continued eating in silence while Sanders did his job (i.e. being there and making sure that a serial killer wasn't). It was painfully uncomfortable, which said a lot given Rosemary was noticing. When one was as prone to socially uncomfortable situations as Rosemary Montague, one did not usually notice the awkwardness anymore, except when it was burning a hole through the very fabric that was the normality of her existence.

"If we go into the bathroom where there are no windows, can we close the door and leave you out so that we can have a private conversation?" Rosemary asked after dinner.