Snip, snip.
Strands of my hair fell to the floor in a circle around my feet. I gazed down at the ground with a small smile, pleased to have gotten rid of some of the dark red hair curling over my shoulders. It wouldn't be in the way when I decided it was time to kill this Abel character.
According to the research I had completed not more than a few hours ago, the man was a six foot four Dutchman with gravity defying blonde hair- more upright than Lukas's boyfriend, Mathias's. It's truly a wonder how he manages to keep it up like that- both Abel and Mathias. Abel also seems to like cigarettes and blue and white striped scarves- and money. Prefers cheap things over expensive, and I'm assuming that includes his hair products. He's also got a tan trench coat, from images I've seen of him across his sister's Facebook page. I'm assuming his sister's adopted, seeing as she's Belgian and not Dutch.
Carefully, I place the small snipping scissors onto the bathroom counter in front of me. I quickly ran my fingers through my hair and watched strands of hair fall to the floor. I shrug with a sigh and wash my newly cut hair in the sink, then stand up straight. Using a towel, I dry my hair and exit the room. I'd sweep later.
Oh, and now for the fun part of my day.... After I get dressed. Making my way to my bedroom, I kick a stack of books over with a frown. I hadn't placed those there. Hell, I don't even like books. So, who'd put them there?
Frowning, I pick my pistol up from where it laid on my desk. Whoever was in here would get their brains blown out of their head. Unless they're hot. Then I suppose I could delay their death for a few short minutes. Hours....
Turning around, I pressed my socked feet on carpeted floor to the kitchen. Something was cooking. But I don't cook. And I wasn't cooking a few minutes ago, either. If it's a squatter again, I won't be hesitant to kill them. The last one was smart and ran off. This one wouldn't be so lucky.
I slam my way into the kitchen, hearing a small squeak of alarm. A fucking bunny was hopping across my kitchen. A man with that upright blonde hair stood at my stove with his face searching the cupboards. And he was on his feet. Not his tippy toes. I had to climb up into the counter to get into the cupboard above my stove. Then again, I am five feet and two inches. This man looked to be over six foot. His tan trench coat brushed the back of his thighs, and he worse black dress pants. He had set a carrot on the table for the small white rabbit springing around my kitchen.
"What the hell," I began, pointing the pistol clasped between both my hands at the blonde man, "is going on here? And why is there a bunny jumping around on my counters?"
"Ah, hallo," The man says, his Dutch accent thick as he turns around. His green eyes reminded me of that green gem. Oh, yeah. Emeralds. "Thought I'd pay a visit."
"What for?" I ask, unmoving. The rabbit nudged it's forepaw at the toe of my socks. "It's not like I..." Oh. That's who he is. "It's not like I know you."
His response was quiet. "You should turn off your computer when you're done using it. Saves money."
"That's not what I asked," My eyes narrowed at him. "Don't make me repeat myself. Who are you and why are you here?"
"I feel like you know who I am," Abel looks up for a moment, tilting his head to one side. A strand of blonde hair falls into his face, just above the tiny scar just above his eye. "And I'n here because you're going to kill me, aren't you?"
I don't respond. I don't understand. Why can't I pull the trigger? I've got him right here, right now. In my sights. It should be easy. Just to pull the trigger. Come on....
"For seventeen million," The Dutchman continues, and the white rabbit hops back onto the counter next to him. "And you aren't pulling the trigger."
"Yeah, I noticed that too, dumbass," I snapped, putting my arms down and tossing the weapon onto the couch. "Why is that?"
He shrugs. He then turns around and continues cooking whatever it is he's making, and all I can smell in the air is coffee, caramel, and waffles.
