What's Your Intent?

Chapter Five

He was panting, short of breath from his outburst, or maybe it was from the shock of what Gon had just offered him. It was hard to tell considering his facial expression hadn't changed at all.

Gon waited for some sort of response from the white-haired male, some sort of indicator that he had understood what he said, but there continued to be a blank stare.

"Look, Killua. I understand your probably confused and don't understand anything about what I'm offering—"

"Of fucking course I don't understand what you're saying!" Killua roared, eyebrows frowning from confusion. "You're basically telling me every fucking thing I've done, every murder, every robbery, and whatever other shit I've gotten laying on my record is gonna be excused!"

Shocked at the sudden outburst, he swallowed, "Well, yeah. That is what I'm saying. I mean, in execution, it isn't that hard to understand." He rubbed the back of his neck, laughing at how simplistic the idea actually was.

"That's not what I'm trying to get at," KIllua groaned out turning away and quickly filling a glass with water before downing it. "I know what you're saying and, considering how freakin' mental the hero's association is, I wouldn't put it past you. No, what I'm trying to understand is how you bargained— with my completely insane family— to get me on your side."

Straining for a proper answer, mouth opening and closing like a fish in water, Gon just let out a short pathetic sound before answering. "Honestly, all Netero said was, 'oh, that kid. Yeah, I know his grandfather. Let me see what I can do.'"

"Kill me now," Killua mumbled, before walking back to the couch and sitting down. Gon watched from afar as the assassin continued to talk to himself while typing on his laptop.

To be honest, Gon wasn't sure what he had expected form Killua— or about Killua. Sure, when he had seen the security tapes and the final identification of him, we were surprised. He had built an image of the villain in his head, but it wasn't anything like the real thing. Nothing could've been close.

First off, he was from an elite family of killers. Gon had thought he might've been apart of a mafia family, but he was close enough with that guess. But outside of that, Killua was as normal as they came. He was a university student, studying psychology and sociology, was a frequent visitor at a local gym, and had a part-time job working at a convenience job during the night shift.

Gon slowly walked his way around the couch and leaned against the wall, taking in more of his features.

This was what had taken him back the most. Sure, he new Killua would be tall with subtle muscles and long limbs, and yes, he knew Killua's eye color was absolutely electrocuting. What he hadn't expected as the huge puff of cloudy white/silver hair or the glossy white skin. Especially not the perfectly soft yet sharp facial features, the pouty lips, or the oversized sweater practically swallowing him whole— he looked too damned soft to be an assassin.

"If you're expecting me to say yes, just like that, I'm not," Killua said while finally looking up at Gon, breaking him out of his trance.

Frowning slightly, Gon propped himself off of the wall and stepped forward until he was just in front of the coffee table, opposite of Killua. "Then what would it take."

He was silent for a second before sighing, setting the laptop back down and rubbing his hands together, "A lot of things. I mean, I don't have a lot of options, but both aren't very favorable, to be honest."

Nodding, Gon took the card back from out of his pocket and handed it to Killua, who took it this time. "I can sort of understanding what you mean. We just want you to be on our side, even if that means letting you just sit behind a computer all day."