The Schemer

Let's Talk About L.

Before Joker could respond, a low knock echoed in the room. The said man opened the door, taking in Clara's comfortable position on Joker's bed, and the clown, who was sending him murderous look. Not saying anything, Ashwood responded by simply raising his eyebrows in mock question. His youth gave him confidence when it came to standing up for himself in front of a seasoned man. "We should go, Clara." He addressed the woman. "The funeral ended a few minuted ago, everyone's heading back."

"Good." The woman stood up, stumbling only a little bit when blood rushed into her head. Clara threw Joker one last glance, steely eyes holding something unsaid in them. The clown didn't meet her gaze, choosing to keep his black orbs on the other man. With that, not saying anything, she exited his room, Ashwood locking it immediately. 

"Come." He urged her to move before they could be caught in the crime scene. "Did you finally create your masterplan of escaping? Should I reduce the amount of sleep I have, and instead focus more on keeping you out of trouble?" Clara laughed a little at that.

"You'd be surprised there is no plan. Don't sabotage your sleep over someone as irrelevant as me." The man grunted in response. "Ashwood?"

"Yeah?"

"Nothing." He let out an annoyed groan, lowering that attractive voice of his an octave. "Clara, stop playing games. Spit it out."

"There is nothing to spit out. I thought better than to ask you uncomfortable questions."

"Sure, whatever that means. I am positive I could take a low blow from you."

"Are you? Why do I have a feeling you would blush like a virgin girl if I did that? Gave you a low blow?" Ashwood rubbed his shoulder in an uncomfortable manner.

"If it is that kind of question..."

"Have you been lying to me?" As soon as Clara's question escaped her lips, the man stumbled, losing his footing, and for a moment she anticipated him to fall in a heap of hard muscle and long limbs on the ground. Thanks to the man's gracefulness, he caught himself, cursing lowly. Ashwood never cursed. "Are you okay?"

"What bullshit did that clown feed you?" It made the surgeon lift her eyebrow, staring at the man on her right side. "He said something, didn't he?"

"That's up to you to decide what he could have told me. Care to share your conclusions?"

"No. There is nothing to hide on my behalf." An angry flame brightened his blue-green eyes and made his hollowed cheeks flush with colour.

"Even the story behind you being here?"

"You don't believe me being a guard?"

"Don't answer my question with a question." Clara snapped, snarling at Ashwood. He threw her a dirty look, equally annoyed. The man's hands tightened into fists, and she could swear he would break something pretty soon.

"Then stop asking stupid questions. I am not a liar, Clara, which could not be said about that clown of yours." Like two furious animals, they stared each other down, searching for a weak spot to bite into, looking for a way to reach their opponent's throats. 

Loud footsteps echoed in the background, people rushing towards them. Before Clara could do anything, Ashwood gripped her good shoulder in a vice grip and dragged her down the corridor, towards where her room was. They had to stop a few times, trying to avoid unnecessary interactions and questions. Those times, hiding behind various corners, she was pressed tightly to his side, feeling the man's body heat radiating off of him. He was still angry, Clara could tell, from the way Ashwood's chiselled jaw was clenched, making the fibres of the jaw muscle visible, and the way his chest rose and fell with rapid breaths. "You're not drowning, pretty boy." She whispered, feeling his heart beat fast and strong, trying to get out from his chest. Ashwood gave her a questioning look, slight astonishment showing in his lake-coloured eyes as if only now noticing the surgeon pressed to his front. "You're gulping the air down like a drowning man, Ash. Relax. You're hard as a rock, not very comfortable to be pressed into like that."