HOLD YOUR BREATH ─── six underground

iv. TILL DEATH DO US PART. AGAIN.

The girl frowned, eyeing him up and down. "You were not a scout."

"I was not."

            "Besides, the height isn't what I meant," Zero continued. He raised his eyebrow and she paused. "Well, I mean, the heights don't help. But it's this stupid hand. There's no way I can hold on that long."

Four took a step towards the girl and sighed. Taking her hand in his, he slipped off her leather glove in order to get a better look.

          There was no doubt the knife had made a clean cut through, leaving an open wound in the centre of her palm. By now, her hand was a bloody mess, stained crimson across all five of her digits. Zero wasn't too worried. Just another occupational hazard to brush off. But with the very real risk of infection, Four knew better than to just leave it exposed. So, chivalrous was he, the boy begun to take off his hoodie.

"Woah, woah, woah. What are you doing?" Zero asked.

           Four paused, his arm halfway out of his sleeve. He eyed her with perplexity, as if the answer wasn't already obvious. "Giving you my shirt to wrap around your hand. You can use it to staunch it...or whatever."

Jesus fucking Christ, Zero thought, taking note of the second time that word had been misused today. What is it with these people?

These people meaning the male half of the team, of course.

Seriously. It's like these dumbasses share this singular, mentally delayed braincell.

She needed Five. And fast.

           Rolling her eyes, Zero retrieved the Italian knife from her boot clip and reached forward. Four watched in confusion as she pulled on the hem of his black shirt and cut a small piece of cloth from the bottom. "What is it with you and your hormones, jizz-breath? Always trying to find an excuse to take your clothes off."

Four smirked and took the cloth from her hand, taking a gentle approach as he went about tying it over the laceration. "Jizz-breath? That's a new one."

"Why? Do you prefer fuck-cheese?" Zero asked, nonchalantly.

             Four laughed, pulled on the material and tied a secure knot. In response, Zero grimaced, biting down, hard, on her lip. After successfully 'staunching' her hand, the two were still left with one giant problem. They were still stuck on that fucking rooftop, their ride having abandoned them since the rebar incident. But that was okay. Understandable when you're being hunted down by the Mafia. What wasn't okay, however, was how to get out of that neighbourhood.

            The pair had decided upon making their way over to Three. Only, in order to do so in time, they would have to take a short-cut. And this short-cut involved...yep, you guessed it. Heights. Now, Four had no idea what sort of childhood trauma had left Zero so terrified of high places. But whatever went down, it was bad. Because even now, on a hut-like home's rooftop, she could not peer over the edge without feeling nauseous. It was almost ironic. A girl so unafraid of facing guns and bullets and terrorists and gore ━━━ hell, even serial killers, beyond petrified to be even a few hundred feet above the ground. They were so different.

"Okay," Four announced. "So, no piggybacks. But what about OTS?"

            But deep down, he didn't need an answer. The question was a rhetorical one. Because he knew either way she was going to hate it. And they didn't have time to dawdle on that rooftop any longer.