AN: Tiny drabble is tiny. I actually feel quilty for posting this; it's barely there! Reviews are appreciated, no warnings. I love you! Don't shoot meh! D:

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Smoke and the overwhelming stench of gunpowder hang heavily in the air. Heavy breathing and the gentle ping of metal on metal (cross on gun barrel) are all that can be heard. Two figures, alike in build and height, stand opposite each other in the main room of the warehouse ground floor, unmoving. The air clears enough for striking red hair and gleaming leather to be visible. A blond mop appears amidst the hazy surroundings, and nearly silent, simultaneous clicks echo quietly in the large, vacant room.

With the smoke nearly gone, there's not much left to do but stare. The fleeting thought of 'I don't remember giving you permission to follow me' was quickly replaced with 'How in the living fuck did you find me'.
Across the room, 'Mission accomplished: Epic win' was battling with 'What the fuck are you wearing' for full thought process.

Both catching their breath, the air fully clear now, neither says a word. A full five minutes of silence ensues before the blond finally lowers his firearm and runs a hand through his clean cut hair with a frustrated sigh. He's going to say something to break the tension, he decides; Something reprimanding, yet amiable at the same time. It's the least he can do, breaking the ice and all, after just leaving the poor kid. He opens his mouth to begin when-

"So, I see you dress like a high end prostitute now."
And as much as the blond would like blow the guy's brains out for that, he won't.