Christine was itching to use her gun, but she knew it would be worthless. She kept her face blank. Milo could be harsh, and she didn't want to find herself on his bad side.
"Why would they want a dog if they just wanted to blow up the police station? It could be a distraction of what's really going to happen, but the person must be close to you, Milo, in order for them to know you had a dog in the first place. Or where you live. Or how they found us earlier. So, someone clearly hates you, and I've been dragged on into this."
"You," he turned to her. "Came here by choice. You don't wanna do this? Then leave. No one's holding you here."
With that, he turned around and walked to the door, obviously pissed. The gunshot in his head may have healed, but it didn't make him any less intimidating as he stomped across the empty boxing gym.
(Plot twist, it was the dog all along)
(OH NO…It was the DOG!!! * dramatic music * I'm clearly joking.)
Christine grumbled, considered shooting him, and followed Milo briskly out the door, her frustration swirling in her head.
"I'm gonna shoot you about a hundred times when this is resolved. And that's before I put you in jail."
He slipped the gun from his waistband and tossed it to her. "If you wanna, do it now. Cause you won't catch me. I'mma be out of the country with my dog, probably enjoying a drink with a lot of Jack Daniel's in it."
Milo turned around and continued walking, heading for the boardwalk with clenched fists.
"Don't need it. My friend gave me one. And we wouldn't be accomplishing anything shooting each other, now will we?" Christine thought in silence before adding to it.
"So, what's your dog like?"
"An angel. The best boy." He didn't ask for the gun back, instead slipping something from his pocket and fitting it onto his fingers. They reflected off of the light in a sinister manner. Brass knuckles.
"He was the last gift my mom gave me before she died. So," he cracked his jaw, ""Someone's getting fucked up. Bad."
"That's…nice." Christine sighed. "If you have any questions, ask now, or forever hold your non-existing peace." She pocketed the gun, biting her lip.
"Why are you doing this? I told you he could go." He turned around and walked backwards, locking eyes with her.
"Because I can? And I'm not the only one with unusual talents? I frankly, love dogs? And I'm determined to get those people off of the streets? Good enough? You don't have to call me, 'you' anymore. My name's Christine. Friends call me Chris or Christy. No, that does not mean you're my friend." Christine shoved her hands into the pockets of her light jacket, which was a dark grey.
He squinted his eyes at her. "You assume too much. You act like you understand the way I work after 2 hours of knowing me. Here, lemme give you a hint. I'm in-fucking-sane. People don't know how I work because there is no fucking manual for my head. So stop. Before you get me mad." He ended the statement with a threatening look before turning around…just in time to run face-first into a pole. Smooth.
Christine couldn't help it. She snickered for a second.
"Nice job, 'in-fucking-sane bad guy'. Real nice job." She said when she finally stopped. "Y'know, you're an ass, but you aren't half-bad as you seem."
"And how is that?" he asked, rubbing his nose with a wince.
"Well, you clearly show some compassion for your dog. You didn't shoot me right away when you could've. And you're stupidly funny sometimes. Not to mention the whole 'intimidation' thing? That doesn't work on me. Nice try, though!" Christine said with a smirk.
He gave her a look. "That's not what you were saying when I had that old fuck by the throat."
But it was true. Milo hadn't shot her, and was now letting her tag along on something very personal. Was he getting soft?
(gtg, I'll respond tomorrow)
"That's because I didn't want to interfere with your way of…questioning people. It may not be favorable on my part, but I do admit, it gets things done." Christine nodded.
"So, we're heading towards boardwalk then?"
(You reminded me of Good Mythical Morning for some reason)
Milo nodded, fiddling with the brass knuckles for a moment.
"Yeah, we are."
With that, he turned around and began walking again.
"Where's that smart-ass guy that I met a while ago? Because he sure as hell isn't in front of me, cooperating with a god-damned cop." Christine narrowed her eyes at him. She wasn't in a pissed off mood, she was just slightly concerned, and she showed it subtly.
"He left when I found out who fucking stole my dog, alright?" his voice had an edge to it, tired of all of the questions. "I'm co-operating with you because you fucking offered."
"Okay. Sorry." Christine's voice wasn't apologetic, but nor was it harsh.
(Timeskip? Unless you have any ideas?)
They made it to the boardwalk and Milo's fists clenched.
"Look for a skinny guy with blue hair. Fire up a couple of shots when you find him. He hates guns, and I'll be done before the police get here to investigate."