Cameron straightened out of the corner when two men were taken down, but six were still remaining, and fucking up his kitchen with their bullets!!! Cameron surged forward and shot one in the shoulder, bucked one with the butt of his gun as they turned, and slammed the butt into the back of the neck of the third. Just one more, and they stopped shooting and looked torn as to whom he should attack.
Ava dives behind the island in the kitchen, bracing herself as the bullets lodge themselves into the metal. When most of the men have successfully been taken down, she stands up and fires twice more, both bullets hitting the last man in the head. Due to the close proximity, she gets splattered in the face with blood. “For fucks sake man, didn’t I just tell you not to fuck anything up?” She asks, though her tone is much lighter than it had been earlier. Wiping the blood off of her face, she wrinkles her nose in disdain.
"It's you that provoked them to tear up my kitchen!" Cameron snapped back quite loudly, dropping his gun with a clatter and hurrying forward to check the damage on the metal piping of his new oven. "Goddamnit… I guess it's lucky I was planning to replace this." He whipped around to face her again, his clothes also stained with the blood of their last victim.
"What are you doing here?" He asked sharply, looking quite crazy with blood in his hair and on his face.
Ava rolls her eyes at his response. “Oh, I’m so sorry for saving your fucking life!” She snaps, getting to just shoot him. “Would a simple think you cause you to die?” She demands. “You’re such an ungrateful bastard. This is the second time that I’ve saved your life and you thank me by complaining about your stupid kitchen?” The man is such a fuckwad. “Does it matter what I was doing here?” She questions, watching him closely. “Screw this, I’m leaving.”
Cameron shook his head and went to go clean up. I'd rather it be someone who actually has a sense of fucking compassion.
"Yeah, thanks," He growled, though there was a tone of thankfulness in his gruff, put-off voice. Though he would have rathered the bullets in his island be in his chest. That would cost less money. Unless it counted a funeral, then no, it wouldn't.
“Hope your insurance covers a firefight,” Ava sasses, now feeling bad in the slightest that his kitchen had got ruined. She plucks off her mask and stuffs it into her pocket. Whistling, she calls for Kreja as she starts to leave. The only reason she had been here in the first place is because of the dog. “I swear, you’re trying to drive me crazy,” She murmurs affectionately to him when he trots over.
Cameron sighed and flopped down on the ground, right into a puddle of blood. He didn't care, however, as he felt the liquid sink into the cloth of his jeans. He lolled his head back against the wall and sighed upward, shutting his eyes. His insurance company didn't cover it. He'd have to cover the predictably expensive repairs on his own, out of his own pocket. Even if he ran out of cash, he wouldn't tap into his savings. And he sure as hell wouldn't crawl to his family.
Though you're saving money for them and your son…? He asked himself. You're fucking pathetic.
When Kreja grabs her sleeve with his teeth, Ava looks down at him. The dog fixes her with a stern gaze before turning and trotting back into the restaurant. “Traitor,” She mutters before following him. The sight that greets her is a pathetic one. With a heavy sigh, she shakes her head. She searches around the building until she finds a supply closet. Once successful with her search, she grabs what she’ll need before joining Cameron in the kitchen. “Come on, let’s get this cleaned up,” She comments, sitting down near him.
Cameron ignored her and ran his hands up over his face. "If you're here to tell me how pathetic I am, don't. I already know," He mumbled over his meaty hands, his legs twitching unclmfortably at the warm blood touching his skin. But he felt disconnected from his aching, stressed body. The environment totally changed, and the police were going to arrive soon. It wasn't going to be good. Not at all.
“Calm down, I’m just here to help you,” Ava says, not bothering to look over to him. If they get wrapped up in a conversation, it’ll take them longer to clean. Sticky blood stains her hands but she works through it. The sooner they get this mess up, the better. If the cops arrive while they’re scrubbing blood off of the floor they’re screwed. “Kreja, you’re on cop watch,” She tells the dog after a moment of silence. When he hesitates, she repeats the command in Croatian. This time he trots off obediently.
Cameron sighed loudly at 'cop watch' and stood up slowly, looking down at his beblooded clothes.
"Fuck. I'm going to go change and burn these." He carefully stepped out of the puddle, took off his sandals and rolled up his pants to avoid any tracking into his office or further along the kitchen as he slipped into the office, changing into something random he found stashed away in his desk. The shirt had a big stain at the hip, but it fit well, and the pants were a pair of shorts. He tossed the bloody clothes into the burner and washed off the sandals in the sink in the enployee bathroom before going to assist her in scrubbing off the blood, thinking of what to do about the bullets in the island.
Ava is now very greatful with the rather short shorts that she’s wearing. Since she’s on her knees, she shouldn’t get any blood on them. Her jacket on the other hand will need to be burned. Luckily, it’s just a fleece jacket and not her favorite leather jacket. Scrubbing at the floor, she makes good progress with getting the blood cleaned up. This is a painstakingly long process but if they do it well enough, no one will be able to tell that a bunch of men died in here. “Fuck,” She swears loudly when she hears Kreja bark and run back inside. “The cops will be here soon,” She tells Cameron, briefly glancing over to him.
Cam nodded and took her sponge, taking it away and tossing them into the burner that keeps his office and kitchen warm on wintery evenings. Just as he walked back out, dusting himself off, a couple men clad in police gear walked in, looking concerned with their fingers near their guns.
"Hi there," They said, looking between the pair. Cameron stepped in front of Ava to greet the cops, hiding her and her bloodstained fleece, a hint that she needed to get rid of it.
Ava quickly gets up to her feet and calls Kreja over to her. She gives a quietly sigh of relief when Cameron steps in front of her to hide her blood stained jacket. Without wasting anytime, she shrugs it off and hands it quietly over to Kreja. The dog takes the jacket and scurries off. He slips out of the back door and and races down the street. After ditching the jacket in a bush, he returns to the restaurant and sits down next to his owner.
By the time Kreja returned, Cameron had explained that a few men had broken in. He tried to fight them off with a couple of pistols (that he showed permits for), hence the amount of bullets in the island. Cam managed to make a joke about it ("Guess I'm not as good as a shot as I thought!"), before explaining that Ava had woken up early to walk her dog and heard the commotion, running to help, and that's all the info the cops needed. After about half an hour more of discussion of what will happen, the men left.
Ava let’s him explain, only chiming in when necessary. Luckily, the cops seem to believe them and leave after about thirty minutes. “Thank god,” She comments, relaxing a little when the cars pull away from the building. They had gotten off the hook fairly easily, something she’s very thankful for. “Good boy!” She praises Kreja as she bends down to pet him. The dog’s entire body wiggles as he wags his tail in delight at the praise.
Cameron turned and slumped away to the island, running his fingers over each individual bullet, counting them quietly. Twelve. His insurance company sure as hell wasn't going to pay for it. Something whispered in Cameron's ear– a wish– that Ava hadn't come to his rescue. His death would be better than dealing with the consequences of being broken in.
“You good?” Ava asks, watching as Cameron counts the bullets in the island. She can’t be sure what’s going on through his head but based off of the look on his face, something is seriously wrong. To be honest, she’s not really sure that she cares but asking is the polite thing to do.
Cameron picked at a bullet and pulled it out, plopping it onto the floor with a soft plink. He pulled a second out before responding: "No. I'm not okay. Thanks for saving me. You can go now, if you need. It's late. And I'll be out of your way for a while. Perhaps forever." The words felt dull on his tongue. It felt like the words of an over-exaggerating teenager who had just broken up with his girlfriend and was experiencing that type of grief.
Ava arches a brow at this new and dramatic side of the man. It reminds her of a sullen teenager and it’s rather pathetic. This might just be more annoying than his usual personality, at least she can give him sass for that. She steps over to him, careful to maintain a safe distance. “Something is clearly wrong. What is it?” She asks again, not sure why she’s still here. He had just told her that she can leave and yet she’s decided to stay.
Cameron shook his head and extracted a fourth bullet. "I know you don't want to be here. Just go." Once again, reminding himself forcibly of a moody teenager. He needed to buck up, but something creeped over him and wouldn't let go. He needed a good drink and a thirty-hour sleep before he had to inform his bank and the companies he's under about the situation. Thinking about it made him feel dead on his feet. Expecting to hear "no compensation will be given" made him feel worse.
“If I didn’t want to be here, I wouldn’t be here, trust me,” Ava says, growing sick of his attitude rather quickly but she’s forcing herself stay stay calm and patient. “Look, I’m staying here with you unless you want me to leave. So, if you want me to leave, say it.” Why is she being so stubborn about this? She can’t think of a good reason to save her life.
"Leave. I'm fucking pathetic, and I know you don't want to be here. Hell, you said it yourself." His voice had something of a spine to it, but it still fell out of his mouth like a weight. Plunk plunk, went six and seven. He watched it fall with doughy eyes, and went to picking at a stubborn eighth bullet.
The pathetic part is certainly right. Ava bites her tongue and let’s him finish being a miserable bastard. “Stop acting like a kicked puppy, it’s not going to get you anywhere,” She tells him before pulling the leash out of her pocket and attached it to Kreja’s collar. He’s made it clear that she’s not wanted here so she’s going to leave, just like she said she would. “If you change your mind, I’m sure you know where to find me.”
"I don't. And I have every right to act as I am." He left the other four bullets to their own and stalked into his office, slamming the door behind him. He was going to go back to sleep and hope this wasn't a bad dream. He flopped into his chair and ran his hands up his face, gripping his hair tightly.