“It’s Minseok.”

And what a perfectly good way to ruin an otherwise fine morning.

Kris really hates to be the bearer of bad news, but considering the fact that he’s the only person that could possibly approach her with this matter and come out unscathed means that he doesn’t really have a choice. Plus, as her handler, he’s technically contractually obligated to do these kinds of things. Honestly though, she wasn’t nearly as bad as all the rumors running around the company claimed she was, or maybe they were right and she really did treat him differently due to their long past shared together and strong friendship. Of course, even if she wasn’t exactly Madame Satan as the whispered gossip seemed to paint her, he was still expecting a tantrum over his announcement.

“What the hell does that bastard want?” She’s on her feet in an instant, abandoning the comfort of the couch and the book she had been reading before he disturbed her peace. Only Kris would dare to come into her room unannounced -or at all, really-, and on her day off at that. Now, she faces him with a displeased frown, hands placed firmly on her hips in a gesture that usually left most men trembling with intimidation when it came from her. However, the giant in front of her now merely sighs and mentally counts down to the guilt trip that he already knows is coming. “I thought you promised that I wouldn’t have to ever hear his stupid name again. I was done with him six months ago.” Her accusation makes him frown and hang his head a little, because she’s not wrong, and he hates the bastard almost as much as she does, but a job is still a job and he has a message to relay.

“One of his men have been killed. One of his inner circle.”

“So?” She doesn’t even let him finish the explanation, eyes narrowing as she glares up at the six-foot-something male in front of her. “What does that have to do with me? I’m not helping him again.” She says it with such finality and conviction that it’s clear the topic isn’t up for debate- not that he necessarily wants to argue with her either way. She can be terribly stubborn; it’s one of her best, and worst, attributes. It’s also one of the things that makes her so terrifying to others, because it meant that when she set her mind to something that was that. If she wanted you dead, you’d be dead. If she was given a job, then no matter how much she hated it, it was going to get done and it would be done well, damnit, even if it killed her. She was also resolute in holding grudges, so nobody wanted to get on her bad side. Unfortunately, Kim Minseok had done exactly that. Lucky for Kris though, his news had nothing to do with Minseok- not really.

“This concerns you, because your next client is the one that killed him.”

It takes her a moment to process that, hazel eyes staring at him blankly. When she finally does, the first words out of are a monotone “ you, Kris.” Admittingly, he deserves it.

“Is that any way to talk to your best friend?” Still, even if he deserved it, he can’t help but . She’s so easy to rile up it’s almost funny. However, the fact that she could easily kill a man in less than ten seconds flat took a little bit of the fun out of pissing her off. He was the only person that dared to mess with her, because he was the only one that ever got away with it- the perks of being her childhood friend, he supposed. Ah yes, favoritism was still alive and well in the modern world.

“You’re the worst best friend ever.” He laughs at the immature reply and the pout on her face, knowing that she doesn’t mean it one bit.

Kuang Jia is a rather complicated person, much like Kris himself. Around others, they’re both stoic, expressions a clean slate that’s too blank to properly read. A good poker face is something that comes with their job description. Aside from that, there are also many more ways in which they are similar. Both have tempers that flair at the most unexpected times over the littlest of things, and both are known by their fellow co-workers as inconsiderate, arrogant s. To be fair though, that’s not just work room trash talk around the watercooler; they actually are jerks to others, though it’s completely on purpose and not a personality defect. The air of cold professionalism and groomed superiority that surrounded them both as they stroll down the halls of the institution don’t exactly help them make friends either. But none of that matters, because that’s not the real them anyway. That’s a mask they wear for their job, a persona they put on to fit the roles they are expected to play. When they’re alone together, it’s different. They joke, they laugh; they can read each other’s subtlest expressions without any trouble and pick up on each other’s thoughts and feelings as if they were being broadcasted clearly. Once again, this was probably the benefit of knowing someone for over ten years. They trusted each other explicitly and worked well together, one of the many reasons that they had been paired up as teammates by their employer when they first entered the company.

“Well, to be fair,” Kris reminded her playfully, thick eyebrows raised and the faint beginnings of a smile on his face, “I am your handler before your friend.” The dark-haired girl just rolls her eyes at her much taller colleague, arms falling to her sides uselessly with a sigh.

“Yeah, well, you at that too,” she complains, walking past him, spinning on her heels, and then falling backwards onto her warm bed. He watches her in amusement as she continues to pout, sulking like a scolded child with her eyes locked onto the boring white ceiling above her. Sometimes he forgot that she was two years younger than him, though that’s not to say that they both didn’t have their own childish moments at times.

“You always give me the hardest jobs,” she continues to whine. She eventually gives in though, knowing that she can’t turn a job down either way. Plus, she’s been rather bored lately, so it’s not as if she actually minded the fact that she was finally being put back to work after two tedious months of inactivity. “I guess, just go ahead and tell me about them, then.”

“His name is Kim Jongdae,” he begins, taking a seat on the bed beside her. The mattress dips underneath his weight, shifting her to the side lightly to accommodate for the uneven distribution on the surface, and she makes a comment about his increasing heaviness and his giraffe like height. No matter how long they’ve known one another, the sly remarks and digs about his size just never stop. There used to be a time when they were younger when they were roughly the same height, but then puberty hit and Kris had become a giant overnight, shooting up like a beanstalk; secretly, they both knew that she was still bitter about it, despite the fact that she was a female and could never hope to be as tall as him, her growing years long passed.

“Never heard of him,” she scoffs at the unfamiliar name, aiming to get on her friend’s nerves by being difficult. It doesn’t work though, his patience over the years with her grown far too much to be swayed so easily. That, and he was just as insanely competitive and stubborn as she was, so he wasn’t going to cave and give her what she wanted when she was so blatantly fishing for any outward signs of annoyance.

“Maybe you’ll be more familiar with his codename then,” Kris smirks. That’s when she begins to feel an uneasy sense of foreboding, like she’s fallen into one of his traps, because nothing good ever comes when he gets that stupidly smug look on his face. “Devil.”

“The hitman?” She blinks, running through a mental list of all of the possible candidates that fit that name and all of the information she knew about them.

“The very same,” he confirms. The smirk doesn’t leave his face as he waits for her reaction, a full-blown grin overtaking his features when he notices her complexion paling and her eyes widening fractionally.

“.”

“So, I presume you’ve heard the rumors then?” By now, it’s clear that he’s taunting her. Okay, so it may have been a lie when he said that he hated to be the bearer of bad news. Giving his best friend a hard time was just too much fun to pass up on, and the fact that she was so responsive made it even better. Ironic, how she was known for having one of the best poker face’s in the industry, second only after his own. He waits for her irritation to make itself known, trying to hold back another smile as she sits up and turns to glare at him viciously.

“That he’s a complete that’s hard to deal with? That he’s known for double crossing those that hire him? That the Chinese have had a ridiculously large bounty on his head for the past three months and now the Japanese will probably be after him too if he took out one of Minseok’s best men?”

“That’s my girl,” he chuckles lightly, breaking into a teasing grin once more, “always so well informed.” The deadpanned expression she gives him immediately afterwards obviously shows that’s not nearly amused by the turn of events as he is.

“Let me get this straight,” she releases a heavy, drawn out sigh. “I just bet on his name in the death pool for this month in the rec room, and now you’re telling me that I’m supposed to be his bodyguard?” Seriously, the her older friend was spewing was absurd.

The death pool was literally exactly what it sounded like. It was a betting pool located in their employee recreational room on the building’s top floor where they would all trade money as they predicted which criminals or famous politicians, celebrities, etc. would most likely be killed off that month. It was something any normal person would probably deem inhumane or twisted, but to people of their profession, it was just a casual game they played to pass the time and make a little cash on the side. But what did you really expect from a small company of elite private assassins, highly trained bodyguards, and each group’s respective handlers? Their moral compasses had been conditioned to be a little skewed and the morbid sense of humor was a well-known side-effect of the lives they led.

“Yep,” he hums in answer to her (rhetorical) question, clearly pleased with himself; someone really needed to knock his ego down a few pegs. That person was usually her, but clearly that wasn’t the case this time. Infuriatingly enough, it seemed as though her handler was one step ahead of her. “This is why I bet on Suho instead.”

“You just said it was because his mafia’s been having trouble recently,” Jia is quick to accuse him, slapping him on the chest none too lightly. He winces, but the proud grin doesn’t leave his face. “You knew about this assignment ahead of time! You cheating bastard!”

“All’s fair in love and war, Ji,” he laughs with his deep voice. The affectionate nickname does nothing to calm her though. Instead, she goes back to pouting, arms folded over her chest firmly and normally bright eyes dim as she glares sullenly at the far wall.

“You owe me the hundred thousand Won I bet,” she grumbles lowly.

“That’s fine. I bet three hundred thousand on you keeping him alive anyway.”

“Yah!” In an instant, she’s tackled him to the bed and he’s shaking with laughter. The sight of her small frame pinning his larger one down in almost comical. However, it stops being funny once she threads her fingers through his dyed light blonde locks and starts ruthlessly pulling. He immediately starts struggling, grunting in pain and protesting from beneath her. Truthfully, he could break her hold easily if he really wanted to; and truthfully, if she was actually trying to cause him harm or keep him captive, then he wouldn’t be able to move an inch and he would have a lot graver injuries than some sore roots and damaged pride. “Seriously, Kris. Worst. Friend. Ever.” She growls.

“Go on,” he mocks, chuckling again as he playfully pushes her off of him, swatting her hands away. “You shouldn’t keep your client waiting. What if someone kills him?” he jests. His arrogant smirk returns as he watches her get up, storm across the room, and start packing a bag. He doesn’t fail to catch the sarcastic comment she makes under her breath as she leaves the room either, her obvious displeasure amusing him to no end.

“I wish.”

He had a feeling this was going to be good. Now, all he had to do was wait for her call after she made contact with the troublesome hitman, as was standard procedure for their line of work. Oh, he could already hear the humorous rants now. Maybe he should make some popcorn to prepare.

---⸶家⸷---

Bang!

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