“Lock the doors,” Juliette ordered, holding her basket with one hand and rapping on the window with the other. The chauffeur did so, already biting into the bun.
Juliette started forward, keeping as close to the shadows as she could. The fortunate part of the winter season was a lack of observers: people did not like looking up for too long with the wind prickling at their eyes, so they walked staring at their shoes. Juliette never had much trouble making her way to the safe house, but tonight she was on edge, glancing over her shoulder once every few seconds, paranoid that the noise she heard some street over was not the last tram rumbling to its stop but a car trailing her just out of sight.
She blamed all that talk about spies.
“It’s me,” Juliette said quietly, finally arriving at the safe house and knocking twice. Before her fist had even finished coming down the second time, the door was opening, and instead of welcoming her in, Marshall leaned out.
“Fresh air!” he said, dripping with theatrics. “How I thought I would never experience it again!”
“Hajima!” Juliette snapped, pushing him back inside.
“Oh, we’re speaking Korean now?” Marshall stumbled from Juliette’s shove, but he recovered fast, shuffling into the apartment. “Just for me? I’m so honored.”
“You are so annoying.” Juliette shut the door, pulling the three locks. She set the basket down onto the table and hurried to the window, peering through the thin crack between the boards nailed to the glass. She didn’t see anything outside. No one was coming for them. “I’m going to kill you a second time just to see how you like it.”
“It might be fun. Make sure to shoot me so it’s symmetrical with the other bullet scar.”
Juliette spun around, putting her hands on her hips. She glared at him for a long moment, but then she couldn’t help it. The smile slipped out.
“Ah!” Marshall shrieked. Before Juliette could shush him, he was already lunging at her, picking her lithe frame off the ground and spinning her around until her head was dizzy. “She shows emotion!”
“Cease immediately!” Juliette screeched. “My hair!”
Marshall set her down with a steady thump. He held on to her even once she was on her own feet again, his arms splayed along her shoulders. Poor, touch-starved Marshall Seo. Maybe Juliette could find him a stray cat.
“Did you bring me alcohol this time?”
Juliette rolled her eyes. Finding the room to be too dark, she wordlessly tossed Marshall her lighter so he could light an extra candle while she brought out the food, unwrapping fruits and vegetables at rapid speed. In the weeks that Marshall had been hunkered down here, they had worked together to get the water running again without horrendous rumbling in the pipes and the gas connected so that Marshall could cook. In honesty, Juliette didn’t think this was a bad living situation. Disregarding the whole legally dead situation, that was.
“I am never bringing you alcohol,” Juliette said. “I fear I would find this place in flames.”
Marshall responded by hurrying to the other side of the table and inspecting the bottom of Juliette’s basket. He hardly heard her biting remark; after all this time, Juliette and Marshall had grown familiar enough with the other that they could tell what was intended to be sharp and what was not. They were incredibly alike, and that was too eerie a thought for Juliette to mull on it long.
Marshall retrieved one of the newspapers lining the bottom of the basket, his eyes scanning the headline. “A vigilante, huh?”
Juliette frowned, peering at the page. “You know you can never trust the papers to report on feud business.”
“But you’ve heard about him too?”
“Indeed a few whispers here and there, but . . .” Juliette trailed off, her gaze narrowing upon a bag on the floor, one that she knew hadn’t been in this apartment the last time she was here.
Then, some few inches away, there was a leaf.
Now, how would Marshall Seo have heard about a vigilante in the city?
Juliette folded her arms. “You’ve been outside, haven’t you?”
“I—” Marshall’s mouth opened and closed. He tried his best. “No! Of course not.”
“Oh?” Juliette reached for the paper and turned it her way, reading aloud. “The masked figure has intervened on multiple counts to knock both sides out before shots can be fired. Anyone with information should—Marshall!”
“Fine, fine!” Marshall sat upon the rickety seat with a heavy sigh, his energy depleting. A long moment passed, which was rare in any room with Marshall Seo. When he did speak again, he was quiet, his voice pushed out with effort. “I’m only trying to keep an eye on him. I step in on other feud business if I happen to see something while I’m lurking.”