The Cellar City Chronicles

As soon as the door closed, X’s hand shot out from behind the shower curtain and grabbed a handful of The Big Guy’s shirt. His face poked out from behind cover and the knife was pressed to his shushing lips.

X could see The Big Guy’s eyes widen, as if the guy was surprised that he was still hiding there.

“Who izzit?” X hissed, eyes flicking towards the closed door of the small bathroom.

The Big Guy’s face screwed up in fear and his eyes tracked to the bathroom door as well.

X sucked in a ragged breath and his eyes darted around the tiny space.

Noise, noise, noise, there needed to be noise…

X released The Big Guy’s shirt and slammed on the button for the washing machine, and it immediately started clanking and filling with water for the imaginary load of laundry.

X’s eyebrows went up as he turned his gaze back on The Big Guy. It seemed to help, but only a little.

It was damp in here. And now it was warm.

Two stressed out men in a closet of a bathroom. X knew there was humor in it somewhere. Whether he could see it or not, his mouth split into a grin. “Who izzit?”

The Big Guy swallowed thickly, a slight sheen of sweat beading on his brown brow.

Brown Brow. How now brown brow?

X stifled an uprising of giggles.

“Giselle.” The Big Guy whispered.

“Whozzat?” X’s left eyebrow twitched.

“She… she works for Mr. Jones.”

X pondered the situation. Someone working for the man he was trying to get his hands on was sitting in The Big Guy’s livingroom/bedroom/kitchen/thing. His first instinct was to bust out of the bathroom and tackle her to the ground, throttle information out of her, threaten until she cried –

X hissed at the thought.

It would make you feel better.

“Shut up.”

“What?” The Big Guy’s perplexed expression was comical.

X let out a wispy chuckle and shook his head.

He had to think.

He had to listen.

“Go back out there. I’ll be listening. Here. In the fucking bathroom.”

The Big Guy looked at the door to the bathroom with an expression that X hadn’t really expected.

“…Hey.” X reached out and tapped The Big Guy’s cheek until he focused on X’s face again. “Hey. Big Guy. You are scared.”

X studied the face. It was something he knew well. He saw it a lot. On other people. People who were usually scared of him. It was novel to think that someone else could inspire such a look.

Match made in heaven.

“Shhhhush.” X shook his head.

Blinking, The Big Guy was looking back at the door, wringing his hands by the sink.

With how big the guy was, and how small the bathroom was, his hands were IN the sink. X momentarily wondered how The Big Guy even used the bathroom. Another snaking chuckle escaped his lips, and X shushed himself with the flat of his chef’s knife.

“Hey. Hey Big Guy.” X hissed.

The Big Guy looked back at him, with a sort of helplessness in his eyes.

Heartbreaking.

No really, it was. A Big Guy like him shouldn’t be afraid of anything.

“I’ll be right here. I won’t let her hurt you.” X said with a smile.

For whatever reason, as X pondered why he would offer such a thing to someone who had shot him (of all people), The Big Guy seemed to take up his courage and nod.

X disappeared behind the shower curtain. Useless flushed the unused toilet.

Smart. For a big dumb guy. Smartie pants.

X hid in the shower until the door to the bathroom closed behind The Big Guy. After a second, he climbed silently from the stall and crouched by the door, pressing his ear to the pressed faux wood.

His one hand clutched the chef’s knife with an undeniable urge to leap through the door and slash and slash and slash…

“Not yet, not yet. Shut up.”

I didn’t say anything that time.

“Shut up.”