2. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Geoffrey told himself that the queasy twinge in his belly was due entirely to the wobbly ascent of the lift. He grasped the rail with one hand, partly to steady himself and partly to prevent any other part of his body from touching anything. There were a few distinctly suspicious streaks on the wall to his left, and he was pretty sure someone had pissed in the far corner in the fairly recent past. Geoffrey breathed through his mouth and stood blinking up into the yellow bulb overhead, watching it flicker on and off with each passing floor. His other hand tapped the folded piece of paper against his teeth, keeping a nervous little rhythm with the creaking machinery as it groaned its way upward. Just a quick look-see, like, and he’d be back before she even had time to worry. But we’ve already seen the sights, Geoffrey. I didn’t know you found Glasgow that interesting. Oh, I don’t really, Mrs. Wainthropp. I just saw a few things I’d like a closer look at before we leave, is all. His foot began to tap along with his fingers, and the clicking sound drew his eyes down to the untied laces that flopped on his left trainer. Sighing in irritation, and unwilling to have his face any closer to that floor, he stuck the paper between his teeth and crouched as best he could. He was crossing the loop when the lift abruptly halted. The voice reached his ears before the doors had even begun to open. “--the fuck does that cunt think he is? I’ll fucking bury him, won’t I, fucking talk to m--me, I want to know who he is and where--" Geoffrey’s head whipped up just in time to catch the full weight of two furious green eyes. His fingers jerked on his foot and he froze, folded paper wedged between his lips, looking up wide-eyed into the livid face that glared down at him. The shaved head tilted in sudden recognition. “You.” The word broke Geoff’s paralysis and he sprang to his feet, jerking the paper out of his mouth. His eyes darted out into the hall long enough to see the two bulky shapes that blocked the doorway, but then his focus snapped back and he twitched as the source of that drilling green stare stepped into the lift, and he was now definitely certain that this had not been a good idea at all. They were the same height, but Geoffrey looked up from beneath his eyebrows as he retreated step by step until he felt his back hit the wall with a thump. The rail pressed painfully into the knobs of his spine, and he squared his jaw and tried to at least look brave as his ears burnt off and his knees turned to water beneath his baggy jeans. It was a blue suit today instead of purple, but the same pair of cufflinks flashed when one hand reached out and jerked Geoffrey’s wrist up between them. He pulled the crumpled paper from between Geoff’s fingers, and squinted at it for a moment before his face opened into something that seemed almost like amusement. Geoffrey told himself that if he lived through this, he would never again write the word “suspect” on anything he carried with him. The grip on Geoff’s wrist tightened as he leaned in close enough for Geoff to smell the aftershave on his collar and the alcohol on his breath. He lifted Geoff’s hand between their faces, holding it level between their eyes. Geoff’s heart tripped and skittered as he felt the other hand slide up his wrist and slip the paper into his palm, curling over his fist to rest lightly on top. The eyes drifted down to their intertwined fingers, and then back up into Geoffrey’s blanched face with calculated calm. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t break your wee fingers one at a time.” His hands were smaller than Geoff’s, but when they flexed on Geoff’s wrist he felt his breath catch and a sharp jolt of panic shoot down from his lungs and pool behind his navel. He opened his mouth, but the only sound that would come out was a faint and cracked whisper. “I…” His fingers began to tremble in their prison, and the grip tightened a bit more. Geoffrey’s legs squirmed and he bit his lip as fierce heat began to crawl up his face. He broke the stare and dropped his head, and his other hand balled into a fist when one set of small fingers slid forward to curl around his chin and tilt his face up to meet the eyes that glittered inches from his own. Sharply curved lips raised the fine hairs on Geoffrey’s face when they whispered. “Now, I’m going to ask you one more time. What are you doing in my building?” The fear in Geoff’s belly began to melt and slither down, and his pounding heart lurched and shifted rhythm behind his ribs. His fingers clenched around the piece of paper in his fist, his mind visualizing the words written on it above the hastily-scrawled address and date. Suspect across the hall. Green eyes. One week. See what can be learned. He drew in one quivering breath and spoke before he could stop himself. “I told you. I’m waiting for someone.” He saw the green eyes flare once before settling into a dark smolder. The thin lips drew back from Geoffrey’s face, and he watched them part and curl into a slow smile. The grip on his face relaxed, but the hold on his wrist was relentless. The blue suit rustled slightly as its owner turned away to bark out one sentence to the shadows in the doorway. “Meet me downstairs.” The sound of the lift doors sliding shut was unbelievably loud in Geoffrey’s ears, and he held his breath and waited for those eyes to pin him to the wall again as the light overhead flickered and sputtered and finally went out. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ next