A Coincidental Meeting

There was far, far too much physical contact for Everly's tastes. He wondered if he was being patted down for weapons in a subtle manner. Not that he cared.

"What might this item be? I'm curious."

At that moment, their bartender removed his apron and walked away; Charlot beamed, and stood up.

"Come along--he's here, let's not scare him off." He steered Everly into another corner of the club by the shoulder, flanked by his remaining guard.

"You don't mind violence, do you, my friend?"

Everly bit his tongue to prevent a sarcastic quip from coming out.

"I rather like violence," he wished it was more than truth. "Don't mind me, I'll just be watching. I won't interfere with your business."

"Good." He patted Everly on the small of the back. "I'll leave Leon here with you--give me but un moment." He blew a kiss to Everly, winking.

Not for the first time that night, Everly felt that he had bit off more than he could chew.

"You know who I am, don't you?" He asked Leon, taking out his lighter again. "Doesn't matter. Just tell me, does he treat everyone like that? Or, God help me, am I special?"

"...Never seen you," grunted Leon, raising an eyebrow. "And if I were you, I'd go with it--Bòs likes what he likes and never takes no for an answer." The body guard's voice was thickly accented as he spoke, and some of the words were almost intelligible.

"Never takes no for an answer??" He asked, raising an eyebrow. "Well, luck is sure on my side, then...lucky me."

Everly didn't feel lucky.

The moment the new bartender caught sight of Charlot, he moved to run, but Charlot was faster; he grabbed him by the shoulder and ushered him to a back door, nodding toward Everly and his guard to follow.

His mouth moved quickly next to the man's ear, forming words that were not English. He kept one of his hands by the man's back at all times, as though he were pressing something against it.

Everly didn't recognize the language, which at least eliminated the possibilities of what it could be. He didn't think about it too hard. He would figure it out.

What he found consumed his thoughts was primarily the idea of what Charlot liked so much about him and whether it was a good thing. If he could convince Charlot to take him with him, that would be good. But if it meant sleeping with him just to get information out of him, then...Everly wasn't so sure he could do it. He wasn't sure he could betray his beautiful wife that way.

Trying to snap out of it, he watched Charlot instead.

Charlot shoved the man to the ground and fired a single shot above his head; the beat from the club behind them swallowed the noise.

"Where's the blow, Jean-Paul?" he asked, smiling cordially. The man on the ground stared up at him in horror, and he laughed. "Surely you didn't think that so much could disappear without us noticing, did you? You are too clever by half, monsieur."

"I swear, it's not here, I don't have it!" the man stammered. "You don't under--"

Charlot kicked Jean-Paul in the gut. "My apologies," he said, turning to Everly, "We will have to continue our conversation once this pig is finished squealing. You don't mind?"

Everly just shrugged.

"Only so long as you promise me that you're mood doesn't significantly decrease," he replied, smiling slightly.

He chuckled. "Trust me, monsieur, my mood only increases after I extinguish vermin." He kicked Jean-Paul again, aiming the gun at his head.

"Come on, now, Jean-Paul. If you were expecting Ernest, you're out of luck--you have to answer to me. Now where's the blow?"

"S-s-sold it!" gasped Jean-Paul, clutching his abdomen. "S-sold it for a load of c-cash, it's gone!"

Charlot spat on his face. "Fils de salop. Do you take me for a fool? If you had sold it, there's no way I'd find you behind the bar in a joint like this. No, you still have it."

Jean-Paul began to sob as bloody foam dribbled onto his chin. "It was stolen!" he shrieked. "Someone took it all--they offered me a deal, then stole the blow instead of paying. Is that what you wanted to hear, monsieur?!"

Charlot scratched his chin, staring at the pathetic, crumpled man before him. Then he shrugged.

"No, no it is not," he said, and shot Jean-Paul in the temple. Blood splattered onto his shiny black shoes; he snapped, and his bodyguard knelt to wipe it away with a handkerchief.

"I must apologize," he said, slipping his gun back into his pinstripe coat. "Monsieur Everly, was it? I'm sorry you had to see that."

"It's fine," he replied, not having so much as flinched. Despite that, he felt a familiar anger rise up inside of him that he forced back down. Now was not the time.

"Where are you headed?" he asked. "If possible, I'd like to go with you. If you'd like, I'd be willing to become your bodyguard or...whatever you desire."

Everly had to resist spitting at him.

Charlot chuckled and raised a brow. "Is that so? Well, in that case I suppose I shall buy an extra plane ticket.

"Do you live nearby?" He ran a hand along Everly's arm. "I don't have any plans for the rest of the evening."

"I live quite far," he said. Though it was the truth, he would have lied if it wasn't. "It'll probably take half an hour to get home."

"Then my hotel is closer," he said, slipping an arm around Everly's waist. "We can go there, Monsieur."

"Oh." Everly didn't know what to say. He supposed he didn't have a choice if he wanted that plane ride. "...sounds fine."

Charlot lead him back through the club, leaving Leon behind to clean up the mess.

"Do you have a girlfriend, by any chance?" he asked bluntly.

"Wife, actually," he said, staring at the man. What he wanted, Everly had no idea. "I'm looking for her, remember."

"Ah right, right," said Charlot, still smiling. "I was just wondering. It doesn't matter much to me."

"I see," Everly replied, unsure of what the right answer even was in this situation.

They walked to Charlot's waiting car; he held the door open for Everly, and touched his butt as he got in.

"I haven't managed to find a wife yet myself. Any tips?"

"Not...particularly," Everly frowned slightly, thinking of his wife. He and she hadn't met particularly conventionally. At all. Not even a little bit. "I'm not good with...people."

"Oh, I don't mind, Everly--I'm sure I'm good enough with people to cover both of us." He beamed at him, winking. "Have you ever been in a five-star hotel, Monsieur?"

Choosing to ignore the remark, he replied, "yes, I've been in plenty five-star hotels."

Though, the last few time she had been on missions to kill people, not actually staying there. That information seem irrelevant. Especially considering they had been Charlot's men.