Edited

I listened to where he walked as I went through the shelves looking for paintbrushes. I grabbed a few different ones and something to pour paint in. I observed him through a shelf as he picked something from it and moved it to another one. He had to work out a lot, perhaps a runner from the glow of his skin, and I did notice a fitness watch on his left arm. I kept my eye on him as he moved in the store as I gathered the things I needed, and it seemed like he did the same as we awkwardly kept meeting each other's eyes, and he still had that humorous smile on his mouth.

When I finally had everything I needed, I put it all on the counter, stood in silence, and listened to the beep of him pushing it into the register. I shrank a little, for every item he punched in, he looked at me. He looked a bit young, maybe in his twenties.

"And three cans of Juniper green," I managed to press out between my lips, and the corner of his mouth tipped up.

"Ask, and you shall receive, Emilia," he replied with wicked humor.

Sweet devils save me.

I watched as he went through a backdoor, leaving it open. He went back and forth, placing cans in a machine one by one and stirring them. When he put in the last one, he came and leaned against the threshold and raked a hand through his hair. "What street did you move to?"

I chewed on the question for a few moments before I replied, "would you tell a stranger where you lived?" I arched my brow, placing my hand on the counter's edge. I had to hold on to something; he was making me all woopy. And I fought tooth and nail to not smile when he kept smiling at me.

"I was just asking so I'd know where to pick you up for our date on Friday," he grinned. I raised my brows. This man was not shy, but persuasive. I kind of liked it, as I wanted to say yes – promptly, but another part of me screamed no, like a girl being chased with an axe in one of those slasher movies.

"Is that so?" I merely replied. "I'm sorry, but on Friday I'm busy." He smiled again, then loomed close enough to lean on the counter beside me so I had to lift my chin to meet his eyes – dreamy eyes. Asshole.

"Is that so," he hummed. "With what?"

I couldn't think of anything at first, but then a line from one of the movies Andrew showed me came back to me. "Washing my hair," I replied and received a smirk in return. I looked past him, and the machine had stopped. "Perhaps you want to grab me those?" I asked. Atticus bit his lower lip, narrowing his eyes as he sized me up and down again before he turned and came back with the cans. I paid and began to stack the cans and took the bag with the supplies.

"Need help carrying those?" He asked as I balanced my way towards the door.

"No, I'm good. Thanks, Atticus Emerson," I nearly swore his name, which wasn't on purpose.

"No trouble, Emilia Dandelion," he replied amused before the bell rang as the door swung open, and then the door shut between me and Atticus Emerson, and a weird sensation washed over me. Gross. I wanted to call Jenny and complain, but I knew that all I would hear in return was to jump his bones and forget about the prick that broke my heart. There was something weird about him, something familiar perhaps. Had I met him before? Had someone shown me his picture before I left? The tech department had shown me a few people of interest before I left. I had to go check my files when I got home. I dropped the bag on the pavement and filled the trunk.

As I arrived home, a box stood on my front porch, and a text came in on my phone.

Unknown number: 048000.

I took the box, leaving everything in the car, and went straight to my laptop. I opened the program we used for confidential communication. It was the Madame reaching out to me.

"What's up, boss?" I greeted her, and a sigh met me on the other side.

"Hello, Emilia," her familiar voice spoke to me through the computer. I had never seen her face, but her voice, I could recognize it anywhere. "How is Dark Falls?"

"Interesting," I muttered, but didn't add to it. "I got the surveillance." I eyed the box on the kitchen counter. I would have to set that up tomorrow, it was already getting a bit dusky outside.

"Good. And how do you like the house?"

"It's great; agent 051 chose right for me."

"You are not on a mission, Emilia; you can say her name." I heard the smile in her voice. "Yeah, yeah...I'm painting the kitchen green," I said. She chuckled.

"I'm not surprised. It's good to hear you like it there, you deserve some time off. You are one of my very best," she said. It was her way of saying I was her favorite. "Well, don't have parties, but do go to them and make some friends. I just wanted to call and tell you not to stress about that case, I know how you get tangled with those sorts of mysteries. This is a time for you to be you, alright?"

"Got it, boss," I replied. Another sigh. Me and the Madame had a peculiar relationship; I was perhaps closer to her than other agents. When I heard either Jenny or Andrew talk to her it was very formal, and Jenny, in particular, was afraid to say the wrong thing. I supposed the Madame had seen something in me that piqued her interest, which led her to practically raise me through phone calls as I grew up. If I was sad, I called her. If I was in love, I called her then too. She had given me valuable advice that had saved me a lot of heartache and pain over the years, for which I was thankful.

I closed the laptop when we ended the call, and my gaze went to the fridge; I forgot to buy groceries. Fuck. I went back into town.

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