1 The lady and the tramp

"So what'd you say, buddy? Do you care for the job? She's more like a lass than a woman, so it's just tagging along, driving the car around the city, paying her drinks at cafés.. all nice and easy..."

Julian was smoking in the back garden of his villa, casually speaking with his back at the young stranger. The latter was waiting two steps behind and quietly watching his old college friend finish his drink and burn out his cigaret against his smart pocket ashtray. The evening was chilly.

"...all but the gangs".

Julian turned around smiling carefreely and detected a slightly disapproving air on his friend.

"Hey, you're in no position to show me that look, you know?" He laughed. "But I still fancy it. It shows you never change. That's pretty rare 'round the neighborhood".

His words sounded partly regretful to his companion. Why live in it then?..he would have asked, but in vain. So he just patiently listened.

"Just so you understand, the girl never asked to be by my side. It kinda just.. happened. I'm telling you this, so you know how to handle this situation. But those killers will hunt her down nonetheless. If they learn about us. So I need you there to have my back. It's a relief, is it not, my friend, that I should trust you so in memory of the past we share?.."

The answer was delivered plainly and somehow mechanically.

"You saved my life back there. I'll be sure to pay it back, so rest assured."

"So I thought, but still thanks"

Julian kept on smiling.

"Well, let's introduce you then. I wonder how that's gonna work out.

And his sneer became even deeper.

The house was huge, a true gang shelter, with difficult architecture, built up to resist a siege. They passed a few rooms, all arranged in perfectly good taste.

"You look surprised. Haha, you didn't think a garbage like me would have this sort of home? I don't really care, but she wants to at least give off the feeling of a family. She doesn't have one of her own, you see. She won't say it openly, she resembles you in that regard. She won't bother anyone, won't ask for help, won't hold any grudges, nor feel any gratitude. But she does these things, what am I supposed to think then? That she hates me, but not my money? That's harsh, even for me. But the again, a woman... And here we are."

The room at the end of the hall was quiet and kind of sober. It smelled like flowers. Julian opened the door without hesitation, or knocking.