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The odor was fish, and… something. "Your breath smells terrible, man."
The man laughed and exhaled, long and slow, into Scott's face. "Enjoy."
Scott coughed and blinked, eyes watering. "I will, thanks. Very exquisite." He pulled at the rope that chafed his wrists, once again to no avail. "Are we almost done here? I have a date and I don't want to be late." He grinned. "Hey, that rhymed!"
"Shut up." His captor picked up Scott's cell phone and unlocked it. "It's kinda stupid that you don't even have a pass code on this thing."
Scott shrugged. "Yeah, well, I don't have one just in case my daughter needs to use it when she's staying with me. Y'know, in case of emergency. Since she doesn’t have her own phone yet."
"She's a nine-year-old kid, not a baby, man. Pretty sure she'd be able to remember your pass code and navigate your phone better than you could."
"Well, yeah, but then again, that would kinda defeat the purpose of having a passcode at all. Cassie can't really keep a secret." Scott blinked and tilted his head. "And the fact that you know her age is…very creepy."
His captor smirked. "I know everything about you, Lang."
Scott nodded. "Cool. So since we're past the formalities, do you mind telling me why I'm here? I mean, not that I don't want to be here—you seem like a very nice person and all—I just have this thing about being late, and it makes me very-"
"I thought I told you to shut up?" The man turned to a nearby table and picked up a revolver. "Do you know what this is?"
"I thought you told me to shut up." Scott raised his eyebrows. "But, since you asked so politely, I guess that means I have to be polite too. So, to answer your question, sir, I would say that yes, I know what that is. I used to want one of those when I was a kid, actually. Always thought it was so cool when the Lone Ranger got rid of the bad guys the old-fashioned way." He grinned. "Y’know…a few kicks, a few punches, then bam! What's your name, by the way? I would introduce myself, but, uh…you already know my name."
The man stared at him in silence for a full minute. "Jonathan."
"Good to meet you, Johnny. Can I call you Johnny?"
"No."
"Okay, cool. Now, Johnny, when did you say I get to leave?"
Jonathan loaded the pistol slowly and deliberately, not taking his eyes off Scott as each bullet slid into the chamber with a satisfying click. "You don't."
Scott's palms dampened with sweat. Cassie, baby, I love you . "Aw, well, I mean, I appreciate the fact that you enjoy my company that much—I'm touched, really, and I don’t want to offend you—but as much as I would love to stay and chat, like I said, I've got this date tonight and-"
Jonathan interrupted him by pulling the hammer back on the pistol and aiming it directly at Scott's forehead. "I'll be sure to let her know you're not gonna make it."
Scott licked his lips with a dry tongue. "Look, man, I don't even know what you want. Don't you think killing me would kinda defeat the purpose?"
"I just want to make sure you know that I mean business." Jonathan stepped closer. "I want to know where the disk thingies are."
"Disk thingies?" Oh. One of those bad guys. Scott frowned, feigning confusion. "I’m not sure that I know what you’re…oh, those disk thingies. Pretty cool, aren’t they? Honestly, man, I wish I could tell you, but—" Jonathan jammed the gun against his temple "—Ow ow ow, I don't have them, okay? Do you really think that Hank Pym trusts me to keep them all the time?"
Jonathan grunted. "Not if he's smart. But you'd still know where he keeps them and how to get in."
"Now, if he told me that, he might as well give them to me." Think, Scotty, think. What would Louis do?
He'd talk. Stall. Do exactly what I'm already doing.
Time for plan B.
If I had a plan B.
"Look." Scott sighed, fiddling with the knot at his wrists, "I don't have them. I don't know where Hank keeps them. And if I did, I probably wouldn't tell you where they are." He grinned sheepishly .
Jonathan sneered and shoved the pistol even harder against Scott's head, eliciting a stifled groan. "Well then, pretty boy. Say goodbye."
I love you, Cassie.
***
"And what happened next, Daddy?" Cassie's eyes were wide as saucers. Her gap-toothed mouth hung open as she stared at Scott in amazement. "Did you get the ropes untied and punch him in the face? That's what I would've done." She leaned back against the throw pillow and crossed her arms.
Scott smiled and shook his head. "No, Peanut, I started talking."
She raised an eyebrow and tilted her head in a way that said don't lie to me . "You were talking the whole time, Daddy."
"Yeah, but this time, I started talking about you. " Scott tapped her nose lightly with an index finger. "I think he's got a soft spot for little girls. Or maybe he just thought that the one I had was so special that he'd let her keep her daddy."
Cassie thought for a moment, mouth screwed to the side, then nodded decisively. "Probably that one. Mommy says that I can convince anyone of 'most anything."
"She's not wrong." Scott smiled and gathered his daughter into his arms, kissed the top of her head, and inhaled the scent of her shampoo.
“Now tell me what really happened.” The words were whispered in his ear.
He chuckled. “Can’t get anything past you, can I?” He nestled her head against his shoulder. “What he didn’t know was that I actually had one of the disks hidden in my shirt cuff. He never saw it coming. Gives a whole new meaning to having a trick up your sleeve, huh?”
She gave him a mischievous grin. "I’ll forgive you for coming to our date with a dirty shirt, then.” She pulled his head down and planted a kiss on his cheek. “Thanks for coming back, Daddy."
He closed his eyes. "You're my whole world, Peanut. I'll always come back."