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"Hey, princess," a voice calls out, but she doesn't halt. She doesn't even bother to slow down.
She's going to take her tray and leave, moving step by step.
Jesus Christ, she did not need this.
"Hunter," he calls out with a voice deceptively joyful as he walks beside her, deliberately blocking the exit to her left.
Staring at her and smiling that Cheshire grin, it makes her knuckles ache because all she had to do was give in to that overwhelming urge and knock his teeth out, "Good Morning."
She stops and her eyes narrow. What the fuck was he playing at? She could feel the other recruits at the table awaiting with a bated breath as if a train wreck would happen and they couldn't quite bring themselves to look away.
Great, she mused sarcastically, another day of being someone else's live entertainment. She wondered if she should start charging people now, make her life into more of joke than it already is.
"Well, Hunter," he said with grin almost chastising her as if this were some fucking game, "Aren't you gonna say good morning back?"
Her eyes flashed a sharp no as she didn't respond with anything other than a harsh variation of 'Go fuck yourself.'
"Good Morning," She muttered through her gritted teeth after cursing him out in German, eyes flitting for the exit that he was currently blocking. She was actually weighing the pros and cons of simply shoving him out the doorway.
Surprisingly enough, he moved to let her through, "You're as transparent as ever. Politeness is hard for you, isn't it? Sissy wouldn't approve."
How fucking dare he? She knows this game though and so, she lies and fakes sincerity, "I'm sorry. I'm a little on edge." She seethes.
"Oh, there's no need for apologies," he laughs, the sound too twisted for Romwell ever to be charming.
She exits and of course, he follows.
"What do you want?" She finally hisses into the empty hallways.
He leans against the wall, arms crossed, "More like what do you want, Hunter?"
She doesn't say a thing, waiting.
He smiles, pressing forward and her back slams against the wall.
She's about to shove him, about to knee him, about to inflict some violence, when he pitches his voice low, "Reach into my pocket, Hunter. Don't stare. Pretend to grope me. Don't show the contents to the camera and just do it."
He has them pitched at the camera in a way that covers his lips and hers, makes me people assume other things.
Eyes narrowing thoughtfully, she does so.
"Hair," she scoffs, but digs deeper. She freezes, tears springing further at once.
She stops herself at once.
"A butterfly clip," he manages a tiny nod.
Her fingers can't stop trailing it, smearing the somewhat fresh sticky blood even more, "That means-"
"Well, she's not dead, yet." he agrees, "It seems like they have a use for her, but who knows how long that'll last?"
"How can you say that? She was your friend. How can you even think that?"
"I'm being realistic. She could still be struggling, writhing as they pin her. They could break her toes, her legs and then threaten her dad or mom or maybe even you. She's not an agent, not really, so inevitably she'll break... or maybe she won't. Maybe, she'll be too scared or too terrified to disappoint you. Coward is your favorite nickname for her, right? So, maybe she'll try to prove you wrong and they'll force her on her knees and take turns playing with her until they leave her body in a ditch somewhere, broken and lost, never to be found again."
"Stop it," she manages.
"I can help you," he murmurs, "I can help you look for her. You said it yourself. She was my friend too, but I need to know that you'll work with me, that you won't screw me over. I need you to ask me."
She waits, struggles to think and analyze and fuck it all. "Please," she begs desperately, "I know you have access to the crime scene. Hell, being the creepy stalker that you are, you probably have the license plate of the bastards that abducted her by now,"
She's hopeful, shameless, and so very full of emotions that it overwhelms her, "Please, Romwell, help me. I need to find her and bring her back home."
His shoulders shake and it takes her a second to realize that he's... laughing.
Her eyes widen.
The bastard is laughing at her.
"Oh, princess," he says, leaning his head against hers intimately, "Why so serious? You get to keep the keepsake, but the trails gone cold, the evidence contaminated, the vehicle totaled in a junk yard, so all leads are dead."
"Besides," he said, leaning back, his body weight leaving hers, "Even if I could help you, what makes you think I would?"
She hears the venom and can feel her inner rage threatening to come through. She forces herself to breathe because she was still on thin ice. S.H.I.E.L.D. won't tolerate her starting another fight.
He smiles, mocking and insincere, "Some of us have positions to maintain and responsibilities to uphold. We can't afford to waste our resources on the little guys, especially cowards like her that are so easy to break. "
Hunter doesn't bother with a verbal reply.
She fucking howls, like a wounded animal. She's dying inside and it just hurts to fucking breathe.
To her, life was all about action and reaction. When Romwell had showed her the butterfly hair clip, he had given her hope. He had dared her to believe in her sister's salvation. He had encouraged Emily to defy the rules of her pride and ask for his help. And at the last second, he had taken it all away.
She lunges at him, hard and fast.
Her fingers reaching to curl around his neck, to find a way into his windpipe and squeeze the bastard that won't stop fucking laughing until he breathes his last.
Her arms coil around his throat after she slithers behind him and mashes up against the wall.
She can hear the alarms and the sirens screech out as she jammed her foot into the back his knees. She heard him gasp as he knelt down on floor with his hands scratching at her wrists as if to pry her off.
"Look at me, Agent Hunter. Look-" She can't see who it is nor does it really matter.
She couldn't respond in the first place. Her throat was too clogged up even as she could feel the bodies trying to pull her form off of Romwell's, and she refused to make it easy.
She couldn't see anything as hot streaming tears had stung her eyes and blocked out her vision.
She couldn't focus on who was ordering her to cease and desist.
She couldn't calm down nor could she even think.
All she saw was red.