Of Mercenaries & Love Affairs

"Do you 'ave a death wish?" Livius shook his head as he lit the cigarette for Christophe, smiling softly.

Christophe took a moment, inhaling deeply from his cigarette. When he finally answered, his eyes refused to leave Livius's face. "Not anymoree."

Livius tilted his head to the side. He wasn't sure if this meant Christophe had been suicidal in the past but had gotten passed it or if he was saying that he no longer wished to die because Livius had shown him kindness. Either way, it was a good thing so he smiled softly.
"That is good, Christophe." He nodded. "If you want to rest more you can sleep in my bed tonight."

Never had he worried with suicide, but there had been a time when he did not care if he made it back from missions or not. Now he had something to come back to, a reason to make it out.
"I 'avent been anywheere but 'our leeving room." He stood, flicking the remaining cigarette butt out into the dirt.

"Then I will give you the tour." He smiled softly, standing and leading Christophe inside. "The living room, of course. The kitchen is right through that door if you get 'ungry." He pointed before heading up a flight of stairs. "'Ere is the bedroom." He walked through a door at the top of the stairs. "And the bathroom is right down the hall." He gestured. "And that is pretty much it." He nodded.

Christophe nodded, memorizing the layout of the home just in case he ever needed to make a quick escape.
"'ou can 'ave 'our bed. I can take zee 'ouch." He nodded slowly, glancing back down stairs.

"Are you sure?" Livius frowned. "You are 'urt. Let me sleep on the couch." He nodded.

Christophe stared at him, blinking as though in disbelief. He stayed like that, simply staring for a while before laughter erupted from him. He held his stomach, shaking his head as his amusement was heard. "I am 'urt, and eef not for 'ou I would be zleeping outzide. 'Ou 'ave 'our bed." He sure as hell wasnt going to take it from him.

"If you are going to be stubborn about it," Livius chuckled. "Then why don't we both sleep in the bed? I promise I will keep my distance." He nodded his head sincerely.

Christophe ignored him, making his way over to the bed. He was filthy still, blood caked and smeared randomly across his body. He didnt think about it though as he settled himself under the comforter. It had been far too long since he had enjoyed sleeping in an actual bed.

Livius didn't even bother complaining about the man being dirty. He could wash the sheets. Christophe deserved a good night of sleep.
"Goodnight." Livius nodded as he crawled under the blankets beside the other man.

On his second night of staying with Livius, Christophe vanished. He left no note, or number. He was just gone.
Three days after that, he found himself back at Livius's home, his only excuse being he had work.
But his shovel, that now sat propped in the corner of Livius's room was proof enough that it had been more than that.
This was life with Christophe. He would be gone in an instant, back at random times, and no true excuse for where he had gone.
And one day, when he left, he managed to stay gone for well over two weeks.
Why?
Because on his latest trip to America, while working on putting an end to some mans life, he had met a man by the name of Eric Hargrove.

On the day they met, Eric sat at a bar in some club, being he had nothing better to do on a Friday night. His usual Friday nights were spent with long nights in front of the television curled under the blankets in his bed. He had thought this would be more entertaining but it was not turning out that way at all. At least not until Christophe walked into the club.
Eric watched him, realizing immediately that, like him, Christophe wasn't the type to be in a club like this often. There was something about the man though, maybe it was the look in his eyes, that made Eric want to talk to him. The guy looked like he had a story to tell.

Christophe plopped himself down in a small corner of the room, ordering himself a glass of beer and some whisky to wash it down. It had been a bad f*cking day. It had taken him hours to track a man down, and then killing him had been a struggle. In the end, Christophe had made it out with merely a scratched cheek. Still though, he was worn out.
He missed Livius.
And he wanted to go home. Or the only place he stayed enough to call it that. He had not noticed Eric upon walking in, much to consumed with thoughts of his work and his lover to worry with a stranger. He had not called Livius in weeks, he should at least let the man know he was alive.

Eric wasn't the type to attempt to talk to strange men in bars, but then again, he wasn't even the type to go to bars and here he was. So why not? He slipped onto the stool beside Christophe, glancing at him quickly before looking away. He ordered himself a drink, trying to think of words to say to introduce himself.
Finally, as his drink arrived, he turned to Christophe.
"Tough night?" He questioned. The man looked extremely tired. But the second the words left his mouth he groaned internally. Well that was stupid.

"Tough lifee." Christophe answered without bothering to look at Eric, downing his whisky in only four sips. He was only here until he figured out where he was going to park his van. That would be where he slept. Finishing his drink, Christophe finally turned to give Eric his attention, already lighting up a cigarette. "Do 'ou 'ave zomething 'ou want?" He asked rather impatiently, eyeing the man cautiously. "'ou don't look threeatening."

"I..." Eric spoke up before pausing. Trying to be smooth was going to get him nowhere. He was just not good at that. So he figured if he wanted to actually talk to this man, he should be honest. "I don't need anything." He shook his head. "You just look... interesting. And I could definitely use something interesting in my life right now." He spoke honestly, letting out a sigh.

"I am not zome toy 'ou can play weth and throw off." Christophe's eyes narrowed on Eric, but he had a feeling that the man meant him no disrespect. "I 'ave more important thingz to worry about than being eentertaining." But he made no move to leave, instead he ordered another drink and stayed out beside Eric.

"O-of course you do." Eric sighed, shaking his head. "I didn't mean to... Sorry." He murmured simply, ordering himself another drink because he was going to need them if he ever wanted to stop stammering and apologizing like a bitch.

Christophe watched him, head cocked to the side slightly. "'Ou aree a veery sorry peerson." It was a mere observation. The man seemed to have an almost nervous tweak about him. "Reelax." He took another drag from his cigarette.

Eric attempted to do as the man said.
"I know." He chuckled. "I don't really go out often." It had been a big step for him approaching someone like Christophe. And he still wasn't sure if he had made the right choice in doing it.

"I don't eezher." Christophe had already let down his guard slightly. This man was surely not someone even capable of harming him. "'ou aree 'ou?" His brow eyes landed on Eric's face, studying him. "I am Christophe."

"I'm Eric." He smiled softly at the other man. "You're French, right?" He was pretty sure it was a French accent the man spoke with.

"What would geeve 'ou zhat idea?"  Christophe's voice was thick with sarcasm, but yet he continued with a small smirk at the man.  "Cant 'ou zee zhat im obviouzly Afreecan?"

"I was just making sure." Eric laughed. "For all I know you could have just had a speech impediment or something. I'm not an accent expert."