You had woken up in the middle of the night hearing sounds coming from downstairs. You picked up a bat and went down to investigate. You hadn’t spotted anything until you saw a singular blood drop on the floor. Before you could scream, a large palm was being place over your mouth, your wrist twisted allowing the bat to hall and clatter against the floorboards. You shake in place, feeling the intruders heartbeat on your chest as you both share ragged breaths.

“Calm down and I wont kill you.” He murmurs in your ear. "Who... who are you?" you try and sound firm yet it comes out more shakily then you were intending. You push your hands against the strong chest, feeling the muscles underneath the thin sweater they wear, fingers extending- trying to shove them away with now avail as they stand firm in their spot. “Just someone who needs to hide out for a while.”

Thats how you’ve come to being forced to hide a fugitive hitman. You had agreed- well forced to agree to allow this man you knew nothing about to stay hiding out in your house until the time was right for him to leave and he promised not to harm you if you obeyed (like you trusted it). You recognised his face he was the jackal, the hitman that the British police were after drawings of his face were everywhere but here he was the real deal.

“Eat.” He commanded dropping a plate of pancakes in front of you, like it was the most normal thing to do like you two were playing house. He sits opposite you placing his gun flatly on the table.