cecil.

I'm not quite sure how I keep ending up in these situations.

I was just out grocery shopping for tonight's dinner, meaning to meet Yves from school, when I was set upon by a few men.

Annoyingly enough, I was outnumbered and taken by surprise, and after one of them got in a rather dirty hit from behind I was a little stunned and dragged into the building they'd stopped me near.

I wish I wasn't so used to this scenario.

'I don't know what you're after,' I sigh, seeming probably calmer than they expect me to be, 'but you'll not get it.'

'We know who you are,' the man who's seemingly in charge grins, tying my hands with some rather uncomfortable rope, 'don't try to deny it--'

I roll my eyes, looking around the room; a couple of men are outside the door, there's only one in here with me. I assume they're a few low life criminals who fancy themselves as a bit of a gang. Cecil comes across these sort of crooks now and then, but they rarely give him any trouble; it's easy enough for Black Well to stamp them out.

'I have nothing to give you,' I continue, 'You'll have to be more specific.'

'We're going to get rid of your gang,' the man says proudly, waving his gun nonchalantly. I raise an eyebrow.

'My gang?'

'Black Well!'

I suppress a laugh after a moment of shock realisation, then can't contain it. The poor, stupid man gets annoyed by this, clouting me across the face with his gun. I taste blood.

'You are an idiot,' I grin, struggling against my binds as the rope irritates my skin, 'you've the wrong man.'

My captor seems about to protest, but two sudden, loud gunshots interrupt us, and then silence for a moment. In a panic, this failure of a gangster gets behind me, his gun at my temple. Again, I roll my eyes.

The door opens, and of course, there stands my Cecil, the bodies of two dead just behind him. He looks at me, and I'm aware of a small amout of blood that's trickling from the corner if my mouth. I smile cheerily so as not to concern him.

'Guten tag, liebe. You took your time.'

Cecil seems unimpressed, his gun raised.

'If you know what's best for you, darling,' he starts, advancing slowly, 'You'll put that gun down and leave my husband be.'

'Who the hell are you?' he asks, staring with horror at Cecil, who scoffs and cocks his gun.

'Cecil Jackson,' he replies, and the man falters, like he's realised his mistake. I laugh again, and he presses the gun more roughly against the side of my head.

'Fuck--' he starts, but another gunshot, and he drops, the gun slipping out of his hand and away from me.

Cecil sighs and draws close to me, freeing my hands and offering me a hand up. I embrace him to reassure him, but I can't stop the amused look on my face.

'What's with that look? Did they hit you too hard?' Cecil asks, 'and what was that all about?' he adds, wiping at the blood on my face.

'It's nothing,' I shrug, taking his hand, eager to get home and needing a little support, 'it's just funny, how people underestimate you...'

Cecil scowls at that, and I pull him a little closer as we walk. It's funny, because I did the same, all those years ago now, when we first met.

And he still surprises me, every day.