Brick

She was mumbling and whispering something. Noah sighed, avoiding any more questions that could get him involved. He'd just wait for Morgan's call, and hope it came soon. He fiddled with the shotgun lightly and contemplated the possibility of spending a few more weeks with this girl. She obviously wasn't ready for whatever trouble she'd got herself into.

"I think we're in trouble." She said.

He rubbed the bridge of his nose and gave something of an affirming grunt. "Yes, of course we're in trouble. Well, you're in trouble." He inhaled loudly. "If you weren't in trouble, Morgan wouldn't have called me. Get over the fact that they're bad guys with guns, alright?"

He looked over the shoulder of the chair, towards Talia on the bed. "I'm a bad guy with a gun." He rubbed his eyes and quickly turned back to the door. "They kill us, or we kill them." He ticked the two options off on his index finger and thumb. "Give or take a little bit of a skill and a lot of luck."

His shoulders rolled back into a more comfortable position against the chair.

Yes, of course we're in trouble. Well, you're in trouble.If you weren't in trouble, Morgan wouldn't have called me. Get over the fact that they're bad guys with guns, alright?"

Talia opened her mouth to object that that wasn't what she was worried about, but she decided against it. She didn't really know what she was worried about; she just had a feeling they were up against more than just a bunch of bad guys with guns. But with nothing other than that to go on, she couldn't see the benefit to insisting.

"I'm a bad guy with a gun. They kill us, or we kill them. Give or take a little bit of a skill and a lot of luck." He added. Talia smiled a little; she definitely liked something about Noah. Though what it was she wasn't sure. She pulled the messenger bag out from under the bed and pulled out the files. Gun in one hand and files in the other, she went into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. Crouching down in front of the toilet, she began shredding the files, making sure the gun was resting within reach.

After a great deal of shredding and numerous flushes, she files were gone. She'd have to print Morgan new copies, but she couldn't afford to be worrying about bits of paper when she should be thinking about dodging bullets. She left the bathroom and sat back down on the bed. She upended the remaining contents of the messenger bag unto the bed to decide what she needed and what to toss.

"Are you going to stay up all night?" she asked without looking up. It wasn't like Noah was looking at her, after all.

She took her bag with her and left. The toilet kept flushing: it took Noah a few moments to come to the conclusion that she had something in the bag she didn't want him to see. Or, at least, that she didn't want the bad guys to see. He shrugged and moved a small table in front of the armchair to rest his feet on, by the time she'd come back outside. His arms still cradled the shotgun in a paranoid manner.

"Are you going to stay up all night?"

"Probably," he answered in a voice that came out more like a grunt, smoothing the creases in his jeans and letting his neck bob back against the back of the chair. If he was going to stare at a door all night, he might as well be comfortable doing so. His finger twitchlessly hovered near the trigger of the shotgun, which had been pivoted towards the door.

His eyes shot out to the window again. "You can sleep, though," he finally added.

Talia watched him settle in comfortably, wondering if he could really stay awake all night in such a relaxed position. But then again, had she been in that position she never could have gotten to sleep. She turned her attention back to the stuff from her bag. She decided that the notepad and pens could prove useful, but the small agenda was useless. She only really carried it around so she could give it to Stephanie, who lacked Talia's exceptional memory.

That done, she left the near empty bag on the bed and ripped out the pages of the agenda with information that could have been used against Morgan, shredded and flushed them. The rest of the agenda she tossed into the waste bin. She then paused by the dresser, thoughtfully. The anxiety she felt could easily keep her awake, but she knew there was no point staying up. If this lasted a long time, Noah would have to sleep eventually. At which point she would need to stay awake. So it was best to rest now, while there was still a chance Renswick didn't know where they were.

She climbed unto the bed, moving the lumpy pillows to the side. She set the gun down on the night side table.

"Goodnight, Noah. Wake me up if you get tired," Talia said. With that she rolled unto her back and closed her eyes, almost instantly falling into a light and dreamless sleep.

"Goodnight, Noah. Wake me up if you get tired,"

"Mm-hmm." Noah half-grunted again and replaced each finger on the shotgun, one at a time. The darkness moved in much more suddenly, with almost no sound and Talia sleeping behind him. He would've wanted to turn on the T.V., or radio, but he knew it would distract him too much. He just shook his head and kept on watching; waiting.

He almost dozed off a few times, but managed to snap back into alertness on each occasion. His fingers always clenched around the gun more tightly when he did.

Noah's eyelids were drooping when the headlights first burst into the room. They quickly widened. A sleek, black sedan made a quick smooth motion into a parking space. It ended abnormally close to their room. He cleared his throat and lifted his arms, shoulders moving to aim the shotgun directly at the door. He made no sound; and didn't wake Talia.

This is closed/dead.

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