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or just a matter of taste

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Doc’s girlfriend is a little weird.

Which, okay, everyone who works for these companies is a little weird, Snipers in particular, so it’s not really a surprise. But she’s really insistent on being an assassin, a lot more so than their regular Sniper, and she’s never heard of baseball. (No, really, she called Scout’s baseball bat a goddamn club, and then when he tried to explain, she just stared at him like she didn’t get it.

All right, so maybe “well, it’s baseball” wasn’t the best explanation ever, but he thought it’d click.)

Maybe it’s because she’s from another dimension or some shit - honestly, Scout wouldn’t believe that part if he hadn’t seen the fucking bar himself - but even that doesn’t explain why she keeps coming back when most people who wander in through that door go back twitching (and not in an over-caffeinated way). He’s not even sure if her being Doc’s girlfriend really explains it.

So one day, when she’s around and they break for lunch, he says, “So why do you keep coming back here, anyway?”

She eyes him for a moment. “Well, it’s certainly not for the pleasures of your company.”

Scout rolls his eyes; it’s not the first time he’s been called an annoying little shit and it won’t be the last. “I didn’t figure, that’s Doc’s department, but - I mean, you don’t even have to.”

“No, but it is fun, every now and then. Makes for a nice change of pace from home. And I must say, it is good to actually bed a man for pleasure rather than business.”

That would be way too much information if she and Doc hadn’t already kept him up all night a couple times. “What do you mean?” he says, hoping she doesn’t take that the wrong way.

Doc’s girlfriend shakes her head, smirking a little. “I’m an assassin, boy, do try to keep up. We don’t have guns at home, and you can’t do everything with a crossbow--”

“You don’t have guns? How can you not have guns?”

“I refuse to be the first to introduce them, that’s how. Anyway, my specialty is poisons, and that does require a certain closeness to one’s victim.”

Scout frowns. It’s not that he can’t see her doing that - frankly, he thinks she’s a little scary, but Doc obviously doesn’t, so it could work - but... “So, what, you don’t poison women?”

“I don’t bed them first. Broadly speaking, I save that for pleasure and men for business.”

“Oh, so you’re a dyke?”

Doc’s girlfriend frowns, just this side of dangerous. “I beg your pardon?”

“You know, a--” A last-second memory of the baseball disaster saves him from just repeating ‘dyke.’ “A... girl who likes girls.”

“Hardly exclusively. If you’ve forgotten why I’m here that quickly, you’ve taken a few too many knocks to the head. But so long as I’ve been in my right mind to do so, I always have appreciated a nice girl.”

“Oh. Thought you were mostly here ‘cause of that stupid fuckin’ door.”

“I’ve only taken that door by accident once.”

She’s quiet for just long enough that Scout thinks she missed the deeper meaning of what he said - it happens, sometimes, probably some kind of language barrier or something. But just before the lunch break’s up, she says, “Oh, and by the way?”


There’s a soft thud, like something hitting upholstery; Scout looks around for the source of the noise, and feels all the blood leave his face when he sees a knife sticking out of the couch cushion just shy of his crotch. When did she even get a fuckin’ knife? That wasn’t in her hands two seconds ago, he’d swear.

Doc’s girlfriend smiles; it’s definitely in dangerous territory. “The next time you insult me regarding a simple matter of taste will be your last,” she says.

“I... how’d you even...” Scout gulps. “Doc would patch me up.”

“Perhaps he would, eventually, but if he hears about the circumstances behind your untimely demise, I wouldn’t count on him being in any sort of hurry about it.” Before he can say anything else, the alarm sounds, and Doc’s girlfriend disappears as quickly as that goddamn knife sprang up in the couch.

Well, Scout can say this much: She almost got his adrenaline going so bad he didn’t need an energy drink.