[sylvanSpider]

Taka's hand was pressed firmly against Aren's mouth as two pairs of wide-brown eyes stared out from the shadows at the imposing sight of body-shaped bags being dragged. They could hear tarp against overgrown pavement over the din of the rain and neither breathed until they were past and at a safe distance. Taka, of course, recognized the men. They were men that she'd gone out of the city with before, men that she'd laughed with and cracked jokes with, men that dumped her as quickly as Maverick had when she voiced her dissent. Those bodies likely were her friends, her family. She resented them now – but was in no position to do anything about it now. If they were seen, they'd be outmanned and outgunned, and she wasn't entirely confident in Aren's ability to shoot a gun. She never was with anyone else unless she saw them shoot it first hand. No, it was best to stay safely tucked away in the comfort of darkness, watching from a blanket of shadow.

When they were out of earshot, the hand that was pressed to Aren's lips curled into a fist and crashed into the wall behind them, “Son of a bitch!” Aren jumped up, looking after them.

“They're going the same way we are...”

“That's fucking right they fucking are,” Taka growled, “It's gonna take longer now. We have to take a detour, and with Maverick's last move, there's gonna be more on patrol. We have to take the long route. Aren, do you know what the safehouse looks like?”

“Sure, I been there once before,” Aren said nodding.

“Great, because we're getting close, and I can't read,” Taka murmured, leaving the shelter of the overhang and expecting Aren to follow suit. They didn't get a chance to dry off, but if they had it would have been in vain as the rain didn't stop. It continued all the way until they got to the safehouse and Aren pulled out his walky talky.

“Tristan, Tristan, you there?”