Wrong place, Wrong time

4

Isaac “The dentist” Ventura

She’s in shock. She went from letting out a little laugh to staring into the corner of the room with tears rolling down her cheeks. She’s very quiet, trying to hold herself together. I’m impressed, but not really sure why. I usually find joy in the misery of others, and so do my fellow brothers in crime, but I feel something stirring inside me by looking at her struggling with so many emotions in that tiny body of hers. Nico’s jaw is tense and Malcolm looks uncomfortable as well, and not just because of the inhumanely small chair. We are not usually a quiet bunch, the four of us, well, the three of us. Nico doesn’t talk but his loud personality and uncontrolled facial expressions make up for it. But, ever since the eardrum shattering screams sounded from the girl from somewhere in this goddamn hole, the air has been growing suffocating little by little. It’s almost a relief that she’s back in this room.

They roughed her up quite a bit. She is fully drenched in what I assume is water. Her eyes are bloodshot, I observe. She must have been deprived of oxygen for a while. Her arms are scraped from contact with the concrete floor, and she has handprints along them as well. The most protruding handprint is on her jaw. I’m almost praying in my mind for her teeth to be unscathed. She hasn’t spoken a word to us yet, so I haven’t been able to make a qualified observation about them yet.

We continue to say nothing. To be honest, I don’t think any of us really know what to say to make her feel any better. She eventually calms down and removes her hands from her face. She pulls her knees to her chest and rests her chin on them, staring blankly at the wall. The poor thing looks utterly exhausted, and it makes me want to put her in my pocket and keep her as a little pocket hamster.

“Are you feeling a little better now?” Malcolm asks her, sending her a deadly smile. He should tone it down a bit if he doesn’t want to scare her half to death. I discreetly glance back at her, to see how she’s going to respond to his question. She looks at him intently, as if trying to figure him out with the least amount of effort as possible. Good luck with that, love, figuring Malcolm out is as easy as walking through a desert made of quicksand. For a moment, I think she’s not going to give him a response, but she seems to come to a conclusion and gives him a small nod. She is shivering from being wet mixed with the chill of this dank room.

“Are you cold?” He asks her as well. She answers his question with another nod of her head. He glances at Nico and they share a look. He gestures towards the girl with his head, and Nico lifts himself off the floor to remove his suit jacket. Nico walks as close to the girl as the shackle allows him to, and holds out the jacket to her. She looks hesitant to take it, but the sound of her own teeth clattering seems to make up her mind. She slowly reaches her shaking hand out to grab it and sends Nico a millimeter of a smile in thanks. He returns her smile with a tight one, barely noticeable. Maybe they’re communicating telepathically? Nico returns to his previous spot. The girl doesn’t put on the jacket right away, she looks like she is struggling with a dilemma, probably debating on whether she should remove her drenched shirt or not, so I decide to make her decision a bit easier. She must be freezing. The temperature in here is not doing her any favors. Neither is the drenched shirt.

“You should remove your shirt and leave it to dry, it’ll get you warmer faster without it on underneath the jacket.” She shoots me a quick nod, as if I just confirmed her already existing plan. “We’ll give you some privacy, right guys?” I look at the guys, who either nod or grunt in confirmation. Nico, Damiano and I avert our eyes while Malcolm closes his. I hear a bit of movement, and the fabric of the jacket being pulled on. Malcolm opens one eye at a time to see if she protests, but she doesn’t. She is keeping the jacket wrapped tightly around herself. Her eyes are tearing up a bit again, but this time she keeps the tears at bay.

“Thank you.” She whispers almost inaudibly, we definitely would have missed it if it wasn’t so quiet in here, and if we weren’t already looking at her. I get a small glance of her teeth, making me smile big. They are in fact still intact.

“Don’t mention it.” Malcolm responds. Nico sends her another nod. It gets quiet again, and I decide it’s time for an icebreaker.

“So, what toothpaste do you use?”

“Jesus f**k,” Damiano mutters in disbelief, “How were you ever a dentist? Could you even speak with your patients?”.

“I thought you loved my small-talk, you never complain when I’m patching you up.” The audacity of that man, I’ll patch him up in silence from now on. We continue to bicker back and forth, which amuses Malcolm and his smile grows wider. The girl suddenly interrupts our bickering, looking rather fearful.

“Colgate.” The girl whispers, making all four of us snap our heads towards her. She looks taken back, she probably didn’t expect us to hear her. I decide to up my charm and send her my most dazzling smile, since Malcolm is smiling as widely as he possibly can, and she is beginning to shrink back. She clears her throat and casts her eyes downwards, looking intimidated by the attention placed solely on her.

“I usually use Colgate if it’s available.” She elaborates further.

“Great choice, love.” I praise her. She meets my eyes when she glances back up at me. “That toothpaste is recommended by three out of four dentists worldwide, one of them being me.” Her gaze turns curious.

“Are you still working as a dentist?” She asks me, prompting me to smile again. She knows nothing about us, and we know just as little about her.

“Well, I think it’s about time we got a few introductions out of the way,” I look at the others who nod in agreement. “I’m Isaac, but most people know me as The Dentist, and that guy over there,” I nod my head towards Nico, who gave her the jacket, “He’s Nico, and he doesn’t talk. He doesn’t have a tongue.” Her facial expression remains the same, making me wonder if she is actually listening to what I’m saying.

“My name is Malcolm, It’s a pleasure to make you an acquaintance.” Malcolm bows his head a little, he has always been on the more formal side. This makes her lift her eyebrows at him. A hint of annoyance flashes briefly in her eyes. She was probably trying to remain indifferent but failed. She looks towards Damiano, who’s out of my sight. Damiano remains silent, but Malcolm wakes him up.

“Hey, Scarface, introduce yourself, you grump, before I tell her your real name.” Malcolm smiles at him endearingly. Damiano is hilarious to annoy and easily fired up.

“You just did it for me, old fuck.” He responds furiously. See? My attention is still on the girl, and she suddenly looks fearful.

“Your turn.” I hear Scarface’s voice demand of her. She narrows her eyes and starts mumbling something about a Weasel.

“Who the f**k is Weasel?” He spits out. I can see the question startles her.

“Oh, uh, the evil man from before,” She stutters out. “The one Small Chair called a punk-ass looking bitch.” I snort loudly. I can’t believe the names she’s come up with. Why didn’t I think of that?

“You call him Weasel? And you call Malcolm Small Chair?” I’m full-on laughing now and Malcolm is slowly joining me. Her cheeks are turning red, and she looks embarrassed. A tiny, cute, embarrassed tomato.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know your names, so I came up with nicknames for you.” She grimaces, trying to appear more apologetic.

“Please do tell the rest.” Malcolm requests with a laugh. She hesitates for just a second before agreeing.

“Uh, radiator-guy,” She points timidly at Nico, then she points towards me and continues: “Pole-guy, because it seemed more appropriate than calling you stripper”. I bark out another laugh. She’s got jokes. She puts her finger back down and meets Malcolm’s eyes, “I called you Mr. Small Chair for what I’m assuming is an obvious reason.” She eyes the chair he is sitting on, and he seems to nod in agreement with a chuckle. “And,” She pauses, glancing towards Scarface behind me, who is listening patiently, I think, I can’t really see ham at the moment, “last but not least, Mr. Ceiling.”

“You’re a funny one, aren’t you love?” I question her rhetorically. Malcolm and I are still chuckling. “What about Weasel, what’s the story behind that?” Her cheeks heat up again at the question, as if she’s embarrassed about the answer.

“Oh, well, you see,” She stammers out, “He reminds me a bit of the small horse-looking animal from Shrek, but I don’t remember the word for it in English and I don’t remember his name either.”

“Wait, do you mean Donkey?” Scarface questions her, sounding like he is in disbelief. Her shoulders relax as if she’s found the answer to a problem she thought she’d never solve.

“Yes! Thank you, that’s the one.” A sliver of excitement shines on her face. This time Scarface can’t hold back his laugh. Now she’s got the three of us laughing and Nico smiling to himself. Wait, he smiles? Since when? Do I not pay him enough?

“You’re right, now I won’t be able to unsee that.” Scarface sighs after collecting himself, he clears his throat. “So, what’s your name?” She begins to look uneasy again.

“Lena, It’s short for Magdalena, but here in America it’s easier to just say Lena.” She tells him carefully.

“Pretty name for a pretty girl, right Nico?” I decide to compliment her, dragging Nico into the conversation, but he just lets out a ‘tsk’ at my teasing. I’ve seen the few looks he’s snuck her way.

“How old are you? You look too young to be at a hotel by yourself.” She looks back over at Scarface and just as she’s about to answer him, the door is kicked open yet again and in saunters Weasel with a raging glint in his eyes. I can totally see what she means now, I’m officially adopting the Weasel nickname for him as well. He storms right towards her before she can even scramble to her feet, and pulls her up by her hair, resulting in protests from Malcolm and I. No f*****g manners in that guy. First, he barges into the room without knocking, interrupting valuable conversation with a lovely young lady, then he puts his gross hands on her for no reason. I’m sure he could have asked her nicely to get up first, before doing it on his own. The excitement of what I want to do to him when I get my hands on him is almost overwhelming. I’ll make him into an experiment.

“That’s no way to treat a lady now, is it?” Malcolm points out deadly calm, with a smile on his face.

“What’s it to you? You don’t know her, isn’t that what you told me?” Weasel taunts. He looks towards one of his men, standing outside the room. “Take her, Sascha is awaiting her in the other room.” Weasel pushes her roughly into the arms of the man he called into the room, who grabs her and quickly halls her out of here. I hear the rattling of chains from behind me, indicating Damiano is struggling against them. Weasel just wears a casual smirk, looking like a real dipshit. He’s going to get what’s coming to him. He’ll regret the day he was born.