Chapter Text
Joost jolts awake to the sound of knocking.
For a moment he’s panicking, the room is unfamiliar and the bed is far too nice to be his own back in the Netherlands, it takes a second for him to remember it all, the last day coming back to him in a wave of disbelief as he lets out a shuddering sigh.
Not dead yet Joost
The knocking at his door repeats, and a voice comes from the other side.
“Mr. Klein? It’s Mikke from yesterday, I have your ID and bank cards. If you’d like, I can take you to get your phone set up?” There is a pause and Joost shifts nervously as he slips out from under the covers.
“Uh, yes that’s fine. I just need to freshen up-“
“Oh!” Mikke exclaims from the other side of the door, “That reminds me, there should be some clothes and shoes in there for you, I’m sure Jere forgot to mention that to you…” the man sighs with a hint of exasperation that only an older sibling would understand.
“Check under the bed, they should be your size but if anything doesn’t fit quite right we can have it tailored right away.”
Joost bends down to peer under the bed and sure enough, there are several boxes of various size stacked neatly. He fishes them out and cautiously opens the first of many boxes.
Suit coats and shirts, pressed and folded, trousers tailored to fit his lanky legs perfectly, shoes that frankly, look far too expensive for someone like him to be wearing. There is an array of silk and satin ties and…are those cufflinks?
‘My old boss would throw a fit seeing me in something more expensive than his own clothes’ Joost thinks and lets a hint of a satisfied smirk tug at the corner of his mouth.
“Thank you, I’ll just be twenty minutes or so.” He says to Mikke on the other side of the door.
“Of course! Take your time Mr. Klein, I’ll just be in the casino when you are finished, third floor.” Joost hears Mikke’s footsteps leaving, he takes a moment to run his hands over the smooth cut of his new dark blue blazer.
“Wait,” Joost pauses, chewing on the instructions Mikke had given.
“Did he say casino?!”
<><><>
Twenty minutes later, Joost find himself cleaned and shaven in his fresh new suit, the bathroom had been stocked with expensive soaps and shaving products, even a real high grade titanium razor. Any other time one would luxuriate in all the finery surrounding them, after all when was the last time he was gifted something without asking? Receiving the basics sometimes required carefully navigating a conversation with his former boss, walking on eggshells trying to casually slip in the request for a new pair of shoes or aftershave that didn’t burn.
He should be basking in it all, instead he’s sweating and practically undoing all his grooming, standing here in front of the elevator doors, staring at his own blurry reflection.
“Okay,” he says aloud to no one. “It’s fine, this is all a lot, you’re tired. You misheard him. That’s all.”
Ignoring the skeptical disapproval in his own head, Joost hits the button and in a moment, the elevator is summoned. The doors part open with a mild chime and he steps into the elevator, the doors closing behind him.
He stares at the panel of glowing buttons before him, contemplating for a moment just riding the elevator down to the lobby and walking right out the door.
He…he could actually do that, bail on this whole insane situation that is sure to get him killed and take his chances somewhere far away from this circus he’s found himself in.
‘I’m sure there are plenty of cabins to hunker down at in the Finnish wilderness…maybe I’ll get lucky and a bear will eat me before the mob does…’
Would Jaakko be there to stop me? Or The strikingly similar man at the front desk? Would Mikke follow him out and try to convince him to stay?
Would Käärijä’s eyes look as sad as before? When he handed back his pills?
Joost shakes his head and hits the button marked ‘3’ none too gently.
Don’t be impulsive Joost, that’s how you got into this mess…
The ride down is smooth and calm with the only noise being the gentle hum of the elevator moving. Joost sighs and rubs at his temples, nearly jumping out of his skin when the elevator chimes signaling a stop.
The doors part and a young man around his own age looks up directly at him, a look of mild surprise gracing his face.
“Oh, pardon me,” the man says in English with a polite nod of his head and a smile, Joost snaps to attention to make room in the elevator. “Going down?”
“Uh, yes.” Joost returns the stranger’s smile with his own nervous one. At least he doesn’t have to contend with trying to speak Finnish. “What floor?”
“Three, thank you.”
Huh.
“Ha…” Joost tries to play it off nonchalantly, miserably failing. “Going to the ‘casino’ too?”
It’s meant to be a joke, but the stranger grins and Joost can’t help but notice how the genuine it is.
“Yeah, no gambling for me this early though, I’m in enough debt as it is.” He laughs, leaning against the back wall of the elevator, hands in his pockets.
Joost takes in the easygoing aura the man has. He’s dressed much more casually than the Dutchman, relaxed dress trousers and a floral patterned shirt tucked in. His hair is a shade of warm brown and flops rather charmingly in his face a bit, his eyes are a deep chocolate color that hold an expression of bemusement and contemplation. He’s boyishly handsome with a soft smile. He cocks an eyebrow at Joost.
“You must be new here, first day on the job? Don’t worry, the guy in charge is a big softy no matter how much leather he wears.” The brunette chuckles a bit.
“Yeah,” Joost is taken aback, what exactly does he say he does around here? Is everyone in the building one of Käärijä’s people? Are they aware of Joost’s predicament? Is this man even working for Käärijä?! “You could say that.”
Nice one his inner thoughts sneer, Joost tunes them out.
The man laughs and throws him a sympathetic look. “I get it, I’m technically in the Union even if I don’t pull much weight around here…” he pauses a moment and his charming smile takes on an edge of playfulness.
“Well, I guess I do try my best to keep the guy in charge from doing something stupid.”
“Wha-“
DING
Joost and the man both startle a bit at the sound of the elevator reaching its third floor destination, in truth, Joost was definitely more jumpy.
“Here we are, Casino floor!” The man says in a chipper voice. Joost barely hears him, instead watching slack-jawed as the man steps out of the elevator.
There he sees it. Rows and rows of bright colored slot machines, all lights and shiny screens to draw the eye of curious gamblers in. There are tables set up with classy chairs arranged around, the green velvet tabletops are a give away for exactly what their purpose is. Under the glow of the slightly dimmed lights, across the vast polished floors, Joost realizes what this place really is.
A casino.
An honest to God casino.
The man turns and cocks a curious eyebrow.
“You comin?”
Joost barely has time to react before the elevator dings and the doors begin to shut on him. He rather embarrassingly scrambles out into the casino, only getting caught between the doors for a moment and stumbling. The brunette man gives a bewildered chuckle as Joost tries to hang onto whatever dignity he has left, straightening his suit jacket.
“You ok man?”
Joost tries to avoid the concerned brown eyes of the stranger.
“Perfectly fine,” he attempts a neutral look, like he didn’t almost get crushed by elevator doors. “Just a bit tired I guess.”
It’s a lie that he admits a little too hysterically, he’s fucking wide awake now, nearly biting through his own cheek to ground himself. God he needs a cigarette…
“Ah! We were wondering if you got lost!” An excited and familiar accenting voice calls out to him, and Joost sees his unconventional savior striding quickly over to him. “Oh, Bojan is awake too? Good! Just in time for our meeting!”
Käärijä is strolling over to the pair rather nonchalantly, dressed in a more casual look than yesterday’s mafioso finery. He’s in a black button down with the sleeves rolled up and loose black slacks, his hair is a bit messy like he only recently woke up, the remnants of yesterday’s heavy makeup is evident under his eyes which hold the same light and kindness that absolutely does not belong on the face of a cold blooded gangster who carries a .45 in his coat…
“I can’t believe you’re up and dressed already? What is this newfound responsibility streak you are doing?” The brunette man chuckles and meets him halfway as they happily embrace. Bojan, as his name was called out by Käärijä, is a full head taller than the gangster and nearly swallows him up in a warm hug. Joost only lingers on Käärijä’s exposed forearms for a moment as they wrap around the other man’s back.
“Bojan, this is Mr. Klein, the Dutch bookie I telling you about? We grab him in Helsinki yesterday.” Käärijä breaks the hug and ushers Bojan over to Joost who awkwardly holds out a hand to properly introduce himself.
But instead of the introduction he’s expecting, the brunette’s eyebrows furrow as a look of confusion and apprehension crossed his face.
“The Dutch bookie? Like the one you told me about last week?”
Joost’s shred of confidence further dissolves.
“Yes! We got him before Deer-Dick’s men could, pretty stupid of him sending men to the airport.” Käärijä chuckles.
“Diederik.” Bojan corrects, not struggling with pronouncing the foreign name, his eyes never leaving Joost’s. “The Slachter already has people here?”
“Pffft. They always having shitheads around, they not like when I steal their employees.” Käärijä snorts with a mirthful grin. Bojan looks down at the Dutchman’s hand again and hesitates before finally shaking it.
“So, you’re the man with the entire Low Countries mob after you…” Bojan’s expression is one of apprehension, as if the revelation of Joost’s identity is a grim omen on the horizon.
“I’m Bojan Cvjetićanin. Despite what this weirdo says, I am not apart of his little club.”
Käärijä lets out a protesting noise and the two jab at each other with an endearing familiarity.
But Joost’s mind wanders, the mention of Diedereck’s men stalking him at the airport pulls the memory of the first encounter he had with the infamous Slachter…
He’s three months fresh into the job when a raid happens at the bookkeeper’s office. He races to hit the security doors shutter controls when he hears the first gunshot. His coworker, an older man named Bart falls to the ground right before his eyes and Joost tries not to shriek. The second shot is into the ceiling, blowing out a yellow tinted light.
His hands, slick with sweat and shaking with fear can’t throw the security switch in time and before he can even process what is happening there is a larger man in all black complete with balaclava holding a gun under his chin.
“Move and I fucking execute you,” the man hisses in Dutch. “Where are the checks from last month’s matches?”
Joost is frozen in fear, stuttering out pleas for his life while simultaneously running through calculations in his mind about where the check’s are, why someone would want them, and what will happen if he gives them up…
“The checks, now.” the man growls close to his face. The barrel of the gun is warm to the touch as it presses hard under his chin. He can hear another intruder throwing open filing cabinets and ripping open desk drawers, frantically searching.
Joost doesn’t have enough panic left in his body to react to the sound of another gunshot, this time muted and less thunderous, through a silencer. The sound of another body crashing to the floor as the man gripping Joost’s collar whips around to see what happened.
There is a man standing in the doorway. He’s older with a buzz cut of silver and a cold and narrowed look on his face. He’s in a white shirt and grey slacks with a police issued gun belt and holster across his chest. He’s holding a 9 mm pistol with a long silence muffler screwed around the barrel. He’s aiming at the last intruder.
“Must be amateur hour,” he drawls coolly, though not a single bit of emotion crosses his icy gaze. “You wanted the checks from last month? They’re gone asshole.”
The man steps forward and lowers his gun.
“And now, so are you.”
The high pitch shriek of the silenced pistol rings out as the man who was holding Joost wails and falls to the ground, clutching his groin area and curling up. Joost is shaking as he raises his hands and shuts his eyes, praying to someone, anyone, please let this newest psychopath spare him…
“You must be the new guy, sorry about the mess.” The silver haired man says casually as he steps over the corpse of Joost’s fallen coworker.
“Gonna have to move office now, I’ll let Al know you’re in one piece.” He barely regards the trembling bookie as he whips out a pair of handcuffs and manhandles the still living intruder into them.
“Unlike he’s gonna be in about and hour.” The twisted amusement in this man’s voice is enough to make Joost’s blood run cold. He’s terrified to speak up but he forces some shaky words out anyway.
“Y-you’re friends with Albert?”
The man looks up at up with a cocked brow.
“I’m his man on the force, didn’t he tell you?”
Joost shakes his head and the man snorts in response.
“Course not, Al doesn’t share much these days, sometimes privacy is the best armor money can buy.” He pulls out a burner phone in one hand while keeping a grip on the now handcuffed robber’s wrists, the man whimpers in pain as a pool of dark blood begins to form between his legs.
“I’ll call him, let him know he’s got one bookie alive still. Congrats kid, you’re getting a promotion.” The man’s voice is deadpanned and flat, he passes a glance to Bart’s body on the floor with a disinterested huff.
“Don’t worry about him, I’ve got it covered for now. You just hang tight and we’ll get you a new office set up right away, hope you’re good to finish your work for the day, Al doesn’t like to be kept waiting for the reports.”
Joost swallows a lump in his throat, is he actually expected to crunch numbers after almost getting killed today??!
A lesson he would quickly learn under the watchful eyes of the Dutch Mob, do your job by hook or by crook, of you’ll end up in bloody chunks in buckets at a pig farm…
“Names Diederik by the way, though I’m sure you’ve heard me called another name by Al and his pals.”
This time when the man looks at Joost while holding the phone to his ear, his smile is a twisted and malicious thing that makes the bookie shrink in fear-
“Mr. Klein? Helloooo…”
Joost startles back to the present with a waving hand in his face, Käärijä is giving him a confused look while Bojan beside him still has a grim set to his jaw. He quickly rights himself with a shake of his head and an awkward smile, trying to look like he wasn’t just spacing out in the middle of the room.
“A-ah apologies, I’m still a bit tired I guess!” He chuckles out a lie, Käärijä seems to accept it despite Joost’s bad acting but Bojan remains unconvinced.
“It okay! We have coffee and food, you feel better after you eat yes? Come come! We introduce the rest of the Union now!”
He’s being herded away by the shorter man excitedly, Bojan following silently behind.
They head to a set of long tables sequestered off from the main casino floor. The lighting is dimmed just so to give a private and intimate feeling to the locale, thick red velvet drapes block out the sound of bells and music playing from the slot machines. The tables are filled with all manner of foods and spreads, some that Joost doesn’t recognize at all. There are some well dressed staff pouring coffee and serving other beverages to the many guests at the table, each of them unique and intimidating in their own right.
Käärijä takes a seat up at the head of the table, flanked on his right by the familiar form of Mikke, on his left, an empty seat that he beckons Joost over to.
“Come sit! We have a lot to talk about, you want coffee? We can have espresso made too I know the Dutch people’s like this drink…” Käärijä is rambling happily as Joost awkwardly sits down next to him, catching Mikke’s amused smile and roll of his eyes at the mafia boss’s excitement.
“Glad to see you made it Mr. Klein, here you are, ID cards, drivers license, passport and credit cards, if you need anything else let me know and I’ll get it for you by the end of the day.” Mikke slides a sealed envelope over to Joost with a kind smile. The Dutchman thanks him with a nervous nod and smile of his own.
“Th-thanks, I don’t think I’ll need much else but-“ he pauses for a moment, Mikke’s description of the contents suddenly catching him off guard. “Did you say passport?”
“Yes? Is that not something you would want?”
Joost stares blankly back at the blond man.
“Why would-“
“You aren’t a prisoner here Mr. Klein,” Mikke says more quietly, eyes filled with sympathy. “You can leave anytime you want”
“But I hope you stay,” the dark haired man beside him interjects, sharing the same soft expression as his brother. “I promise I keep you safe but I not hold you hostage.”
Joost must look like an idiot the way he gapes at the statement. Like the novel concept of having one’s own personal freedom and choice is en entirely new concept to him.
Until recently it was.
“Ehem, Gonna introduce us to the new kid Kä?”
Joost turns to the new voice, a beautiful blonde woman in a low cut dress and leopard shrug around her shoulders. Her red painted lips are quirked up in an amused smile, though her eyes carry caution in them.
“Ah yes yes! Mr. Klein, this is the Union! Well most of us…” the empty chairs at the table don’t go unnoticed. “Everyone? This Mr. Klein! He’s the big deal right now, we lucky to have him!” The Finnish gangster claps a hand on Joost’s shoulder, jovial and incredibly familiar for someone he just met yesterday.
There is a smattering of various greetings and Joost finds himself dizzy with all the introductions. The blonde woman is Erika, she’s a fellow underworlder, there are two out of the three bald men at the table, clearly not just some lackeys, valued members of the Union instead. There is a tall curly haired brunette with glasses who bothers to get up and shake Joost’s hand, his smile is genuine. There is a man with an impressive beard and massive forearms staring over his coffee at Joost, a young man with stylish wavy and wearing a very trendy outfit, a man who looks shockingly like Käärijä himself until upon further inspection the differences are noticeable, but from a distance he could pass as a body double…his smile is charmingly dopey as he waves silently at Joost.
He tries to avoid the stare Bojan gives him, he’s seated between Mikke and the Käärijä döppleganger, Häärijä he discovers, must be some sort of inside joke…
He has a good enough memory for numbers and equations but the names and faces are a blur after the conversation turns lively, Käärijä himself switching between Finnish and English to his various Union members. All the while, Joost tries not to become the awkward presence at the table. He’s never been at the same table with so many powerful players, let alone the same room. Albert made certain whenever he had his ‘meetings’ people like Joost, lowly workers lucky enough to work off their debts instead of paying in family members or body parts, were never seated at the table, instead stood like lurking and frightened shadows in the corners, only present to place documents before the mobsters when asked or rather beckoned by a glare and harsh snap of fingers…
“You have a first name, handsome?”
He’s startled by the sultry voice of Erika, she’s sitting directly across from him and is making slow circles with her tea spoon in her coffee cup.
“Or should I just stick with Heer Klein?” Her smile is flirtatious and Joost can feel his cheeks heating up from the attention.
“Um, yes it’s-“
“Choost!” An excited voice cuts him off from answering, Käärijä is grinning like the cat who got the cream. His expression shifts to a scowl as Mikke very loudly groans and facepalms.
“How about you let him answer eh? Also your pronunciation is very bad.”
The entire table shares a collective laugh, some more politely than others. Joost is terrified to observe what sort of wrath the gangster is about to bestow upon his underlings for mocking him, but to the Dutchman’s utter disbelief, Käärijä laughs along with them, rubbing the back of his neck with an embarrassed smile.
“Okei okei no more laughing, I know I’m shit with language.” He pats Joost on the shoulder as an apology.
“Sori, you tell them if you want.”
It takes a second for the gears to start turning again, taken aback once again at how…different this experience is compared to his previous employer. But no matter how shell shocked he is, his manners are still present as always. He clears his throat.
“Yeah, as he said, I’m Joost Klein. Just Joost is fine though!” He smiles sheepishly and waves.
What am I in kindergarten???
“That’s what I said….Juice” Käärijä grumbles incorrectly and crosses his arms like a petulant child.
“Nice to meet you Joost,” Erika croons with a sweet and dangerous smile. “Hope you are ready for the chaos this little collective has in store for Europe.”
Joost manages a nervous smile as he is offered a plate of foods and coffee. His nerves about the whole situation disappear with a growl from his neglected stomach, he hadn’t eaten in at least 48 hours at this point, too exhausted to raid the complimentary fridge in his room upstairs. The table falls back into a lively din as he fills his plate and takes the pot of fresh coffee handed to him by Mikke with a smile.
People are talking, laughing, mouths full and jovial and familiar and-
And his mind drifts to a place from his childhood.
<><><>
Throughout the breakfast affair, Joost learns a lot about the Union, beyond what he had already known of course, you don’t get to start up a mass conglomerate in the Underworld in secret…
The Union’s members tended to fluctuate but the addition of the Balkans started to prove the idea was a palpable threat, he remembers the way Albert nearly broke a window hurling his scotch glass at it at the news the smugglers he had in Slovenia had been bought out.
Joost remembers Albert’s reaction but he remembers the numbers more, the Balkan’s mafia were considerably less dangerous than the Low Countries, but what they lacked in firepower, they made up for in resources. Albert and the other Dutch mobs had run a defense racket over them for decades, extorting the eastern countries for money and resources while offering their version of “protection” from the more formidable Russian Mafia. An ethically horrific deal, the Balkans truly had no choice but to agree to it lest they be divided up and stripped for parts.
Until a certain Nordic startup came along.
No one knew exactly how Käärijä was able to buy out the Balkans right from Albert’s nose, but the shake up had tossed a literal grenade into the Dutch operation. Suddenly the eastern countries rallied together with support from the Nordics and various other allies and Al and his friends were tossed out into the snow, receiving warnings from the bosses of the Balkan mob that if they attempted extortion in their territories again, they would be met with a swift response.
Albert had been seething for days, cursing the name “Käärijä” under his breath every other sentence. Joost did well to hide his fascination with the affair, going over numbers and reports late into the night to try and piece together what was happening.
Everyday it seemed like the Union’s influence grew. Countries who had nearly given up on escaping the iron grip of the western mobs suddenly came alive with a new sense of independence, others that had remained impartial and passive suddenly seemed hungry to join the rallied movement and threw resources that even the Low Countries weren’t able to get into the Union’s shared power.
It was new and exciting and Joost remembered how much his heart raced every time he watched the numbers go up.
But it all came to a sudden halt when the historically quiet Norwegian mafia broke their decades-long silence to show interest in the new movement.
The young woman who had been seen leaving a meeting in Estonia was none other than the new boss of one of the richest underworld operations in the world. She started showing interest in Käärijä’s riot against the status quo and the Low Countries knew they absolutely could not
let such an alliance happen.
Albert had put on his best to impress the new heiress, sending gifts upon gifts to her stronghold, buttering up her counsel and her friends in the government. The wind started to blow the other way and Joost knew it was only a matter of time till Albert would sink his claws into her for good.
Maybe that’s why he did what he did. Two billion in assets leaked to INTERPOL had successfully turned the greedy eyes of his boss away from Norway and onto himself. He bought her time, bought the Union time. He bought himself a one-way ticket to Hell itself…
But as he sits surrounded by chatter and energy and unity he thinks maybe there was a bit of vigilantism in his actions after all. This group of insane, death-defying individuals had inspired him.
Yep. He’s lost his fucking mind.
Käärijä must’ve noticed him glancing at the empty chairs because he gives him a friendly nudge and motions to them.
“One is for Tommy,” he says with a long sigh. “He is always busy, but we make a spot for him anyways.”
“The other is for the new Queen of Norway.” His smile is filled with an unshakable optimism. “She come around soon yes? She not want to play with old pervert men from Netherlands.”
Joost chokes on a laugh behind his coffee.
“Anyway, we always have chairs for people who can’t come, because I not want anyone feel like they not welcome.” The Finn rises from the table as one of the bald men joins him at his side, handing him two different phones that he pockets immediately. He offers a hand to Joost, his light grey eyes bright and full of energy.
“Come on, I give you tour of the whole place?”
Joost shyly takes the hand offered to him and stands, the rest of the table too engrossed in their conversations to pay any mind.
All except Bojan, who hasn’t stopped watching the Dutchman like a hawk.
He tries not to focus on it right now, Käärijä is excitedly guiding him away from the group and chattering away in broken English.
“We run whooole business from here! There are many floors yes yes,” he pauses, pondering for a moment. “I show you everything okei? So you not getting lost. I also give you number for my penthouse yes? I write it down-“
“O-oh no,” Joost interrupts holding up his hands in surrender. “You don’t have to do all that it’s not-“
“I do have to do all.” Käärijä states matter-of-factly, “It’s important you are feeling safe here! Safest place in the whole world. Now I need a pen…”
“You can just tell me, I’ll remember.”
Käärijä’s eyes widen and a grin appears on his face.
“Yes you are good with numbers, I forget.” He chuckles and leads Joost to the elevator, motioning for him to join. “You have a really good memory?”
“I guess,” Joost says nonchalantly, adjusting his glasses. “Only for numbers and dates and such, not names unfortunately.”
“Hm. Still, you are super genius! You have a talent, one that has been taken advantage of.”
“Yeah…I guess you could put it like that…”
“Ha, you’re brain too smart for stupid Dutchman’s club. That’s why you able to steal so much from him.” Käärijä smirks, absentmindedly spinning one of his gold rings. “I not want to pressure you to join the Union, but you should know,”
He fixes Joost with a serious look.
“You always welcome.”
Joost swallows and stifles a laugh.
“Like some kind of big family huh?”
Käärijä is silent for a moment, choosing his words carefully.
“No, the Union is not uh-“ he searches for the word “Substitute? For a family. Everyone have a family. We are the people who protect your family.”
Joost doesn’t have a reply to that, slowly starting to understand how insane everything is here in this giant, oblivious and extravagant building.
“Anyway I show you around yes? Many floors with a lot of stuff.” He taps the button for the next floor up, and the elevator dings as the doors slide shut.
“Second floor is just security.” Käärijä says offhandedly, sending a quick text on one of the two phones to an unknown person. “Then I show you office, we have two floors, there is a gym so you can exercise, we have more spaces for people to stay in, when they travel. Oh! And I show you Mikke’s office, but we not go inside because he kill me.” He chuckles good-naturedly but has no doubt the tall blood man would be just as scary as his brother given the opportunity.
“We have a communication command and oh!” Käärijä claps his hands together, the sound echoing in the elevator. “I show you the armory. It’s my favorite place.”
The grin on the man’s face is wild and intimidating, not nearly as threatening as the cold glare he had given Diederich’s men yesterday but still just as intense. Joost chuckles nervously.
“You sure that’s a good idea?” He asks, hoping his joking demeanor is understandable. Käärijä pats his shoulder with a friendly laugh.
“No worry, I not go crazy with guns today,” he pauses, his smirk fading into a sort of contemplative expression. “Just want to show you how safe you are yes? We ready for anything here.”
And it’s a sweet if not daunting sentiment, the elevator dings, and they step off together.
<><><>