Graze Her Heart

Chapter 3

Trees and buildings flashed by in an indecipherable blur behind the glass of the metro window.
Greya wondered how many people they passed. She wondered how many of them were enemies.

They had been travelling for a while now.
Greya looked to Quin. He hadn't said a word since he gave his name to her.
He was staring out the other window, occasionally looking down at Greya. As if checking she didn't spontaneously combust.

So many questions. So many thoughts.

About him, where they were going. Simple curiosity. She didn't really care as long as she was leaving Berlin.

America.

She had never been to the west before.
A large hypocritical country with large hypocritical people.
She remembered people talking about the nation when she was young. She also remembered those people themselves from her youth to be large and hypocritical.

Quin was clearly American. He didn't seem hypocritical but he was large. Though to be fair, he hadn't said much at all. She studied the shiny metallic rim of the window, lost in thought.

"Hungry?" Came Quin's deep rumble.
She looked up at him.

Why was he helping her? She'd take the help she could get, but what did he want in return?

Everything came with a price. Quin was young. He could get a good paying job and drink in bars on weekends like the guards did.

Either his past was complicated, or he was.
Normal people weren't associated with Jenkov mercenaries, they didn't have to power to access knowledge of anything remotely related to them.

Nodding and looking away, she heard Quin get up. He returned a minute later with a sandwich.
He unwrapped the plastic around it and handed it to her.

"Eat," he demanded. Staring down at her, he may as well have written 'this is not up for argument' across his arrogant, handsome face. As if she would argue about eating after he told him he wa hungry.
Greya frosted her glare at his hard tone but said nothing.

Sampling a few bites, she returned her gaze to him. He was watching her. Again.

"What?" She rose a brow at him.

"What?" He questioned.

"Stop staring, its creepy," she told him, taking a nibble out of the half-decent was sandwich.

"I wasn't staring sweetheart," he said.

"I distinctly remember telling you my name was Greya,"

"That you did sweetheart," He smirked at her.

Greya rolled her eyes. "What are you getting out of this?"

"Out of what?"

"Helping me."

"Cash and an adventure," he said lightly and looked away, but not before she caught sight of his taught jaw.

"Cash?" She asked, finishing her food.

"Its paper money sweetheart," he looked back to her.

"I know what cash is you prick."
He smirked, enjoying how easily he got a rise out of her.

"Cash from who?" She pressed.

His eyes immediately became hard. "Not your business," he bit out, returning his cold gaze to the blurred countryside of Germany.

Greya felt it was very much her business. His tone held a finality that told her further questions wouldn't be appreciated.

Shooting her own window daggers in frustration, she got out of her seat.