Knock, knock, knock.
Dean Jitters cracked a magenta eye open at the intrusion. He rolled on his side and hunched his broad shoulders to their limit, hoping to shield his ears from anymore noises. He closed both eyes again and waited for sleep to take him once more.
Knock, knock, knock.
Ash-blonde lashes curled up at the force of the collision of darkened eyelids as the nuisance took the middle-aged man from his slumber yet again. A hand that was drawn with slight wrinkles and dents of age blindly searched at the wide space behind him and when a soft, smooth and full pillow made contact with his digits, he quickly grabbed it and smashed it against his ear. Now he was certain that no sound will penetrate his hearing organ.
What was that? Must be his stomach. Nngh, too sleepy to get up. He'll just eat in the morning.
That was definitely not his stomach. Were his neighbors playing bowling again?
He didn't have neighbors.
Then what was that rumbling noise?
KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK!
KNOCK! KNOCK! KNO-
ARGH! That knocking noise again, and now there's that cymbal that suddenly came out of the blue and a giant's hungry gut.
Wait a second, what are those pattering noises on the roof?
Oh gosh, it's raining and someone's outside!
Finally wide awake, Dean scrammed about his bed, sending sheets and pillows flying all over. Unknown to him, he reached the edge of the mattress because of his excessive jolts and his sleep-addled mind. As he pushed himself up to sit, he forlornly fell off and landed on his back. Groaning in pain, he carefully hoisted his body up.
"Who in this ugly world would knock in this late hour?" What time it was, he didn't wish to know.
Dean placed a hand on his aching back and as he arched it in a forceful motion, he sighed upon hearing the delicious crack that came.
Right, unwanted visitor outside, probably soaking by now.
Standing up to his feet, this time flawlessly, Dean walked to the oaken door, took the dark brown fedora hat that hung by the wall, turned the knob and made his way out of his room.
His house shop wasn't very large, so it only took a matter of time before he got down to be in front of the only barrier that will open after a matter of time before making his visitor experience the joy of disturbing him in his lovely, peaceful, and quiet sleep-
And what a pretty visitor he has for tonight.
Standing before him was a woman with the an inky-almost dark blue-black hair that flawlessly swam down to her petite waist and danced in synchronized waves down her round hips. She wore an unbuttoned, maroon corduroy jacket that revealed a what seemed like a navy blue t-shirt of some sort, skinny jeans that had a darker shade of blue that outlined her full and strong legs, and a pair of black boots that concealed the thick fabric of her jeans from the midsection of her shanks. She held an indigo umbrella that shielded her from the heavy teardrops of Mother Nature's remorse. He noticed that her apparel consisted of dark and cool colors, making his attention turn to her fair complexion. She was near pale, almost like the sun never touched her.
"This is the place, right?"
Dean, surprised by the stern voice that disrupted him from his observation, were met by the sky blue eyes of the woman in front of him, her face etched with no sort of emotion.
"This is the so-called 'Jitters Shop,' where that old guy who 'got everything you need' lives?"
Dean's infatuation quickly dispersed and turned to annoyance. That was very insulting to say if she was to go to him in probably three o'clock in the morning, especially when he underwent all those pains before getting to the door against his whim and to serve her, if that was what she wanted. He wasn't old for goodness' sake! He was, well, beyond twenty-five and less than forty! Fine, he was thirty-five, but he's not that old.
"Well, yah, and that old guy says get lost and go back home. There's a storm brewing so mommy' s gonna get her butt worrying when she finds out that her little baby's gone off."
The woman quirked a thin brow at his notion, their feelings already mutual even if only a moment's blink has passed.
"Can you at least let me in?" She said, holding in her temper. She knew that knocking past three AM was very unexpected and very uncalled for, and she was ready for any insults or reprimands that would be barked on her face, so she remained quiet and composed, besides, it was not like this is a first time for her.
Dean rested his arm on the door frame and shifted his weight on it. His magenta orbs scanned the woman again from head to toe, suspicion glinting on them.
"And why on earth would I do that? How do I know that I can trust you? that you won't loot anything while I got my back turned on you and making you tea?" He asked, mockery dripping in his voice.
The fair lady shifted the umbrella to her other hand. She tilted her head slightly to the side as she looked at the man on the eyes.
"Because I am a twenty-year-old woman that knows the civil and societal standards of fashion, unlike some crummy, middle-aged man who looks like a mental hospital fugitive that stole a fedora from Indiana Jones." She said bluntly, this time her eyes hovering over the man from head to toe.
Dean froze. He consciously and hesitantly looked at his apparel, and realized that he was still wearing his pajamas. And they were color white, much like the ones those crazy people contained in asylums were sacked in. He looked up again and landed his eyes somewhere else, not daring to meet those sky blue spheres that he was sure would haunt his dreams from then on.
The sharp lady smirked, pleased with the result of what she said, and placed her free hand in the pocket of her jacket. She continued to stare at the man, who's ego she has purposely struck, with the intent to make him uncomfortable under the intensity of her stare, which was working perfectly, seeing him starting to marginally get restless.
Dean pursed his lips and decided to set his eyes on the puddle that was a meter away from the boots of the force he has unintentionally reckoned with. With all his might, he shot a glance at her and felt all the more mortified when he saw that triumphant smirk on her face, mocking him, teasing him, pressuring him, crushing him. With a sigh, his hand forlornly fell to his side and he turned his back on her. He gave her another look on his shoulder.
"Come on in. You'll catch a cold, Miss Baby Girl," he muttered. As an idea came to mind, he immediately placed a hand before the entering figure, instantly halting the woman from moving any further.
When she saw the man turn his back on her, her triumphant look fell to confusion. This guy was going to leave her alone outside? in the rain? in the middle of three AM? He could not be serious! She bet he was angry, furious even; she did hurt his pride. When he called her to enter, ugh, and with that annoying nickname, she eagerly stepped in, though stopped on her tracks when a strong arm was held out before her. She spun her head to look at the man only to see an ominous smirk plastered on his face.
"Ah-ah-ah, not so fast, Mama's girl. May I remind you that my services are not for free." Dean said, his voice flowing seamlessly like silk. He placed both arms on each length of the door frame, blocking the way completely. He felt a sense of dominance as he noticed the height difference; she was approximately a foot lower than him. He was 6'7, and he was always the one to "stand out" in the crowds. His smile widened realizing that they were quite in a close distance, and being this close to her, his nose was suddenly assaulted by her complex scent-feminine, spicy, earthen and minty, all in indistinguishable amounts coinciding at the same time; it was intoxicating.
"What do you want?" she asked, feeling startled and uneasy at the unnecessary closeness. Only a few moments ago, she saw that almost wrinkled face with odd and perverted magenta eyes, but now she saw the face of a man full of bold experience and hidden wisdom, someone dangerous and conniving, and those eyes that spoke volumes of defiance and at the same time fidelity.
Her heart heart skipped a beat.
Dean chuckled. "What's your name?" He leaned in, causing the agitated woman to take a step back.
Upon gaining her composure, the lady spoke, never keeping her sky blue eyes off his magenta ones.
"My name is Diana Triand. Now will you be a civilized gentleman and politely reciprocate the information of your identity?"