<span style="color: #BF0000"><span style="font-style: italic">Is it because I'm a bloody mess?!</span></span><br/><br/>Kisho glared at the security person who still kept him under close watch while picking out clothes from the men's section.<span style="color: #BF0000">The hell is his problem?!</span>he though to himself, fighting the urge to abuse his TPD powers of persuasion.  Sure, he may be a TPD agent in a high-end shop but that doesn't mean he couldn't afford any of the shit they sell here.  He was probably earning three times as much as that stupid security guy!  Still, how much more fucked up could this night get?!<br/><br/>Kisho sighed in defeat.  If he thought about it rationally—the reason was simple really. Why he was getting wary glances was exactly because he's a bloody mess!  Of course!  Who would not get worried if they saw a blood-soaked man walk into their fine, clean, high-end establishment right?  But hey, it's not like he was dripping with blood! And most of it had already dried into a clot!  And they weren't his to begin with!  This night has been unkind enough for him.  All he was asking for is some slack!  And the last thing he needed was for society to not give it to him.<br/><br/>These fuckers.<br/><br/>Discerning eyes browsed through the store's shirt line.  There was no need to get all fancy, or stylish, or even pretend he was looking for the most expensive one they had for sale.  Anything plain and dark-colored will do.  Kisho's eyes landed on a plain black shirt, one very much like what he was wearing now.  One glance was enough for him to tell that it would be a snug fit—this should do.<br/><br/>Now for a pair of jeans.<br/><br/>As he moved about the spacious store in search of pants that would fit him, the people who were in the same shop moved away from him like he was ridden with the plague. These snotty, rich bastards probably don't even care that it was the guys like him who risk their lives to save their sorry asses should they achieve the status of Bearers of the Mark.  Not that he cared but.. a little fucking respect would be nice once in a while. Or he could just empty his three clips on all of them and save one bullet for himself? Nahh, not happening.  Rich or not, their lives were really not above his own as far as he's concerned.<br/><br/>Just as soon as he picked his poison, the sound of door ringers clinking caught his attention.  Someone had just come in.  Though he had no plans of paying attention, it became more than just a habit that he<span style="font-style: italic">always</span>did.  It was a tool of their trade in TPD, not something he could just turn off even if he wanted to.  He couldn't care less if it was another rich psycho, just as long as they would stay off his case, they will get along just fine.  Making his way over to the cashier that already had a short line, Kisho waited for his turn.<br/><br/>Now that he had his attention on nothing in particular, Kisho took the time to observe the rather big and fancy shop.  He was not really expecting to see something different but again his sharp (maybe overly sharpened) instinct kicked in.  That very same feeling he had, like there were eyes on him, began to bug him again.  Sure, he was getting glances now and then but this felt different.  Call it a curse, or call it a gift; Kisho might have just developed this keen sense from having lived a harsh life since childhood.  It was not exactly something he was proud of—being able to tell he was being observed—but also not something he hated about himself at the same time.  If he had to describe it, it was a useful gift.  It always made him aware of himself.<br/><br/>Now, just where is it coming from?<br/><br/>If he hadn't known better, one of the best ways to stalk the stalker is to pretend that they were not noticed, then pounce on them when least expected.  It took a year for him to learn the trick from Liz: keep it casual and keep it low profile, look around but don't stare, not too frequent not too less but just right.  If this dude happened to be the one that escaped from Disko Katz, he should be able to pick him out of the crowd based off the mental image he had.  Still, it made Kisho wonder if there was any merit to him being targeted.  Perhaps, but that would remain inconclusive until they actually catch that bastard.<br/><br/>With a smooth motion of his right hand, Kisho pretended to take his phone out of his pocket to check for messages (there were already a few) with the goal of unlocking the thin leather strap that kept his gun secured in its holster in the process.  One can never be too careful.  Turning his head lightly to his right to keep his face away from being obviously seen, Kisho moved along the customer line. Now he had a good angle to view one of the security mirrors without having to move his head much.<span style="color: #BF0000"><span style="font-style: italic">Okay, where are you?</span></span>he mused to himself, relying on his practiced observational skill to pinpoint the source of this uncomfortable feeling of being watched.<br/><br/>Obviously the pairs of people shopping for clothes were out of the question, they were far too engaged criticizing which fashion is outdated and whatnot.  Then he was left with the singles, and there were quite a few of them.  He was carefully observing, searching for that individual until his turn at the register came up.  Not one for smiling casually—especially with how gross he felt—Kisho simply handed over his purchase to the cashier, focused eyes never leaving the security mirror to the top left of the register.<br/><br/>"C-cash or credit sir?" the female cashier asked him warily.<br/><br/><span style="color: #BF0000">The hell is she stuttering for?!</span>Kisho scoffed.<span style="color: #BF0000">"Cash, and please..."</span>he looked right into her eyes with his own serious gaze.<span style="color: #BF0000">"<span style="font-style: italic">Take your time.</span>"</span>he phrased suggestively. Reason? He still needed to pinpoint that person and there was just two more he needed to observe.  Turning just his eyes back at the security mirror, Kisho continued surveillance.<br/><br/>It took him a good minute until he felt satisfied.  There she was, twiddling her fingers lazily among the garments.  From her body language alone, it was obvious how much interest she had with the word fashion in this boutique, it was somewhere next to none that's for sure.  She may be standing a good distance away from the register, blending well with the clothing and all that but.. this really isn't the place the two of them—him included—would normally visit.  She could be armed but he had his gun, three clips total, and<span style="font-style: italic">something else</span>should it have to come down to it.<br/><br/><span style="color: #BF0000">"Found you."</span>he mumbled to himself and turned his attention back to the woman behind the register.<span style="color: #BF0000">"Are we done miss?"</span>he urged her to speed it up.  The woman hastened the process and simply dropped all of his purchase into a paper bag before exchanging bank notes with Kisho.  Taking what was now rightfully his, Kisho took one last glance at the security mirror, that woman in particular.<br/><br/><span style="color: #BF0000"><span style="font-style: italic">Let's see how this plays out then shall we?</span></span><br/><br/>Kisho casually strolled out of the joint—she would no doubt follow—and the moment he stepped outside, the smudge of a very familiar midnight blue to his left caught his attention.<span style="color: #BF0000">"What the..? How the hell..?"</span>he cut himself off in disbelief.<span style="color: #BF0000">"Liz is so fucking gonna kill me!"</span><br/><br/>How in the world did it get here?!  That car was his partner's baby!  Nobody else is authorized to drive it aside from him and his partner.  Liz would not even let their very own TPD mechanics tinker with it!  Kisho gritted his teeth.  Could that woman tailing him have something to do with this?!  No, he was not going to let this one slide.  Perhaps it was time for them to have a little chat.  What does she want anyway?!  Walking briskly towards their car who had miraculously followed him here, Kisho inspected it briefly for any damages before he plopped the paper bag on the hood and rested his back on the passenger-side door.  With his mind set to talk to this shady individual, Kisho crossed both arms before his chest, ready to draw his sidearm should the need arise.<br/><br/><span style="color: #BF0000">"Any moment now..."</span>he whispered to himself, eyes trained on the boutique's doors that was bound to open soon.