Chapter 4: Arrivals

The Organization wasn't your typical workplace. It was isolated, regularly dangerous, and of course illegal, and everyone lived in fear of attracting the attention of the police, or worse, the boss. So Altin's arrival at the office wasn't particularly fun at the best of times...and certainly not when he was running on two hours of sleep while nursing a nasty set of bruises, apologetic as Spot might be.

But today he wasn't the only one sneaking into the office late after an exhausting weekend.

Altin recognized the pretty redhead as one of the getaway drivers Oxendine kept on staff for more complicated jobs. It seemed like she was trying and failing to remember the door combination through what appeared to be a hangover of truly impressive proportions.

"Someone had a fun weekend, huh?" Altin teased as he leaned past her to type in the code. The driver smirked, and looked like she was trying to decide whether to groan or laugh. "Oh, you have no idea...Snickerson, right? The decoy? I'm Kirk, Kirk Ripley."

"Thief, actually, I'm just...new. Ah, Kirk...?"

"My dad lost a bet. Long story, but I need to be drunk to tell it right. So what's a fine, upstanding businessman like yourself doing getting to work an hour late? I mean, I've got an excuse, but you..."

"I don't think the boss would see 'drunken revelry' as an excuse."

"Yeah, you're probably right. I'd better tell her I was in jail..."

It was only much later, as they were debating the relative merits of Kirk's mustang Eastwood compared to Spot (Eastwood won by virtue of not being a sadistic hand-eater) while entirely ignoring their dual tardiness that Altin realized he really, really liked this girl. 

He liked her a lot. She was funny, and gorgeous, and she agreed with some of Altin's more harebrained schemes instead of suggesting he might be a little bit crazy. And she wasn't about to call the police on him for escaping from prison, and thought it was hilarious that he had stolen a zebra "because it was looking at you funny," as she put it. Yes, she was probably his perfect woman--

"Nah, I wasn't always aiming to be criminal scum. My family and I were originally all trainers for problem horses."

Cancel that. Definitely his perfect woman.

"Hey, how about we blow this popsicle stand and you can show me some tips back at your place to get Spot to stop eating my newspapers?"

Altin was never so glad to see someone agree with him in his life.

When they got to the Kirk house, he was accosted almost immediately by a big brown puppydog of a stallion.  This had to be the overly friendly Eastwood.

"Why do all the horses in this town want to eat me...?"

"Oh Altin...if you're done playing with the pretty pony, there's a pretty girl who'd like her turn..."

Instant cure for horse-related distraction, that was.

"...and that concludes the tour, ladies and gentlemen. Please remember to tip your tourguide on the way out."

"Some tour," Altin quipped as he leaned back against the frame of the bed. "You only showed me the bedroom."

"Yeah, but that's the part that counts!"

"I can work with that logic," he murmured, leaning in.

They never did get back to work that day. 

(EDIT: This is Kirk, when she's not making weird faces or standing in profile)