While working, John happened upon one of her performances to a very modest crowd. There she sat, glowing beneath the spotlight behind an upright piano playing a song she’d spent weeks composing. Between the beauty of her smile as she played and the song itself, John found himself fascinated by the prospect of life beyond the one he’d been living for a majority of his life. He wanted desperately meet this beautiful, talented pianist. But that night would not be the night that they finally meet.
“It usually takes a hell of a lot more than one watered down Stella to do me in,” she responds, keeping the glass close to her mouth.
If she didn’t know any better, she’d say he was flirting with her. Comfortable is far from an unfamiliar look for her, it’s part of her schtick.
‘Agent Romanoff is comfortable with everything.’
“Maybe I just like the company.”
“ you’re small. “
john points out, but he knows she’s a professional. romanoff isn’t prone to making mistakes, so he’s sure there won’t be any drunken mishaps. raising the bourbon to his lips, wick swallows a mouthful without much outward reaction. most people don’t stick around john wick because they enjoy his company. “ yeah … maybe. “ the skeptical hitman replies. “ sorry if i’m a bit reluctant to believe that. “
‘ this is SO FUCKED. ‘ ( truth. ) ‘ i don’t even know these guys. ‘ ( lie. ) ‘ i don’t know what you’re looking for. ‘ ( half-lie? )
the guns? maybe. probably not. she was just here to make a pickup, a ROUTINE run, an easy money deal with fairly low-level guys. they’ve been good clients of hers for years, polish jews with laundering services across the eastern bloc, who had decent connections with london and paris traffickers. it’s just metal. all she bought was the metal. NOT THIS SHIT.
the barrel burns and she knows they’ll be a mark, maybe a scar.
‘ listen. there’s cash. on the table. a hundred grand. it’s yours, man, it’s yours. ‘
mob money isn’t any good to him. tracing bills can be easy if you slip a few into the right pockets. “ don’t lie. “ john warns, pulling the hot barrel away from her fair skin. but he keeps his finger trained on the trigger, no longer intending to kill her, but certainly planning to terrify her further until she speaks. “ i don’t need the money. “ he says. “ do better.”
