im-just-daria

[im-just-daria]

In The Dark Part 2

The Jackal x Reader

Fandom: The Day of The Jackal

Word Count: 3.4k

Summary: You finally make it to Munich.

Warnings: Mentions of murder and dead bodies, threats, stalking, just the usual assassin stuff.

A/N: I know it took me some time. Enjoy the second part :) Feedback is most appreciated, as well as any mistakes you see <3

Tag: @spiderstyles04 tagged as requested <3

Your eyes shot open as the alarm on your nightstand rang loudly. With a heavy sigh, you tapped your phone to stop the ringing and rubbed your eyes as you stretched under the covers of your warm bedsheets. It took you five seconds to remember why on earth you set that alarm in the first place. Today is the first day of juggling full-time pub work and helping a criminal impersonate some German janitor to do whatever he needed. You certainly didn't want to know more than is necessary for two simple reasons- in case you ever get taken by police, the less you know, the better, and because you weren't sure how well you would cope with the fact that you possibly helped someone in murder.

Your feet touched the cold floor, and you walked to a chair by your desk with more clothes on it than in your wardrobe. You put on a sweater from the pile of clothes and walked to the bathroom. As you were sitting on the toilet, your mind started to replay last night's events. You were surprised at how calm you were; it was actually concerning. 'Wow, my moral compass is so off', you thought as you wiped yourself and stood up. While washing your hands, you suddenly remembered something from yesterday that had escaped your memory. You opened the drawer under the sink and saw the nail scissors still missing; the corners of your mouth moved slightly upwards. You made your way to the kitchen and found the piece of paper with the phone number the man gave you yesterday. You debated whether to text him or not ' I mean, the guy has a gun and knows all your personal details, but at the same time, I do have some questions.'

You bit your bottom lid as you finally decided to pick up your phone. You typed in the number and texted;

"Do I keep the receipts?" you asked, putting down your phone as you wanted to start your breakfast. You hadn't expected him to reply within five seconds. 'Does he not have a life?' you thought with a frown.

''Yes''

''Do I use only cash, or can I use my card?''

''Cash''

''Do you have any allergies? The prosthetic glue sometimes causes a rash:/''

'Fuck', You scolded yourself. You were one of these people who use emojis religiously, so your muscle memory just put it in the message. 'Fucking hell (Y/N), it is a random man who hired you to help him commit international crimes, and you threw in a frowning emoji'.

''No allergies, cash only, go to only bigger stores where it's relatively anonymous, try to blend in, lie if someone asks what it's for. Anything else?'

You felt the passive aggressiveness radiating from the message, but you just couldn't help yourself. There was something so satisfying about annoying this man.

''You didn't give me back my nail scissors.''

He didn't reply immediately, like with the rest of the messages, and honestly, you thought he would just ignore you. You put down your phone and turned on the kettle on your kitchen counter. You heard the notification sound of your phone. You almost sprinted to the phone.

''I will add 5 £ to the overall payment'' You smiled. 'Don't do it, don't do it, don't do it' You lost the battle with your self-restraint.

''But the good ones cost 10 £.''

''You remember I have a gun, right? Do not text or call this number unless it is important, or you will make it from Germany in a body bag. Now delete all the texts.''

'Fine', you thought to yourself as you put down your phone and got ready for your day.

Your shoulder started to hurt from all the supplies in your bag. 'Now I understand the need for backpacks'. Since you haven't seen his face, you weren't really sure what colours of foundations and powders to buy, so you got a few just in case. After all, your life pretty much depends on how well you execute this. As you passed through Vauxhall to get to Waterloo, you glanced at MI6 headquarters and wondered how much they didn't know. I mean, here you are on the pavement across the river carrying supplies necessary for international crime. 'Is it really that easy?' you thought to yourself.

The rest of the week passed by really quickly. If you weren't working, you were working on the prosthetic; if you weren't working on the prosthetic, you were trying to sleep, eat, get groceries or clean the house. Your back was killing you from being constantly hunched over your desk. 'I have absolutely no idea how single mothers exist.' you thought as you tried to stretch in your chair. The whole face prosthetic was done, as well as the wig; you were just finishing up the facial hair when you heard the knock on the door. You weren't expecting anyone, and you didn't order anything. A wave of uneasiness washed over you. You grabbed a scalpel from the desk you used to cut through fake skin and hid it behind your back. You approached the door and looked through the peephole. A delivery man was standing on the other side holding a bouquet of flowers. Now you were nervous; your love life was non-existent, so there wasn't a single person who could send you those. You opened a door hesitantly; you half expected the man to pull out a knife or barge in through the apartment. Instead, he just smiled and asked,'' Miss (Y/L/N)?''

You stuttered ''Y-yes''.

"These are for you." He handed you a bouquet of flowers and an envelope. At first, you simply stared at him, still expecting him to pull out a weapon, but he didn't. You extended your arm and slowly grabbed the flowers and the envelope. You felt sorry for the delivery man. He looked so confused. You looked like grabbing those flowers was a life sentence, and your heavy breathing certainly didn't help.

''Um, have a nice day,'' he said hesitantly and left.

''You too!'' You said a bit too loudly as he was almost out of your sight.

You closed the door and locked it. Making your way to the kitchen, you set the flowers on the counter and opened the envelope.

IN Saturday 19th of April 19.25 RyanAir Stansted-Munich.

OUT Sunday 20th of April 22.45 RyanAir Munich-Stansted.

Premier Inn Munchen Messe Hotel Munchener Str.

Use your card; put everything necessary in the check-in bag. When you get to the hotel, send a text message. You will receive further instructions once you arrive. Don't do anything stupid, or these will be your funeral flowers.

You pulled out your phone and booked all flights and the hotel as the note instructed. The hotel itself was on the outskirts of Munich. You knew you would have to call in sick tomorrow to make this flight. Once all the bookings were confirmed, you ripped the note and flushed it down the toilet. While making your way to the desk, your eyes fell on the flowers you left on the counter. Your lips twitched upwards as you approached them. They were really beautiful. You filled a vase with water and smelled the bouquet before putting it in the glass. You moved them to the living room so they could get some sunlight. You were determined to keep them alive as long as possible. You let out a laugh as you realised that the first flowers you have ever received from a man were from a criminal who attached a note with a death threat. You made your way to the bedroom and finished the prosthetic for tomorrow. As you were packing and preparing, a shadow of a smile still danced on your lips.

The flight was as stressful as you thought it would be. You were sure you looked suspicious because every few seconds, you looked around, scouting the airport for security and police. You tried telling yourself that you had absolutely nothing illegal in the suitcase, which was true after all. Make-up artists travel daily with tons of stuff like yours and don't get stopped by border control. You finally reached the hotel, paid the taxi driver, and entered the Premier Inn. You approached the lady at reception, who smiled at you.

''Hi, I have a booking for (Y/N) (Y/L/N), 1 night'' You tried to calm your nerves and keep a relatively neutral face as you handed her your passport.

"Of course," she replied and started clicking on her computer. "Right, here is your key and a letter from your fiance."

You grabbed both items as well as your passport, to be honest; after the flowers, you expected him to pull some shit like this. 'What a psychopath, he really is enjoying this, isn't he? At least now I know he won't break into my room at night.'

''Thank you,'' you replied to the receptionist and made your way to the room. You only wanted to shower and eat, but you knew the envelope was a priority.

You left your bag on the floor, took off your jacket and left it on a chair. Leaning against the desk, you opened the letter.

16.00 Ludwig-Thomas-StraSe 27: The doors downstairs and upstairs will be open. Do not knock; just come in. Wear something with a hood, and make sure your hair isn't visible. Take everything with you; you will go straight to the airport.

Walk, do not use public transport. And try not to look suspicious; you already did a shit job at that at the airport.

''What the actual fuck?'' you actually said it out loud. Was he actually following you at the airport? You shook your head and exhaled deeply. ''This is a fucking joke''. You let out a dry laugh and decided to have a shower and sleep. A realisation hit you as you stood in a bathroom, about to undress. What if he had cameras in your room? A part of you- the logical part- wouldn't be surprised if he had cameras here and in your apartment. But the other part -the weird, unhinged, delusional part- tells you he isn't that type of guy. ''Jesus Christ (Y/N), you don't know that man,'' you scolded yourself and got undressed. It was a very brief and quick shower. Once you got into bed, you closed your eyes and tried to go to sleep. Fifteen minutes into your failed attempts at falling asleep, a phone rang; you immediately recognised the number, and your heart stopped. You accepted the call and said shakingly. ''Y-Yes?''

"Didn't you forget something?" You almost forgot how he sounded. It's been over a week, after all. His voice was calm and smooth, with a British accent dominating his pronunciation. You mentally checked everything you brought with you, nothing coming to your mi- ''Fuck I am so sorry, I forgot to text you when I got here,'' You said quickly.

''I need to know you are making your locations on time; I won't always have a way to track your phone.''

'Oh my God, ' you thought. So, this isn't a one-time thing.

"Um, yeah, that's fair. I have a question, though, and it is rather important," you said, trying to sound confident but failing miserably.

''Make it quick; I don't have time.''

''That's what she said,'' you whispered timidly, immediately regretting the words as they left your mouth. 'That's it. He is gonna hang up now; great fucking job (Y/N).'

Instead, you heard a chuckle on the other end of the phone. You suddenly felt proud of yourself, and involuntarily, your mouth formed into a smile.

''What's the question (Y/N)'' He said in much lighter tone. You felt a bit more confident now, knowing that he actually found you funny.

''Do you have any cameras in my apartment or the hotel room?''

You could almost hear the confusion in his voice ''No.''

''Okay, that's good, yeah, okay,'' you exhaled, and a silence followed.

''Anything else?''

Once again, you lost the inner battle with your self-restraint and grinned as you tried to put in your most seductive voice.

"So," you said, taking a pause. "What are you wearing?" You honestly thought he had just hung up. After about ten seconds, as you were about to check the phone screen, he simply replied, "Good night (Y/N)."

Little did you know, a smile adorned his face as he hung up the phone. A smile that hasn't visited his face in years.

The next day, you checked out of the hotel at 11 in the morning and made your way to a cafe. You had 5 hours before you had to be at the location given to you. You tried to focus on a book you took with you, but after rereading the same page four times, you gave up. You ate your food and drank your coffee before going for a little walk. You really needed to calm down. Munich was much warmer than you thought, you decided to see the city centre rather than sit in one cafe for 5 hours. As it was getting closer to 4 pm, you started to make your way to the address. You followed Google Maps as you saw the right flat complex. The man didn't lie; the doors were open downstairs. You made your way up the stairs, looking for number 27. Your heart started racing as you stood in front of it. 'Just go in. You are wasting time.' You stood outside for the next two minutes before reaching the door handle. You opened the door and stepped into the hallway; you were immediately met with a familiar face you saw 10 days ago; however, this time... it wasn't in the dark.

You knew already he was tall; his face perfectly reflected his usual voice, emotionless, graceful, calculated and confident. Freckles were scattered across his clear skin, and his ginger hair was messy, but somehow, it fit him perfectly. His green eyes were focused on yours. He was leaning against a wall with his arms folded. You closed the door behind me, not sure what to say. He beat you to the greetings.

''Lingering outside someone's door for 3 minutes is rather suspicious, don't you think?'' His eyebrows raised as the sentence left his mouth.

You just stared at him, ''Yeah, um, yeah, it is, and you told me not to be suspicious.''

'Yes, I did'' He said seriously.

You tried your best to lighten the mood ''Soooo, do I get the house tour?''

''No, the bathroom is on the left. Go there and don't leave; set up everything you need.''

''What, is there like a body in here?'' You said jokingly and chuckled. You looked up at him to see his reaction. He just looked at you with a specific look that answered your question.

''Ohhh, okay''. You swallowed and made your way to the bathroom.

'Don't panic, don't panic, don't panic'.

The bathroom was small and didn't have much counter space. There was a chair and a stool. You opened your bag and set all prosthetics and the wig onto the sink counter; all make-up brushes, palettes, foundations, and powders were left on the chair. You turned around to grab a towel behind you when you were met with a familiar build. You gasped loudly, startled. How could he move so quietly?

"You can sit down if you want." He didn't reply; he simply took his place in a chair and looked at you expectingly.

It felt weird. Being cramped with a killer in a tiny bathroom, you wondered if the body lying somewhere in the house belonged to the man you would help him look like.

You began examining his face, your eyes tracing every curve of his face. His eyes never left yours; you guess he still doesn't trust you enough to be this close to you with his eyes closed.

"Your face has a rather unusual structure," your voice hitched as you realised how it sounded. "It's not an insult, just," you exhaled. ''Your eyes, sockets, and cheekbones are very hollow, but your lips are full. I will need to add some extra padding to make it look believable."Your hands were slightly shaking as you waited for his answer.

''Just do what you must. Be done by 8.30.''

You nodded.

His skin was unbelievably smooth, and his eyes still hadn't left yours, examining your every move. As you were working, you tried to explain everything you were doing. However, with the lack of his replies, you felt like you were just conversing with yourself instead.

After two hours of silence from his side, you opened your mouth but hesitated to say the sentence you wanted.

''Did you know that red hair and green eyes occur in only 0.14% of people on the planet?'' Once again, you expected silence, but he replied simply ''Yes''. Well, it's better than silence.

''How did you know?'' You asked, trying to hold the conversation.

''How did you?'' You sighed.

''I asked first.'' It was a childish answer, but a small smile played on your lips.

''My friend told me years ago,'' He said hesitantly.

''That's nice; I learned that in school during make-up classes in my first year,'' you replied calmly, suddenly feeling at ease.

''Did you like them?''

You were taken aback by his question. ''The classes?'' Still in disbelief, he showed interest.

He simply nodded.

''I did; I always found it relaxing; it's like painting or drawing for other people.''

You decided to take advantage of his sudden talkativeness.

''I probably need a name for you, a fake one. I really don't mind; I just can't refer to you in my mind as 'him'.

His lips twitched, and he said, '' And just how often do you refer to me in your mind?'' You stopped all your movement and averted your eyes from his wig hairline you were just fixing to look at into eyes.

You opened your mouth in shock and said lightly, chuckling, ''Did you just make a flirtatious joke?''

''Don't get used to it,'' He said as you added finishing touches to his appearance. His whole demeanour is changed. He seems more relaxed, and his eyes don't seem so controlling. He also didn't flinch every time you touched his face without warning.

''Let's go with Charles.''

You hummed ''Fine by me,''

''Right, all done.'' You said proudly as you stepped back, allowing him to stand up and examine your work in the mirror. You personally thought you had outdone yourself. Maybe the overhanging thought of death if you fuck up had something to do with it, or perhaps you are just that good.

''This is incredible,'' he said, not taking his eyes off his reflection.

Somehow, his praise meant more to you than any compliment you've ever heard from your teachers. 'Yeah, because whether you live or die depends on this,' you explained to yourself, not even allowing yourself to think of any other reason.

''You have a plane to catch; you should go,'' He said, finally averting his eyes from the mirror towards you.

''Yeah, you are right, I'm just gonna pack up. Um, here is a glue dissolver and a brush. Don't rip it, or your face will flare up; ginger people have a lower impact tolerance, so um yeah,'' You said, trying to hold eye contact, but halfway through the sentence, you lost confidence. You simply handed him the bottle and started packing your things. As you were about to grab the door handle, you turned towards him. He was leaning on the same spot on the wall as when you walked in, and you stood in the same place as before. Except this time, the man looked nothing like himself.

''I will transfer the money tomorrow,'' he said once again emotionless.

''Okay'' As you grabbed the handle, you smiled and turned back to him. ''I just want to let you know that I had so many urges to say ginger jokes today, but I didn't, and I think you should know that and appreciate it.''

He stood there like a statue, motionless. After a few seconds, he smiled and walked away.

''Just go home (Y/N).''

You high-fived yourself mentally. Annoying this man was fun, but seeing him smile is even better.

You left the apartment smiling, not worrying about looking suspicious.

[im-just-daria]

In The Dark

The Jackal x Reader

Fandom: The Day of the Jackal

Word Count: 2.107

Summary: Who knew your degree would make you a perfect acquaintance for an assassin?

Warnings: Brief mentions of murder and suicide, threatening, breaking into a house, the usual stuff you would expect from a series about an assassin.

A/N: Hi guys <3, my first fanfiction ever. The lack of writings on this man is very concerning. English is not my first language and there was no beta. Let me know if there are any mistakes or if something isn't tagged properly! Same with warnings missing- please let me know :)

''For fuck's sake'' you mumbled under your breath as you walked down the street. The rain was pouring down as you tried to get to your flat as soon as possible. Working in a local pub in London wasn't the worst until you had to get home on Friday at 1 am after the shift. You finally reached the bus stop and sat down on a little bench, very grateful for the little roof covering the seats. Today was just not your day; for starters, you got an email from your landlord about the rent getting increased soon. Secondly, you got rejected from another job you applied to and on top of all that, one of your coworkers took your umbrella from the staff room. You sighed and shivered as you tried your best not to cry. Your mascara was already ruined due to rain, and your hair was a complete mess, making you look as miserable as you felt.

You stood up as you saw your bus approach, giving a little wave to the driver, waiting for him to stop the vehicle. You smiled at the man behind the wheel, tapped your card against the reader and took your place at the end of the bus. With your headphones in, you looked around the bus and found the exact type of people you would expect to see on a night bus at 1 am on Friday in London. Two heavily intoxicated girls eating McDonald's, making a mess everywhere, some drug addict talking to himself in a corner, a woman crying and recording a voice message and a couple making out on the seats adjacent to yours. 15 minutes later, you left the bus and made your way towards the flat. You lived on the 3rd floor; it was a simple one-bedroom apartment. You unlocked the door and almost ran inside. Leaning your back against the door, you let a few tears run down your cheeks. You quickly removed your jacket and hung it on a wardrobe door to let it dry, taking off your shoes as well. You followed down the hallway to the living room, and as soon as you reached the room, about to switch on the light, you heard a deep and calm voice coming from your armchair.

"Don't turn on the light," you gasped, and your head snapped towards the man. You could barely see his outline; his legs were crossed, and both arms rested against the chair. You could see him staring at you, yet he was not moving at all. Your eyes fell to his right hand, and you inhaled sharply as you saw a gun.

''It is loaded, and the safety is off'' he paused, and you could see him barely tilting his head to the left. ''You won't have time to run, and if you scream, I will put a bullet through your head before you even open your mouth. Your next shift is on Sunday, so my guess is that no one would see your body until Monday morning.'' Your body just froze. You had no idea who this man was or how he knew your work schedule, but most importantly, you had no idea what he could want from you. You felt dizzy and lightheaded, so you managed to stutter out ''O-okay.'' You leaned on the wall behind you, staring at the man before you, waiting for him to do or say something. It felt like ages before he finally spoke up again.

''You graduated from the 'hair, make-up and prosthetics' course at the London University of Arts with a first-class degree; now, at 23, two years after graduating, you still work in a pub after being rejected from theatres and studios. On top of that, you won't be able to pay rent from May, and your best friend is ghosting you again for her boyfriend'' He paused again. ''Oh, and you are starting to get black mould in the bathroom, which your landlord completely ignores.''

You looked away and inhaled deeply. 'This is just fantastic,' you thought to yourself. You have a psychopath in your flat who clearly hacked your whole phone, and God knows what else, listing down all the failures and problems. You knew it was a hard industry to get into when you started university, but you always thought skills would get you to a starting point, at least. You never suspected it to be nearly impossible- every position on film sets and theatres was just filled with people hired because of their friendships or parents. Now, you worked full-time in a pub, and with inflation, you started to struggle with rent even though you were doing almost 40 hours a week. Your best friend stopped reading your messages a few days ago because she got back with her ex, who absolutely hated your guts (all you did was point out to her every time he cheated on her, forgot their dates, and ignored her anytime he was drinking with his mates). So you probably don't have a best friend anymore. You could call your mom, but she would probably turn this situation into blaming you, and your dad left you when you were younger.

All the stress from your life and no one to talk to is starting to rush down. Your job doesn't care about you, nor does your landlord or friends, apparently. And you have probably a murderer in your living room right now. Your vision starts to get blurry with tears again as your breath quickens. You look at the man across the room as he observes you. You just feel so tired and hopeless. A whisper comes out of you, and you hope he didn't hear it- you regret saying it as soon as the words leave your mouth.

"Just shoot me and take what you want." You always thought the phrase 'the silence was so loud' was exaggerated. It wasn't; all you could hear and feel was the silence. The man kept looking at you, observing; you felt almost judged but immediately scolded yourself, ''Why the fuck would I care that a psychopath with a gun who broke into my flat thinks I am pathetic?'' Too many dark romance books- you tried to explain to yourself. Reading about kidnapping and murder is your bedtime read, so of course, you normalised feeling bad about yourself in the presence of someone who can literally end your life. You patiently waited for his reply.

''Excuse me?'' He asked stoically, without any movement. You started to get impatient; it was almost 2 am now, and all you wanted was to get to bed; if he wanted to kill you, he would have done it a long time ago. If he wanted to sexually assault you, he would attack you already, and if he wanted to rob you, he would do it if you weren't home. You sighed and looked at the man ''Just tell me what you want; you clearly made a lot of effort to hack my phone and read through my messages, emails and work rotas. You broke in here with a gun, yet all you did so far is summarise my life and threaten me.'' You said all that in one breath; you crossed your arms as you continued. ''Tell me what you want, oka-''

''I need you to make a prosthetic for me.'' He raised his voice as he interrupted me. You stared at him in disbelief. ''THAT'S IT?!'' You could somehow see the surprise on his face despite the dark room as you nearly shouted. You hid your face in your hands and let out a laugh, all the stress involuntarily leaving your body as you kept laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation. Your first contract after your degree will be to a criminal, that is, if he pays at all or doesn't shoot you after the job. ''I will pay you twenty thousand pounds.'' You went silent within a second. ''It should be enough downpayment for you to buy a property in England, especially since you already have 6,247 pounds saved,'' the man said calmly as he uncrossed his legs and straightened in the armchair. "You also hacked into my banking app?" you asked in disbelief as you started questioning the security systems of my phone and the bank itself. "Believe it or not, but using a variation of the same password everywhere possible isn't the smartest idea,(Y/N)." He said lightly as if he was making a joke. You chuckled, "Fair point, okay, I am in. What kind of prosthetic do you need?" The man took out a folder from the inside of his jacket. He slid across the floor towards your figure. You picked it up, and before fully standing up, he added, ''Go see the pictures in a bathroom, and don't even think about taking the nail scissors from the top drawer of your cabinet; I already took them.'' ''Creep,'' you muttered as you walked down the hall towards the bathroom. ''I heard that,'' the man replied from the living room. You could have sworn you heard him saying that through a smile.

You turned on the light and entered the room. It was a simple black folder with no labels or markings. You slowly opened it and saw 4 pictures inside. It looked like security pictures people would take when starting to work for bigger companies. The man in the pictures looked like he was in his middle sixties; the first picture looked like an identity card, just a simple portrait. The second one was from a side clearly taken by the same company, and finally, the last two were taken from a top and a back. However, they were taken from a street, almost as if the man was being followed by the photographer. ''No doubt who'' you thought. It is a rather complicated prosthetic with all the wrinkles and freckles, but it was doable, expensive but doable.

You closed the folder, left the bathroom and turned off the light behind you. As you expected, the man in the living room hasn't moved. ''I can do it; it will take about 10 days and maybe 5 grand for all the materials.'' ''I need it by Sunday next week; I will pay for all the materials and resources,'' he replied.'' I also need to know what materials to use to apply it.'' You looked at him sceptically as you leaned against the wall on your left side and crossed your arms. ''Have you ever put on a prosthetic? Especially a full-face prosthetic? Because there is absolutely no way you can manage to put it all on by yourself. Especially if you will have people around who know that man in the picture.'' You tried to explain to him, but it was hard to assume what he was thinking without seeing his face. You could only imagine his face remained emotionless. 'Oh, to have the confidence of white men, ' you thought. ''What do you propose then? How long do you think it would take me to learn?'' ''It took me 2 months to learn simple prosthetics and about 9 to do full faces with wigs. So there is no way you can learn it in a week.'' He sighed and leaned his head on his hand, clearly thinking about the next steps. Suddenly you've just realised what you agreed to, for all you know you can help him murder someone! 'No, no, you are just making a prosthetic, just make-up, you are just selling make-up' you tried to explain to yourself. You did very well with gaslighting yourself until he spoke up.

''Fine, you will put the prosthetic on me then. I will leave the folder and five thousand pounds here for the materials and flight tickets. I will let you know later which flights to buy.'' He stood up from the chair; you could see through his clothes that he was tall and lean. All the lights in the apartment were turned off, and he approached you. He stood directly before you, and it was almost possible to make out his features from a close distance. You unknowingly stopped breathing as he spoke up.

''If you tell anyone about this, I will kill you and your mother.'' He took a small folded piece of paper and handed it to you, as his eyes never left yours. ''Let me know if you need anything,'' he said, walking down the hallway. As he opened the front door, you asked quickly ''Wait, where are we flying?''

''Munich.'' He left without looking back.