In the Arms of Oppression - Episode 1: Crisis

"So," I prepare to ask a distracting question. "Tonight's sky seems pretty clear."

"Not now."

I glance at Artyom, an eyebrow raised.

No passerby looks within, let alone pass. It is the middle of the night, after all. With that, I glance at the two a multitude of times. Artyom does his thing with Twilight, trusting I keep each and every onlooker he's unaware of away from the alleyway.

Artyom finishes after some five minutes. An agonising five minutes at that. Whether it was my guilty conscience in play, or the arousal playing with my psyche, I'm just glad he's stopped.

"Your turn," he says, outstretching a hand in request of the suppressed Glock in my hands.

Accept.

Refuse.