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Victor walks up the stairs to your apartment. It just so happens that he's found himself with an unexpected bit of free time despite his busy schedule, and he thought he'd drop in and surprise you. Victor knocks on the door to your apartment. Rather than it swinging open to reveal you standing on the other side like usual, Victor instead hears your voice call from within the apartment that the door was unlocked and to come in. He frowns. It's not that he expects you to get up and open the door for him, but it was rather unlike you. He turns the knob to find that the door is indeed unlocked, and he steps inside.
You beam at him from your place laying across the couch, wrapped up in an oversized comforter. "Victor! I didn't expect to see you today, I thought you were still in the middle of a job for Oswald."
The hitman shrugs. "Technically I am, but I have a little downtime before I'm needed for the next step of the plan." He takes the opportunity to look you over. You're wearing an old pair of flannel pajamas, the ones with the skulls on them that he can remember telling you he liked. It wasn't all that unusual for you hang around the house in pajamas, but concern flows through his chest when he notices the heating pad pressed against your abdomen. "What's wrong, are you sick?"
You frown in confusion for a moment, before realizing how you must look. "Oh! No, I'm fine. I've just had killer cramps since I woke up this morning." The look on your boyfriend's face doesn't become any less worried, and you smile. "It's that time of the month."
"Oh. I see."
You swear that a hint of a blush suddenly appears on Victor's cheeks, and you can't help but find it adorable.
Victor doesn't look any less concerned at your explanation- if anything, he simply looks more so due to being so out of his element with this particular ailment and unsure of how to help you. He comes to perch on the edge of the couch by your feet, and rests a gentle hand on your ankle. "Is there anything I can do to help?"
You heart floods with warmth at the genuine concern in his voice. He's clearly feeling some level of awkwardness due to his unfamiliarity with this particular aspect of your anatomy, but determined to push through it nonetheless. "You could grab me a couple of Advil from the medicine cabinet, I'm about due for another dose."
Almost before you're even done speaking, Victor jumps up from the couch and disappears from the room. Before long, he's returned with two Advils and a glass of water from the kitchen. He presses both into your hand, then kneels down on the carpet by your head after taking the glass back and setting in on the coffee-table. "Is there anything else I can get you?"
You shake your head, and reach out one hand to cup his cheek. "I'm ok, thank you. Will you sit with me for a little while? I missed you."
Victor nods. "Of course. How do you want me?"
You sit up for a moment so Victor can sit on the couch, before lying back down with your head in his lap. You sigh contently, snuggling deeper into the blankets.
He brushes your hair away from your face. "Do you want me to be quiet so you can go to sleep?"
You shake your head. "Will you talk to me for a little bit?"
Victor resumes stroking your hair. "I met one of your neighbors today on my way up to your apartment."
You hum. "Which one?"
Victor shrugs. "I don't know. Elderly woman. Grey hair. Walks with a cane."
"That must have been Mrs. Santini. Did she seem afraid of you?" You knew Victor would never hurt an innocent old lady, but he had quite the reputation in this town.
The assassin makes an amused sound deep in his throat. "Actually, no. She stopped me on my way inside and asked me to help carry her groceries for her."
You laugh. "She's a tough old woman. You know her apartment was broken into once while she was home? She scared the men away with an old color guard rifle, from back when she was in highschool marching band.
Victor laughs in surprised delight. "I like her already. Do you know her well?"
You shake your head. "Not really, but sometimes she catches me in the hall and gives me Tupperware containers full of food that she's cooked. She tries to pass it off as having accidentally made more than she can eat, but it happens too often for me to believe it."
The hitman nods in approval, pleased that there was another person looking out for you. "I'll have to send her a fruit basket."
The mental image of a beautiful fruit basket turning up on Mrs. Santini's doorstep, with a card signed 'Victor Zsasz', makes you grin.
Victor goes on to tell you about some of the less sensitive details from recent jobs he's been on. Annoying people, near misses, random amusing situations he's gotten into, and you drift off to the sound of his voice.