A good idea...

Doubtful that I've ever had one, in the eyes of all who spectate. Even all who don't. If I've ever had a good idea in my life—ha, the thought—Allison would likely parade around the school for a week in nothing but duct tape. Ah, that's an idea. A strange one at that, but what's new?

A good idea...?

"Zack?" the cold monotonous voice snaps me out of my trance, and I look almost annoyedly to the source of it. "Well, I guess you're not dead then." The small girl mumbles, kind of disappointedly. "Now, if you will, dismount the table..."

I realize the position that I've probably purposefully placed myself in, and slowly climb down from the pool table, giving a small chuckle. "Y-yeah. Right. Sorry?"

"Sorry...? You've interrupted their game, say something."

"You'd better, punk," a rather large man says, trudging up to me and staring me in the eye. "Get out before I throw you out."

"Apologies, my good, refined sir," I say, nearly eliciting a laugh as I do, "but this table happens to be worlds more comfortable than the comically miniature chairs of extremely low quality that are available. In the name of the Irish Neighborhood Watch of the town of Arsefacey, I hereby commandeer it."

The man turns to Al, saying, "What the heck did he just say? Whatever, I said go."

Allison looks angrily at me, grumbling, "Zachary, this is not what we're here for, so please, desist." I just smile and pat her on the head.

"Yeah, listen to your girlfriend there, and get out before I toss you out by your hair."

"Okay, now that hurt," I pout, putting on a sad face, and caressing my admittedly long black hair. "That's my sister for one thing, and talking about my hair was a low blow. Or... high blow?"

"I'll give you a low blow!" the man grabbed me by my shirt and raised his fist, at which I smiled innocently.

"Getting a little frisky, are we?" I hear from behind us. Right on cue.

"Aiikoooooo!" I shout, leaning back and outstretching my arms towards the girl. She's an attractive woman, although that's not the reason I extend my arms; we couldn't be in a relationship anyways. Alas, romantic relations between assassins and information brokers are generally discouraged, and furthermore just a bad idea. Although I do like to keep her close in case of any information leaks. Right now, this is just me saying hi.

Before you get into an internal confused dialogue with yourself about my being an assassin, yes, that's the case. Best in the business, in fact. Of course, nobody knows that but myself and my victims, who are all—unfortunately for them—kind of tied up with deadness at the moment. Otherwise, I'm just sort of seen as a bit of a weirdo; an Asian, physics defying Daffy Duck who estranges just about everyone from extensive strangeness. Or so I'm told. I honestly don't know what's going on myself half of the time. Or all of the time.

"Hey stupid," Aiko smirks, walking past me and rejecting my hug. Unusually cold... She must be sober. And she probably also has a hangover, from yesterday. And the day before that. And the day before that. And the week before that. And the month before that. Man, that's gotta suck, actually... Maybe she drinks so much to get away from the hangovers.

"You know this twerp?" the big guy asks, gesturing rather aggressively towards me.

"Of course I know him," Aiko chimes, after ordering a beer, "who doesn't?" She comes and rests her arm on the table beside us. "Don't tell me you're trying to rough up my buddy?"

"Well, he's... No, no I'm not." He lets me go, to my—almost—disappointment. And with that, he walks away from the table, saying to his friends, "Let's find another one." Huh. I guess Aiko has that kind of effect on people. Well, she is a bit dangerous, in her own twisted way.

"Aww, Aiko, you're no fun. I thought you of all people would enjoy a bar fight," I murmur.

"Not until after I've had my fill. Then you can go crazy."

"Zack, let's move," I hear Allison say. Yeah, she never did like Aiko much. At least, she says she doesn't. I know that deep down, she's glad to have a... friend... ish... thing.

"Right, right. Thanks Aiko, by the way," I say waving to her. She hums in acknowledgement, and bends over the counter, telling the bartender one of her latest made up stories. Girl's got imagination, I'll give her that. So, about ideas...

What'll be my next idea? I'm sure everyone else can wait to find out.