Eroica counted slowly to ten before standing off of the desk, setting aside his untouched glass of wine, and cautiously approaching the doorway.

"Who is it?"

The answering volley of threats was just as comforting in its familiarity. Eroica lifted the latch and stepped aside, adjusting his bathrobe in preparation for the coming assault. The Major would be much less likely to lay hands on him if there were the possibility of excessive exposure.

Klaus, over the threshhold in less than a second, jabbed a rigid finger at Eroica's chest, scowling. "You dirty interfereing faggot! I have told you a hundred times not to meddle in my -"

"If it can wait until breafast, Major, I would just love to see you in the morning." But the blond's attempts at civil excuses went unheeded as Klaus turned sharply on his heel to slam the door, possibly having realized that midnight visits to barely-clad effeminate men were largely considered unseemly. "Although I'd be quite happy to have you overnight."

"Halfway across the world," the Major continued, after replacing the latch. "There is absolutely no reason why, halfway across the world, you should end up in my goddamned hotel, and less reason for you to be harrassing my subordinates with your idiotic antics. You will explain yourself, or I will leave your worthless brains on the patio."

Eroica glanced a touch sourly at his eleventh-story view. The promised stormclouds had gathered early in the evening, but the rain was holding back. "I came because I heard you were in trouble," he said, playing a strand of carefully mussed hair between his fingers, "But I can't say I expected a more pleasent reception."

"I am not in any -"

"Your contact's been discovered." Eroica smiled, with undertones commonly associated with drawing room trivialities. "More than just discovered, really; I sincerely doubt you'll be able to meet with him tomorrow morning." Sensing Klaus' momentum faltering, he slowed his words. Impact was everything, after all. "I saw them take him."

Klaus was regarding him now with suspiscion, his eyes travelling back into the room briefly. "What sort of nonsense is that?"

"I saw him go with them, this afternoon. Your favorite capo led him right out the front door."

"Amezcua," the Major cursed the name, realtively quietly. He shot a brutal glare at Eroica, and turned to the door. "Stay the hell out of my business."

"Don't you want to find him?"

Klaus looked back over his shoulder. The thief sounded far too pleased with himself, and looked it, too. He stood leaning carelessly against the wall, gazing insolently across the dim foyer.

"What do you know?"

"I have a man follwing them." Eroica tossed his hair back. "I know where they've taken him."

"Then put some real clothes on," the Major sneered, glaring instead at his wristwatch. "If you want to tag along so badly, I will not be responsible for whatever happens to you. You have two minutes precisely to be out in the hallway."

Eroica's smile persisted. He appeared not in the least hurried. "They won't be taking him out of the country until six o'clock this morning, dear," he explained, his expression twisting ever so slightly. "It's only one. And you haven't given me any reason why I should help you in the first place."

The Major smiled. "Because idiot thieves who try to bargain with me get their faces borken," he said, "And I don't give a fuck how many people hear you scream."

Eroica blinked. His face fell, momentarily, and with a swish of blue satin he turned his back on the Major. "Well." He took a seat on the nearest mattress and reached again for his wineglass. "Now I'm certainly not telling you."

Klaus shoved himself away from the door, advancing towards the bed. In the abscence of anything reasonably resembling a lapel he was about to settle for grabbing the thief's hair to drag him calmly out into the parking lot -

"I don't think it would be wise of you to attract too much attention to yourself, dear," Eroica countered dryly, unmoving before the rapid advance. "No matter what you care about how many people hear me scream. It's the quality that matters, really, isn't it? Not the quantity. And I know for a fact that there are quite a few men of a certain quality still checked in." He took a sip of his wine, watching as Klaus stopped himself reluctantly beside the desk. The city's violet nebular reflection was the only light available, but even without so much as that he could have imagined in near-perfect detail the other man's angry scowl. "It would be such a shame if you had to leave in a hurry."

Klaus' fist twitched at his side. He stared for a short moment into Eroica's face and then, relaxing slightly in a strangely automatic fashion, coolly lit a cigarette.

"And you want something. Of course."

Eroica's smile spread into a grin. "I think you know."

Klaus nodded tersely, speaking around his cigarette. "That fucking painting, again. Ugly, useless and expensive - how appropriate. It must have been meant for you." And it was a bargain easily broken; Eroica would have to deliver his side within five hours, and the shipment could be cancelled without any complications fifteen minutes later. "Fine. If it gets you out of my way, take it. I will call right now." The Major pulled out his wallet and reached for the room telephone.

Eroica had the half-open billfold in his hand before the Major had even lifted the reciever, smiling suggestively at his carefully blank countenance as he leaned deliberately across the desk. "You didn't let me finish, Major. I don't want your painting." He cast his eyes down as he reached for Klaus' hand, sliding forward in the most inappropriate way he knew. "This won't cost you a single -"

Abruptly, he stopped. His posture slackened as he snatched the wallet up before his face, which had shifted into something stolid, an expression less blank than guarded. The black leather hung still in his hand.

"Who is that?" His voice was even and his hand steady as he flipped the miniature photograph front to back, and back again.

"That is none of your business. Give it back."

Eroica ignored the order. His face betrayed no more than polite curiostity. "Who is it?"

"Lisa," Klaus grudgingly admitted, putting his cigarette out in the amber plastic ashtray next to the telephone. "Now give it back."

The thief nodded, and set the wallet down onto the desk. He watched their distorted reflections in the darkened television screen beside the dresser as Klaus slid it back into his pocket. The window's glare on the glass cast a thin, white gloss over the distant figures.

Eroica turned his face back to the Major with a more subdued and less hearty version of his mannered smile. His eyes were settled firmly on the screen, laconically poised. "My men are waiting across from the Hotel Polanco," he said. "They know where your contact is, and they're expecting you, I think." He added, as an afterthought, "Good luck, Major."

Klaus nodded. "Thank you." Eroica eyed his reflection as it slipped back to the door, lifted the latch, and left. He sat without moving for a moment, listening for the rain outside or the Major's quickly departing footfalls, and then finished his wine as casually as if someone were still watching.