"Hey there."
"Hey." Atlas let out his most confident smile, willing to impress Kristine.
"Could you please help me out?" Kristine's sleet, thick cinnamon-brown hair streamed down like waterfall.
The car carefully flipped back onto its four wheel. Sirens were wailing not far away. Black smoke emitted from the engine, transmitting an abnormal hum.
"Congratulations. You passed the exam." Kristine announced, "You're now officially my bodyguard."
Glancing at Atlas's dumbfounded look, she explained. "You see. I'm not as dumb as my father thinks I am. I do know what's going on. It's very obvious when random buff guys in black suits gets shot or stabbed around me. No way can it be a coincidence. It isn't pleasant when people keep getting wounded or nearly assassinated from protecting a person they aren't even familiar with."
Atlas cried. "Am I not a person too?"
"Judging from your performance today, you are extremely capable of protecting me, and yourself. Answering your question, I agree that you aren't a person. It's rare to see a Warrior behaving in such a childish manner."
Atlas squeezed his chest, breathing in air. "Think my heart broke."
"But that's ok. I would rather have a fun bodyguard than someone who hides in the shadow and stalks me all day." Kristine combed her silk hair behind her ear. She reached out her right hand. "I'll formally introduce myself. My name is Kristine Vanellope Summers. What's your name?"
"Atlas."
Kristine walked towards Atlas with graceful steps. She tiptoed, virtuousness shining in her pupil that matched her hair colour. "Don't be so vigilant. I'm just a helpless teenage girl who's defenceless against my father's horrible enemies. May I know your full name?"
'Full name'. The two soft words from Kristine struck him like lightning.
"Sorry Miss." Slight discomfort mete his head, some unfamiliar memories triggered, however, retreating back into the depths of his mind. Frustrated from his inability to retrieve those myopic memories, Atlas declined insistently "As much as I'd like to hang out with a beautiful lady like you, I... It's... I'm lost. Sorry. Why don't we just proceed with whatever you're supposed to do today?"
"Are you ok?" Kristine noticed Atlas's discomfort.
"I'm fine, I'm fine." Atlas hid the ambivalence in his heart. Kristine glowered doubtfully.
"Anyway. I was going to my father's place to find shelter." She lifted up a tiny machine pinched between her finger, "Found this in my room. I think my place is bugged."
Atlas nodded. "Indeed it is. Off to Kane's mansion then?"
"Scratch that idea. I saw an ad recently online. There is a mansion in Anold Street. The best thing is that it has a Swimming pool and many empty rooms. Although the text was really informal and the photo was badly presented, I believe that it will be a wonderful place."
"Yeah sure. I wonder who posted it." Atlas murmured, "By the way Kristine, you might be late for school."
"It's a Saturday.
"..."
Starting conversation on the way home, Kristine laughed at Atlas for his horrible photography skills while Atlas told jokes to change topic and entertain his client.
She selected the left wing on the second floor right next to Iris's, soon getting along with Iris who welcomed Kristine generously through ordering delivery food. A lot of food.
Hugh, who has returned after the fight, chose to live on the first floor, next to the kitchen, and was attracted by the aroma of food. The girls immediately misinterpreted Hugh for a burglar for his intimidating size before Atlas had a chance to introduce him. After that, he was titled 'The Rock' for being bald and bulky.
Hugh and Atlas sat by the table gobbling up the leftovers as giggles chimed from the left side of the mansion.
"When did girls become so sensitive and scary?" Hugh chewed on a dry piece of chicken, "They ate all the good parts."
"I know right. They are so unbelievably talkative." Atlas went along, "It's been a restless day. Get some rest man." They returned to their room. Hugh's on first floor and Atlas's on the third.
[What's this?] Atlas felt a slight thus against his foot. It was a thick calendar, the old type which you tear off everyday to record the date. Only few pages were torn off. He read most recent date: 2002 January 17. [My birthday? Just a coincidence.] Atlas ignored it, kicking it aside as he rolled into bed.
Flipping and kicking, Atlas couldn't sleep. His mind was too distracted by the memories triggered a while ago. What is my purpose? Why did my name trigger such things? These questions muddled his mind. The grandpa clock struck six times, resemblance of a new dawn. Finally, the persistence in searching for an answer began to fight a losing duel against the immense weight that urged him to sleep. Atlas's eyelids dropped.