Chapter 137: The Practical Joke III
7 Eastbourne Rd
The pounding on the main door peeved Mrs. Whitehall, and she tottered towards it from her flat in a hurry. The Agency was temporarily closed for lunch, seeing as the boys opted to eat out during their lunch break, and so, she closed the usually unlocked main door just to be safe.
The gray-haired woman’s face creased, looking at the closed door as the hard knocks continued behind it. She thought it was Davies; he always did knock as if it was an emergency--she didn’t like it and lectured him many times before about it. She thought he didn’t listen and was about to lecture him once more; however, it wasn’t Davies on the other side when she opened the door.
But it was Sam, and the fact that she was barefooted and wearing nothing but her lab gown over her clothes in that chilly weather caught the older woman off guard.
Sam’s body shook like a leaf from anger and the cold air; the older woman’s eyes widened in concern at her state. "Oh--dear are you--" Mrs. Whitehall started, but Sam interrupted, walking in the main door immediately and shutting the door close behind her.
"Sorry, Mrs. Whitehall, excuse me--Is Levi upstairs?" She asked in a clipped tone.
"Yes, dear--he came up just minutes ago," the older woman answered, but before she even finished, Sam was already running up the stairs. The older woman shook her head; she knew Levi did something. Enough that the redhead was fuming.
She made her way back to her flat when she heard the upstairs door slam, and she heard shouting. "Oh, dear--" she whispered to herself, pausing halfway to her door. She walked back to look up at the slicked blond’s closed-door from the middle of the stairs. She wondered if she should leave them be or check on them.
"YOU ASSHOLE!" Sam yelled at the Irishman seated on the sofa, looking ahead at nothing. His coat left on the floor, forgotten. His necktie was loose around his neck, and some of his hair was not in place. The blond remained impassive, thinking things thru. He wanted to make her feel as bad as he felt, and his mind searched for words he wanted to say to her.
Sam gritted her teeth in a fury, and she cussed at him again. All the curses she could think of spewing out of her mouth in alphabetical order to define him. She felt mad at the thought that he did it for a practical joke. It was terrible, she thought.