Seven

"Would someone kindly explain what the hell is going on?"

Alfred exclaimed as he pulled away from Arthur, whose expression was one of pure embarrassment and annoyance combined. The Englishman's face was bright red, and he was inevitably swearing as he pushed away from Francis, who seemed to be trying to hug him.

At least, Officer Jones hoped he was only trying to hug him.

"Ohonhon, Arthur here is one of my best customers. There's not much else to say, chèrie!" He laughed, planting a big kiss on Arthur, who seemed to be even more embarrassed, if possible, as he pulled away.

"Sh-shut up, you bloody frog!"

Arthur whipped around, glaring menacingly at Anya now. The Russian blonde had a sweet, innocent smile on her face, and was sitting at the cracked windowsill. She pushed her hair behind her ears, chuckling softly at the unraveling mischief around her. Anya returned the glare with a smirk, simply shrugging and kicking her feet back and forth.

"You could've easily avoided this had you just let me have my fun with Alfred, here~!"

"Like hell I was going to sit by and let him fraternize with a whore such as yourself!"

"What? Too afraid he's straight for me rather than gay for you~?"

"WHAT?"

Alfred chimed in with Arthur's shock, heat rising in his face. What was that supposed to mean? What exactly was she trying to say? Arthur was in love with him or some form of it? They were close and all, but… not that close. Not to Alfred, anyhow. That would be way too awkward! He snuck a glance at his fellow officer, who looked like he was going to beat either prostitute senseless. The irate, thick-browed man pulled his handcuffs out, glowering at the Russian girl, who looked bored.

"That's an absolutely preposterous notion, you dirty little whore! Now put your hands behind your back; you're under arrest!"

Anya blinked, rolling her eyes and letting the man cuff her without a fight. She winced as he tightened the cuffs significantly, leaving no room for her to pick them. They were uncomfortable as hell, rubbing against her wrists as Arthur pushed her towards the door.

"Now hang on a minute, bro!" Alfred piped up, blocking the doorway. "Why am I not being arrested with her? And after finding out you're a regular, you should be arrested too—!"

"You're really going to believe a prostitute over your own work associate? Just how far gone are you, Alfred?"

"But—"

"It's simple; you keep quiet, I keep quiet. No one has to know about any of this."

"…"

The room was completely silent after that, the two policemen just glaring at each other, the tension between the four human beings insatiably high. Francis had begun tidying up Anya's room per her request, sighing. Whatever was going on between those three was quite climactic by this point, and he clearly hadn't helped things. Anya leaned against the doorjamb, blowing some hair out of her face, expression unreadable.

"So, Alfred, what are you going to do?"

Arthur's tone was impatient, and Anya hissed in slight pain as his grip tightened on her arm. Alfred glanced between the two of them, gulping nervously. His head hurt; he just wanted out of there. Slowly and a bit reluctantly, he stepped aside, making way for them to leave. Anya's eyes widened a bit in shock, and Arthur's glare softened.

"Good choice."

The blonde woman yelped as Arthur pulled her along, out the door. She threw a glare Alfred's way, mumbling something to him. Al's expression suddenly became tinged with confusion, and he felt sick inside, his stomach now in knots. He sat down on the bed he'd spent the night in the night before, rubbing his temples and sighing heavily. He sat there a while, everyone soon gone from the room. He could hear the traffic outside as Anya's words rang in his head.

You cop-out.