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Texting Eve

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‘I still thnik about you’

Villanelle looks down at her phone, confused and mildly concerned. She knows the number, but that only makes it more strange. Eve Polastri was texting her nearly two months after the incident--that's what villanelle was choosing to call it--and seemingly had forgotten how to type.

‘Don't ignore meee’

A minute goes by.


Villanelle blinks down at the screen, not knowing how to respond. She was mad, and rightfully so, but if she was being honest this was quite amusing. And confusing.

After a few minutes of internally arguing with herself, she decided to to respond. Finger hovering over the send button Villanelle hesitates, before shaking her head and hitting send, consequences be damned.

‘What the hell Eve’

Barely thirty seconds pass before her phone starts ringing, nearly causing her to drop it. Villanelle didn't like to admit it when things throw her, but she could honestly say she hadn't been expecting that.

Picking up, she immediately hears Eve’s overly enthusiastic, slurred voice.

“Oksanaaaaaa! You answered!” It comes out as a shout and Villanelle has to hold the phone away from her ear.

“Eve, are you drunk?” Villanelle questions, already knowing the answer.

Eve giggles, actually giggles, before responding sarcastically. “I don't know, are youuu drunk?” Villanelle has to physically cover her mouth to keep from bursting out laughing. Eve was so going to regret this in the morning, and she couldn't wait to taunt her about it.

“No Eve, I definitely am not drunk. You on the other hand,” she pauses dramatically, “that's debatable.” This just sends the raven haired woman into another fit of giggles, and Villanelle can't help but smile. This was the first time she heard Eve’s laugh, and could be the only time she would ever again. Villanelle didn't like that thought.

“Maaaaaybe,” Eve singsongs, “but who cares? Niko isn't here to criticize.” Villanelle pauses at Eve’s mention of her husband, carefully deciding on her next words.

“And how is he?” She asks. Holding her breath she waits for a reply, not wanting to admit that she cared about Eve’s relationship status. (That’s ridiculous, of course she didn't. Or maybe she did. Whatever.)

“I dunno,” Eve replies.“Haven't talked to him since the day I got back from Paris. Don't plan on it either.” She definitely had not expected that, but wasn't exactly complaining about it.

“Oh,” replies Villanelle, unsure what to say for once. “Anyways,” she begins, changing the subject, “what was this about you missing me? I'm not sure I believe it.”

“It's trueeee,” Eve whines, “I do!” She sounds like a little kid, and Villanelle can honestly say this was the weirdest experience of her life, and she'd seen quite a few odd things in her days as an assassin.

“Oh really,” Villanelle questions, a lazy smirk growing on her face. “How much?” She knows this will only piss Eve off, which apparently had become her goal in this conversation.

“Shut up,” Eve huffs. “You're a dick.”

“Eve! I'm wounded,” Villanelle claims, sighing dramatically. “You stabbed me, yet I'm still the dick? Seems unfair if you ask me.”

On the other end Eve mutters something unintelligible, and Villanelle figures she probably doesn't want to know what the angry woman said anyways.

“Whatever,” Eve finally says clearly. “I still think you're an asshole.”

“Eve, language!” Chastises the blonde, thoroughly enjoying tormenting the other. “What did I do to deserve this?”

“Murder,” deadpans Eve. “Lots of it, actually.” This time Villanelle actually does laugh out loud, loving the way Eve always has some sort of sarcastic remark to make. She's the only person who hasn't bored her in awhile.

“Well, you got me there.” Villanelle sighs, admitting defeat. “But you attempted the same thing, so I don't think you get to judge.”

“Did not!” Scoffs Eve.

“Did too.”

“No way.”

“Yeah,” Villanelle says, “stabbings count as murder attempts.

“Says who?” Asks Eve, “the murder guidebook for criminals?”

“Says me,” Villanelle states. “And if anyone would know it's me. I'm a fucking assassin.”

“And a dick,” suggests Eve.

“Shut up.” Villanelle snaps, still smiling despite her annoyance.

“Nooooo,” Eve cooes, “you can't make me.” This is getting ridiculous, and Villanelle loves it.

“Oh, but I could,” Villanelles teases. “I can think of a few ways to make you shut up.” Villanelle’s voice has a suggestive tone to it, and she’s met with silence from the other end.

“Eve?” She calls out, nearly thirty seconds of absolute silence having passed.

“I, uh,” Eve mumbles, sounding a bit frantic. “I have to go.”

There’s the unmistakable click of a phone call ending, and Villanelle is left in silence to wonder what just happened. She tosses her phone onto the coffee table and collapses back onto the couch. She stays that way for a while, before coming up with a brilliant idea.

A few hours pass, she waits until Eve is sure to be asleep. Smirking, Villanelle picks up her phone, sending one last text.

The sound of manic laughter fills the apartment.


It’s ten in the morning, Eve’s head is pounding. She rolls over, dragging the covers with her, and blindly reaches for her phone. The harsh glow of the screen makes her want to retreat further into the blankets, but the notification blinking on her screen makes her jolt upright.

‘We had a nice chat tonight. For the record, I still think you too, baby ;)’

What the fuck did she do?!