Will - Thirty

It had been a freaking week that Will spent in that house. A freaking week where Nico was either locked in a room, or no where to be found.

It had also been a week since Will's training. Since he had first saw the pictures Nico took from the house. As for why he took them, Will still wasn't sure.

He shrugged it off as some mass murderer tradition.

Sitting on his cot, he let out a huff of frustration. His legs ached from his earlier pacing, eyes stinging from lack of sleep. Each blink caused him pain.

"Why do you two look so similar?" Will asked, the picture he collected quickly in front of his face.

Then.

He had it.

"Wait. . . Is he–" Before Will could finish talking to himself, the door swung open.

"Hey." Nico greeted. Mask up and emotions in voice gone.

"H-hi." Will stammered.

"What's that?" Nico then questioned, pointing to the photo. "A photo of my mom." Will lied.

"How'd you get it?" The Italian challenged.

Will, caught up in his lie, only lied more.

"Found it with my old clothes."

Nico hummed in approval and then let out a small breath. "Ready for your next mission?" He questioned.

"Training?" Will asked.

Nico shook his head.

"You only need to train once." He stated, like it was obvious.

"Why?" Will was confused.

"Because if you aren't good enough the first time. You die." Nico said bluntly as he tugged on Will's forearm.

"Let's go Cyanide."

A/n:
UPDATE!! YAYYYY!!!

- Bridget