“Here baby, take this.” He thrust the pistol into her small hands. She stared down at it, felt the weight, the coolness of the barrel against her flushed hands.
Staring back at him, her eyebrows furrowed.
“I have reasons.” He turned back around and busied himself at the bench.
“A-Adrian..” She stepped towards him, setting down the weapon next to him. “I don’t want anything to do with that.” Her eyes flashed as she realized she was shivering.
“Hm.” He chuckled, pulling on a pair of gloves. “As you wish, babe.”

Later, she would learn his reasons. As the prosecutor read off the evidence; her scarf, found at the scene, soaked in his blood, a shaky, defiant voice mail left on his phone, and her fingerprints, smeared across the barrel of the gun.