Fiction: The Introvert Assassin

This August Words for Wednesday prompts are provided by Elephant's Child over here. This week's prompts are some typically Australian phrases/slang.
1. Pull the wool over his eyes; 2. Put a sock in it; 3. Dog's breakfast; 4. Gone walkabout; 5. Six of one, half a dozen of the other; 6. Tell him he's dreaming. Half of these I had to look up but still only end up using two of them - Put a sock in it and Tell him he's dreaming but slightly different.

Fiction: The Introvert Assassin

Six Turner have no patience for talking to people. Sometimes, her eyes veer off to the ground or elsewhere when people talks to her. Some might call her an introvert but she just doesn't like talking to people who have nothing important to say. 
    At times, Six is considered an easy person. Anyone can pull the wool over her eyes or so they believe. As far as she is concerned, her neighbors are not good conversationalists no matter how interesting their secrets are. And they would tell her things even if she declines to listen. Perhaps they believe she can keep her mouth shut, quiet as she is. There are things she would have not liked to know such as her neighbor Mrs. Watchman's secret desire to be an insurance salesperson but she doesn't dare because her husband believes a woman's place is in the home or that her other neighbor, Mr. Bert, dances ballet on the weekend even though he looks like a 'bag of potatoes' which is his own words nor the neighbor facing her house secretly pines for Mrs. Watchman even though he's married. No, it's no fun for Six to talk to people. They usually think she is supposed to be the listener and they, the talker.
    At 64, Six is tired of people altogether. Her last decent conversation was with her husband some thirty years ago. He was half drunk and half mad at the time but at least, he had interesting things to say while he was beating her. But then he keeled over and died of a heart attack from the arsenic she put in his wine. Of course, she have told no one of this because all the things she would like to share about her life is no longer interesting to her. And she cares not one wit about other people's opinion of her - she had enough of that during her thirty-year career. No, she would rather read a book than to have a conversation with another human being.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

On a Thursday night, about twenty minutes until ten, there is a knock on the front door. At first, Six ignores it. But after the fourth knock, she grudgingly puts down her book to answer it.
    An unfamiliar, tall, young man wearing sunglasses, is standing there in his neat, black suit. He takes off his sunglasses and tucks them into his pockets. "Good Evening, Madam. I am an insurance agent for Weneed Company. Would you like to hear about our exclusive plan?"
    Right away, Six says, "Tell me something I don't know."
    The man smiles showing a lot of pearly-white teeth. He replies with, "I tell you you're dreaming."
    "Put a sock in it," Six says.
    "Is that your final reply?" he says, no longer smiling. His blue eye appears a bit too eager.
    "Of course," Six says. "I always mean what I say."
   For a moment, they stare at one another. The man smiles while Six keeps her face blank though with as many wrinkles as she have, he probably thinks she's too tired to do any smiling.
    Inside her pajama pocket, Six's right hand grips the small object. A quiet pop goes off. Still with a smile on his face, the man falls backward. Six lets go of the pistol and pulls her hand out of her pocket. Carefully, she leans over the man and grabs the revolver from his hand and tucks it into her other pajama pocket. Then she drags the man inside her house. Before she slams the door shut, she takes a few glances outside. No unfamiliar vehicles or people about. Lights are off in the other houses aside from their porch lights. Just like any Thursday night.
    Inside her house, Six searches the man and takes out a wallet with a New York State driver's license. A local. She pulls off his left leather shoe and shakes it. A piece of cardstock slips out. Such a rookie move. He should have placed the cardstock inside his socks. With a stench like that, no one would touch those feet. Six shakes her head. They always send freshmen even though they know they might get killed but the very few who survives gets to keep their jobs.
    The cardstock is of high quality in a nice cream color with nothing on it but an embossed oval with a circle in the middle - an eye. Not a government agent but definitely from her former company but perhaps they are using outsourced assassins.    
    For ten years, Six have known they would find her again but they are not going to take her down easy. No, not at all. This time, she will not be so kind. It's her life and she deserves to be left alone. For now, she will wait and then she will play with them. But first, she must take care of the young man. And finish reading her book. And maybe change into a different pajama top, one without a hole in it.