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[font "Times" Gweniviere saw the eye roll from the corner of her eye and ignored it, not rising to reply with her own. She could think what she will. The lieutenant liked to keep avenues open, and her question had been met with the contact information she wanted. Now she could proceed with her little pet project. Gweniviere had recognized the woman from somewhere and had asked about it, recognized in turn with her inquisition.
Tucking the piece of paper in her breast pocket, Gweniviere glanced up at Florence's entirely unenthused excuse of herself and she was alone. Blinking a little, she could clearly tell that she had annoyed the other. Was it with her refusal to try her drink? That couldn't have just been it. The two had gotten into one tiff already that day, and this could be a built reaction now. Was the other agent finished with her now, was that what was happening? Apparently she couldn't handle being watched either. Florence wasn't the only one keen to explore her assigned partner.
While she was gone, Gweniviere's hand reached for her cellular and dialed the number for the Corporal. He must have wondered where they had gone, not that that mattered, but it was a thought that occurred to her as she dialed him. It rang thrice before the chemical burn victim answered politely. "[B Dr. Arndt,]" the German began.
"[+gray [B Ah, lieutenant. I was wondering where you had gone.]]"
"[B Not important. I want to know what you've found on Big Brother. Is that an entity or an individual?]" Gweniviere began without acknowledging his tiny attempt at conversive smalltalk.
"[+gray [B Yes, of course. Unfortunately not much. Word on the line is that they aren't a very old organization, and are trying to put their fingers in many pots.]]" the Austrian-American war veteran replied, the shuffle of papers accompanying his words as he must be looking over what printed copies he had gotten.
"[B Are the twins working with you?]" she asked, frowning a little inquisitively, her brows queuing above her eyes curiously.
The man's rheumy eyes turned towards the two young women in question, nodding. "[+gray [B Yes, of course. We have even reached out to the blackhat, but we will see where that gets us.]]"
Three hats on one errand. Apparently they were quite good at staying quiet. That made her wonder if the other organization had contracted Smear in an attempt to forge a referential or allied connection, or an inside glance, at the older, well established group. It was a wonder that they even had the guts. And sending a novice like Florence... either the young woman had a very impressive skillset or they were trying to seem uninteresting. She wouldn't put it past them, but somehow doubted they would go to that length. The woman shifted in her chair, tilting her head back, "[B Hm. Well, please tell me what you get if anything more.]"
He gave her an assurance before continuing, "[+gray [B Lieutenant, there is something that I really need to speak to you about.]]"
Gweniviere frowned, "[B Not now.]"
"[+gray [B I- well-]]" he asked her to come see him later if at all she could. Gweniviere took the phone from her ear and glanced at the time before her eyes snapped up to the grouping of people around her before agreeing to it.
With agent Drake yet to reappear, the food arrived and it sat there untouched as Gweniviere continued on her cellular, grabbing the pad from her pocket and started making notes on this and that, moving through the motions of making note of another sort of... pet project that she had been working on and politely refraining from beginning until the dark haired woman would return.
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Gweniviere glanced up at Florence when she returned to the smile, capping her pen and returning it to the slide pocket in the side of her boot along with the notepad. She need not see what she was working on, and it would be rude to continue, despite that.
The words that first came from the other's mouth made her take pause, fingers wrapping around the pint glass of cider and slowing its ascension to the woman's scarred lips, letting itself down again on the table as she arched an inquisitive brow. Goodness, was she flattering herself? Gweniviere wondered... she couldn't help the little quirk of amusement in her brows at the aside about the waitress, but continued to listen. "[B Why do you think?]" the woman proffered, tilting her head a little. "[B You're not the only one who is entitled to observing their partner.]" she said, taking a sip from her glass finally. "[B Besides,]" she continued, clearing her throat when her voice left her for a moment at the bite of the sour drink. It hadn't ever been as reliable as it once had been after that. The German super soldier swallowed, throat bobbing beneath the scar tissue, and continued, "[B I wasn't expecting you to take both. It was initially an alternative in case you didn't want to have this one.]"
"[B And as you'll find, I imagine, I don't like a lot of people. After so many years doing what I do, you start losing your ability to [i relate] as it were.]" she said, feeling a bit of bitterness creep into her tone at the last, closing out of the file on her cellular and setting it down again, screen black, face down. She frowned a little at herself, continuing mentally, '[i I'm an old woman. I've been alive too long to like people.]' "[B Don't think you're a special case, you're just new to it.]" she returned her gold gaze to Florence. "[B I don't mean to wound nor protect your feelings. Whether or not I do or don't want to be here is moot.]" she inclined her head a little, watching Florence enjoy what seemed like the entire sensation of the food that she was eating. Curous tendency, and she wasn't so sure that the food was really all that phenomenal, really it was difficult to make chips all that spectacular when they were simply potatoes and seasoning. She watched the show of pleasure curiously for the few moments it lasted, letting herself fall silent.
"[B They must be.]" It was almost as if she hadn't eaten anything realistic in a few days. Gweniviere could relate she supposed, by means of recalling how after days in an IV, anything in your mouth after that tasted as heavenly as the body of Christ himself. She frowned a bit at her own reference, feeling the doors in her mind open up to those dark places that she would rather not tread. Not here.
Swallowing a bit in preparation to speak again, Gweniviere continued, "[B If you would have me, I would like to at least bring this to a close after eating.]" It was then that her cellular started to vibrate on the table. Gwenivieres expression pinched into bemused thoughtfulness. [i Surely they hadn't come up with anything yet had they?]
Her voice returned to a conversive tone, if absent, as she added. "[B You don't have to go to dinner if you don't want, as I said it was an invitation only.]" Gweniviere reached out a scarred hand and forearm to take and turn the device over a bit, glancing at what turned out to be a priority text message, which was why it was going off so zealously. Mercifully in German she read what it said underneath the name Felix Arndt, the man she had [i just] gotten off the phone with. Gweniviere's expression remained, deepening a little as she read over what of the message showed on the face. Was this what he was talking about before? It must have been important enough to make him not be able to wait... The few keywords she gathered in her quick glance over made a well of discomfort start. She swallowed and hit the button to lock the screen again and it went dark. Not now.
Thoughtful for a moment, Gweniviere felt anxiety start in her stomach but fought the feeling in the company and the public appearance she was maintaining. The Lieutenant's eyes drifted a bit until she blinked out of the reflection, letting her eyes remain closed for a second, sighing in a tired manner, she closed her lips and tightened her teeth, a muscle leaping in her jaw. Turning her head back to Florence, Gweniviere returned her gaze to the other, arching her brow and letting her eyes fall half lidded in calm question. "[B What was I saying?]"
[font "Times New Roman" It was almost too easy to offend Gweniviere. Florence found herself flustered with the fact, for once not knowing what was too much to say and what wasn't enough. Even when she was just poking fun or making a joke, it was something insulting to the German woman! Honestly, she should've just sat there in silence and stabbed passive aggressively at her milkshake rather than try to make actual conversation. It was fucking frustrating. She liked to talk; it made the other woman reveal things about herself, but at what cost? This whole idea was a disaster. It was evident in the downturn of the pale woman's mouth.]
[font "Times New Roman" Her own mouth opened and closed as she searched for something acceptable to say, instead deciding to just occupy it with what was in front of her. Maybe if she didn't say anything the Lieutenant would fill the space. But the odds were pointing to most likely not.]
[font "Times New Roman" The hostess came back around, handing the tall officer some folded up love letter. Flor tried not to roll her eyes, but she ended up doing it anyway. The hostess was all blushes and nervous glares at Flor as if the caramel-skinned woman would say something in objection or punch her in the face. Going back to the conversation she and Gwen had had in German, maybe the girl had asked Gwen if they were on a date. Maybe that was why she'd come back to give the military officer what looked like her number.]
[font "Times New Roman" The whole situation was starting to annoy her. Dealing with Debby Downer really was an acquired taste.]
[font "Times New Roman" Once the girl left, and Gweniviere decided she was worth paying attention to again, Florence declared a monotone, [+teal "Excuse me,"] and slipped out of her seat, walking briskly to the bathroom. It was empty, and actually had a decent smell to it. She didn't even actually have to use it, instead just opting to look herself in the eye in the mirror.]
[font "Times New Roman" This was a waste of time.]
[font "Times New Roman" No it wasn't.]
[font "Times New Roman" Gweniviere was a lost cause.]
[font "Times New Roman" She was captivating and reserved.]
[font "Times New Roman" There were other, better things she could be doing.]
[font "Times New Roman" What was more important than someone she'd have to trust her life with?]
[font "Times New Roman" The young woman sighed, looking down at her fingers tapping on the counter. She was getting ridiculously frustrated, which wasn't a normal occurrence for her. She could read people so easily, tell what the right thing to say was and what the wrong thing was. Gweniviere wasn't so easy. She'd spent all day observing her and still couldn't tell what the fuck kind of mood she was in.]
[font "Times New Roman" She lost track of how long she'd been in the bathroom, fixing her hair, checking her lipstick, other miscellaneous things. It had probably been the better half of fifteen minutes.]
[font "Times New Roman" Her food was waiting for her, though, when she took her seat again. She gave a slight smile at the sight, waiting for her mood to bounce back to the depths Gweniviere had dragged it to.]
[font "Times New Roman" [+teal "Let's be honest here,"] she started after a moment. She leaned forward on the table. [+teal "If you know you can't stand me, why eat lunch with me? Why ask me to dinner?"] Florence looked up before continuing, happening to accidentally lock gazes with the very same hostess before the other woman hastily looked away. [+teal "If that girl looks at me again like a kicked puppy, I swear to god,"] she mumbled under her breath before directing her gaze back at her companion. [+teal "I digress. Anyway, you aren't as great at hiding your expressions as you might think. I still see the look of irritation, the way your mouth turns when you want me to shut up. You're not going to hurt my feelings if you go."] She doubted if that was what was going to be stopping her. [+teal "If you don't want to be here, you're wasting both of our time."]]
[font "Times New Roman" She picked up a [i chip] from the side of her plate and popped it into her mouth, her eyes rolling back again in ecstasy, neck arched. Then she picked one up and dipped it into her milkshake. Even better. She swore it tasted so good she could just--]
[font "Times New Roman" Flor stopped the train of thought. [i Pure thoughts, pure thoughts.]]
[font "Times New Roman" [+teal "These are really good."]]
[font "Times New Roman" And again she caught the gaze of the hostess. It was like she didn't have anything else to do! No one else to tend to, no dishes to wash...?! Flor swore she could punch her in the face already or something. If she was flirting with Gweniviere, that was just fine, why was she supposed to care? Gweniviere could screw whoever she wanted, look down their shirt, do the lingering touch thing; wouldn't matter anything to Florence Drake. Absolutely nothing.]
[font "Times New Roman" But looking at Gweniviere, Flor could see why the girl would want to.]
[font "Times" Gweniviere's scarred hand raised to rub at her ear absently, dispatching the momentary itch that had seated itself there. "[B Well, you know, almost every culture has some sort of pickled something.]"
Gweniviere felt a sharp twinge of immediate regret, her mouth tightening at the tone she received. Her eyes snapped to Florence, irritation sharpening the lines in her face. The tall woman then adjusted her position in her seat, sitting back and narrowing her eyes. She arched a brow, speaking in a stony, scathing tone. "[B It doesn't matter does it? I have clearly wasted your time.]"
She was honestly shocked that her slight insult had been entirely missed. But the unabashed display of this woman's nerve immediately took down her relaxed mood. It was unwelcome, so she would not continue to extend it.
The lieutenant gave Florence a bare glance and didn't answer. The younger woman didn't need [i everything] replied to her. She should be able to figure it out despite the odd tone she took as if slanting judgment on the snowy haired woman for removing the items from her pocket. She just had to pick at every little thing that the German woman did, apparently. The thought made her shake her head. She was such a strange little thing, for as little as near six foot was in those heels at any rate.
Gweniviere felt not a turn of pity, but a turn of shared sentiment at the other's words, providing an agreeing hum of acknowledgment. She too shared the same, but yet held onto the vague wish more than anything else, that she had been at least when she was a little girl. But, considering the state of Germany at the time, perhaps she really wasn't... the morbidity seemed to have seeped into the very marrows of the German people, after 1919. Mother had always said that nothing was ever the same. She of course didn't know what it [i had] been like. She wasn't even aware that things had changed by the time she was old enough to conceptually notice her world.
It was only in looking back that she realized what had happened. How really awful it was, what the war had really done to them. But there was a very small slip of time in which she had been once innocent, she supposed.
Brought out of her thoughts by the approach of the waitress, Gweniviere's golden eyes moved up to her with a smile and reached a hand out for the alcoholic cider she had ordered, giving an appreciative hum as she took the overfilled glass to her lips first. Sighing and raising her eyes to Florence as she spoke once again.
Initially the woman frowned at her when she tried to proffer the milkshake off to her. "[B It's aright-]" she said, putting a hand up to stop her as she set the pint glass down. "[B No, really.]"
The woman sighed impatiently as Florence went ahead and took charge of her silverware and again held out the spoon expectantly towards her. She frowned again, irritated by the persistence. She had said [i no]. And she was so worried about other people taking advantage of her, basically not taking no for an answer. Gweniviere tilted her head, "[B I'm sure it is, thank you, but I'm fine.]"
The waitress had left and then returned with a little folded paper for the lieutenant, the woman glancing at it, making an attempt to banish the irritation on her face and raised her brows at the woman who gave her a bit of a sheepish flicker of a smile, glancing nervously at Florence, and handed it over to the woman. Gweniviere blinked and received it, unfolding it to herself and then refolding it, slipping it into her pocket. "[B [i Danke schoen.]]" the Lieutenant said to her with a gentle flicker of her own smile before sliding a glance at Florence and slipped the paper into her pocket.
The woman nodded and glanced again at Florence before turning to leave. Gweniviere exhaled and folded her arms across her chest, then returned her gaze to the raven haired woman. "[B Go enjoy it yourself, you made such a big deal about it before.]"
[font "Times New Roman" [+teal [i "Pickled] foods? That sounds more like a punishment than a real food that people willingly eat."] Whenever the young woman went out to eat, she tended to stray in the direction of foods she was at least familiar with. She loved eating the same foods from different countries to taste the literal cultural differences every time. Most of the time, though, while away from home, she bought groceries and cooked in the apartments Big Brother gave her. Always trying to make the national dish and stuff she found online as well as attempting to replicate what she ate in restaurants. It usually turned out very well.]
[font "Times New Roman" Florence wondered what kinds of things went through Gweniviere's mind when she was looking at her. It was a lot of mixed emotions, but sometimes some were prominent. Not yet anything worth noting. It was just interesting to think that she was getting this reaction so early on and the pale woman didn't even know the girl trapped inside Florence. It was sure to be something to behold, all the expressions that would pass over her.]
[font "Times New Roman" [+teal "Thank you for the lesson, Miss Gweniviere,"] the caramel-skinned woman supplied sarcastically. Her eyebrow was quirked up in a look of something that said "okay, add that to the list of things I didn't need to know and don't care about". [+teal "What's so strange about Dutch?"]]
[font "Times New Roman" That wasn't a language that was on her list of requirements. She was supposed to know English, French, Spanish, Russian, German, and Mandarin first and foremost. She was obviously lacking in two out of six, but he progress was good, so Big Brother didn't restrict her to the office to study all day. She did, however, have weekly tests if her schedule allowed it as well as phone calls and immersive experiences. It was like one lone studying abroad session.]
[font "Times New Roman" Flor glanced down at the phone and keys on the table, her look one of curiosity. [+teal "What, they were taking up too much space in your pocket?"] The comment didn't reflect her understanding of the action. She understood that sometimes it was easier to leave things alone if they weren't within an easily accessible range. So even though Flor would've walked over hot coals to answer that phone call, she'd definitely be less inclined to whip out her phone and start playing Candy Crush in the middle of the conversation or meal.]
[font "Times New Roman" Interesting, how they'd ended up here. Making small talk.]
[font "Times New Roman" At the fleeting uncomfortable turn of Gwenivere's mouth, Flor's head tilted as she was prepared to pose a question, but the Lieutenant's demeanor suggested perhaps she was actually wrong and the woman was just fine.]
[font "Times New Roman" [+teal "Oh, I wouldn't be able to call myself innocent if someone tried to force me to. I haven't been in a very long time, assuming I was from the start. To be innocent is to be naive and ultimately easy to taken advantage of."]]
[font "Times New Roman" She reached into her pocket, setting her own phone on the table parallel to Gweniviere's. A simple motion stating she wouldn't allow any more interruptions as long as it was justifiable.]
[font "Times New Roman" The waitress returned shortly with the milkshakes and Florence thanked her, her eyes lighting up at the sight of it. Hopefully the food would be here soon enough! The milkshake looked absolutely delicious.]
[font "Times New Roman" She picked up her spoon and shoved it into the frothy goodness, almost squealing in anticipation. [+teal "You wanna taste it, Gweniviere?"] She moved the spoon into her mouth and her eyes rolled back at the pleasure of it. [+teal "Really, you have to try it."]]
[font "Times New Roman" Florence reached across the table and quickly unwrapped Gweniviere's silverware, drawing out the spoon and swallowing. She promptly stuck it in the milkshake and produced it again to the stubborn military officer. [+teal "Eat it. Come on. It's worth it."]]
[font "Times" Gweniviere listened easily, nodding. "[B Every culture has some sort of abomination. Namely most pickled foods, in my opinion,]" she said, frowning a bit at the thought of some she had come across, especially in Scandinavia. Buried in the ground for months at a time, saturated with the harshest preservatives. That and one specifically she couldn't recall the name of from Japan that often accompanined some sushi dishes. It honestly smelled and tasted as she assumed ammonia cleaner would, with that hint of lemon as it says on the labels. "[B Despite my appreciation of vinegar. But back then, if there's little other way to keep something through the months of winter it does have its uses.]"
She still had that taste of a damned accent in her voice, either Belgian or French or some nonsense. Not French Canadian, clearly, but it bothered her. That meant that the woman, despite her questionable nationality, had spent some considerable time in the U.S.. She was starting to doubt her French aspect, considering the lack of scorn she was receiving in calling her American, but that could perhaps be a result of immigration on her parents side or some such nonsense. But twitching her shoulders as if in a bit of a shrug to herself, Gweniviere let the subject go. It didn't really matter, and despite her outward appearance, this agent seemed to be an introvert. Neither here nor there, and of course wouldn't detail it to her without some long explanation about the woman's mistake that would honestly make her care even less about the answer than before- so why bother trying?
"[B I'm allowed to be amused,]" Gweniviere said, arching a brow, "[B English is a German based language, as much if not more than it is Latin or French. From an English perspective, aside from the pronunciation, German is one of the easiest languages to learn as a secondary tongue.]" She didn't raise her eyes from the menu in her hands as she spoke, glancing it over one last time, but was positive she knew what she wanted to order. "[B I know more English speaking agents who can read it fluently than speak it, and in studying both I've found the similarities.]" Her pale brows then came together over her eyes in a frown, "[B Dutch is the strange one.]"
At Florence's direction, Gweniviere glanced at where her finger was indicating and repeated it to the waitress, who nodded in understanding and jotted it down. She asked one more question to the Lieutenant, who answered politely, waving her off and she left the table. Sighing quietly Gweniviere shifted back into a more comfortable position in her chair, after leaning to the side to dictate to the woman and not linger too close to the offered personal space much as she wished to do otherwise.
The lieutenant's expression quirked in a questioning manner, tilting her head just so as she considered Florence's sudden excitement. She pulled her phone from her pocket and laying it face down on the table, now more comfortable with it gone, and set the car keys beside it.
At the note of being a 'pure, innocent flower' the woman slanted a mixed, fleetingly thin twitch of an acknowledging smile. A twist of internal self-hatred had conjured itself in the wake of the woman's words, Gweniviere allowing her gaze to trail after the retreated waitress. Providing an absent hum of acknowledgment, the lieutenant leaned her chin in her hand for a moment, forcing her voice into a brighter tone than she felt so as not to insinuate her discomfort. It was really an innocent statement, but it had led her to thinking. "[B Certainly not,]" Gweniviere replied, "[B With my job detail, as I assume you are aware yourself in yours, there is no room for that.]"
[i Innocence], she thought to herself softly about those images that the word conjured. Those faces, those hands. It was a broad term and entirely inapplicable to the German as far as she was certain, and it had been that way for a very long time, for any meaning of the word.
[font "Times New Roman" Florence nodded gravely as Gweniviere talked about the food other countries outside of its origin home tried to imitate. The woman seemed to take subjects such as that very seriously--she was a real patriot. Maybe that was why she had such distaste toward the United States.]
[font "Times New Roman" [+teal "[i Some] countries' idea of a food is way off the mark, though. And it's usually really gross."]]
[font "Times New Roman" Florence wanted to ask about the mystery of Gweniviere's eyes. No way that was the natural color; that would be an impossible feat, but they also seemed too real to be contacts. Sometimes you could [i tell] a person was wearing contacts simply because the color didn't match them too well. And, if she could recall, when they met at the club in London, the Lieutenant's eyes were a darker color anyway, not golden. [i Those] had to be the contacts.]
[font "Times New Roman" She dampened her own wonderment by turning her gaze down, deciding she wouldn't ask just yet. That would present the chance that Gwen, an obvious introvert with little to no interest in talking about herself at this point, would shut down. Perhaps even raise her own personal questions regarding Flor. It would be useless in the end.]
[font "Times New Roman" The younger agent's lips quirked up in a sort of smirk at her counterpart's comment, her gaze travelling to the spots in question on her shirt. [+teal "Just say it was an unfortunate accident with ketchup. But I'm sure no one will start a problem with you, a hardened, six-foot-something woman with a usually cold and unwelcoming expression. Besides me, I mean."]]
[font "Times New Roman" Flor managed to look up just in time to see Gweniviere thoroughly enjoying her frustration with the menu--a smile [i and] a little laugh. It was golden. It really was. It almost made her less angry that she felt like a child that couldn't read yet. Almost.]
[font "Times New Roman" [+teal "That's funny to you?"] Even still, she couldn't stop her own little chuckle at the fact that Gweniviere was actually laughing at something she'd done. She moved all of her hair over her right shoulder, running a hand through it before putting her hands back in her lap.]
[font "Times New Roman" Florence could barely keep her laugh in as she watched Gweniviere order the food. It was one part amazing and one part hilarious. The amazing part was how the German sounded falling out of her mouth; it wasn't nearly as aggressive as Flor had originally taken the language to be. The hilarious part was Gwen's terrible [i staring] problem--and she didn't even try to hide it! And it was obvious the waitress didn't mind it--her bending down and getting closer was in itself unnecessary.]
[font "Times New Roman" [+teal "This one if you don't mind,"] the young agent responded as she held up the menu and pointed, first to Gweniviere, then to the waitress. There was a huge laugh behind her voice, but she managed to cage it. It was really too funny.]
[font "Times New Roman" When the woman left to deliver their order, Florence raised her eyebrows at Gwen in both a teasing and a questioning manner. [+teal "Am I witnessing Nietzsche uncensored? Because it's glorious. It really is."] She laughed again, trying not to make it too loud lest the Lieutenant find a reason to get mad at her. [+teal "And I thought you were such an innocent, pure flower."] Another grin appeared on her face, one eyebrow raised suggestively. [+teal "I'm glad I was wrong."]]
[font "Times" The Lieutenant nodded calmly to the other agent's statement, "[B I am aware.]"
She had spent her fair share, honestly more than she preferred, in the United States for various reasons. And each time a shiver of discomfort would cross her shoulders, rendering Gweniviere unable to relax until she had come home. Europe was a friendly shore, even if her position, if anyone found out about her history she would be in even more danger there. Either place she would be in mortal danger if anyone but her colleagues, the few who were classified to be able to know that, were to find out. But Europe was her home despite that fact.
Swallowing slowly she raised her eyes towards Florence again for a few moments, tracing the line of her brow downturned as she tried to read the menu.
Her mouth twitched lightly into a vague smile, "[B Other cultures aren't the only ones that can be appropriated. I've seen American restaurants in a number of countries.]" The woman said, turning the page. "[B It of course won't be the same as in the country, but I often tend to prefer it that way.]"
She glanced at Florence as she pulled out her phone and observed as she answered it. Being a Latin based language, she caught a word or two, but not the whole of the exchange on the woman's end.
Gweniviere's eyes turned downwards, glancing at her white shirt and the spots of blood on it. Her shoulders shrugged a little as it was mentioned, pinching her forefingers together to pluck at the white material. "[B So long as it doesn't become a problem with anyone else, I suppose we're fine.]"
Presently, her eyes trailed up from the menu to watch the pins of confusion pass over the younger woman's face. She did little to keep her smile at bay as she saw her finally set the menu down, laughing lightly as she glanced over it again. "[B I can order that for you.]" she said calmly, "[B I've chosen what I wanted.]"
She started to glance around to seek the waitress, waving her hand gently to catch her attention with the slight movement and gestured her offer. Sighing quietly through her nose, the white haired woman looked at the dark haired woman who had joined her, "[B French dip.]" she replied, shrugging lightly. She didn't feel the need to have an American meal at present at present. Something simple sounded just fine.
When the waitress did approach them, Gweniviere commenced her order, gesturing to the items on the menu and then picked up their alcohol selection, gesturing to something else. The German dripped from her lips in gentle, fluid strings of sentences as she discussed with the attractive woman. In the superficial sense, she wasn't, but Gweniviere appreciated her tall, solid build, glancing over her appreciatively as she continued to ask about their cider selection. The woman leaned closer, the collar of her shirt framing her pleasantly, Gweniviere allowing her golden gaze to trail over her for a moment, the tip of her tongue resting lightly on her bottom lip before she smiled at the waitress again and nodded, seeming to have chosen something.
She then started on Flor's order before hesitating and looking at her, "[B What, uh, flavor do you want your milkshake to be?]" Gweniviere asked, arching a brow at her.
[font "Times New Roman" [+teal "I'll judge your deduction skills when you show me them,"] Flor had responded distractedly as she sort of ran to the front doors of the restaurant. It wasn't running more than a fast-paced walk, but it was pretty much as close as she'd get in those shoes.]
[font "Times New Roman" The woman chose to ignore the comment about being American--it was something she'd come to expect from Gweniviere. She wasn't originally from America, but had spent quite a lot of time there, which was perhaps why the Lieutenant insisted on calling her by the name with such disgusted connotation. What could she say, 'fries' was easier and more fun to say than 'frites' or any other term she'd come to know for the junk she adored. But she wasn't much in the mood to correct her partner--that time would come. Or maybe it wouldn't; Big Brother wouldn't let her expose any past identities, including the one she started her life off with.]
[font "Times New Roman" Gweniviere could have this little victory. For now.]
[font "Times New Roman" Flor glanced up from the menu she was so immersed in to witness the tall German woman speaking to the hostess in low, secretive terms. What they could've been discussing, Flor didn't have the faintest clue--even if she could use her basic knowledge of the German language, she couldn't [i hear] them. She still, however, refused to let the small exchange bother her and instead focused on her menu. The one she couldn't read.]
[font "Times New Roman" [+teal "More hungry than excited,"] the caramel-skinned agent replied after a moment of shooting the menu supremely confused looks. [+teal "American food is often greasy and particularly bad for the body. But the German idea of it and its restaurants is... entertaining."]]
[font "Times New Roman" Florence nodded as if approving her own statement, glancing around. The walls were decorated with barely any space between a window and a picture. It was all very aesthetically pleasing.]
[font "Times New Roman" A vibration rattled against her thigh, causing her to cock a single, questioning eyebrow. Who was calling? But, then again, it could only be so many people.]
[font "Times New Roman" She fidgeted to coax the phone out of her pocket and looked at the caller ID before muttering a barely audible excuse to Gweniviere and holding the device up to her ear.]
[font "Times New Roman" [+teal "Florence Drake."] There was silence on the other end for a moment before a voice kicked in: [i "Your package is ready."] [+teal "Bueno ¿dónde diablos es esta vez?"] There was a bit of chatter on the line with her answer in between sentences. [+teal "No he estado allí todavía. Gracias."]]
[font "Times New Roman" She hung up the phone then and turned a smile on her counterpart as if the interruption hadn't just occurred.]
[font "Times New Roman" [+teal "Work. Follows me everywhere like that blood on your shirt followed you here."]]
[font "Times New Roman" Her eyes trailed down to the menu again, narrowing at the words. There were less pictures than there were menu items... She was trying to translate them into things she knew, but it was difficult; she'd just finished learning Russian and was already jumping into German so soon. She thought she actually knew some of them but then decided she was just psyching herself out before she gave herself the chance to run them through all the languages she had in her head.]
[font "Times New Roman" [+teal "Well, I give up trying to read this. Can I just tell you what I want? Or no... You already know I wanted [i chips] and a milkshake, so just... surprise me with something. Tell the waitress anything."] She looked down at her phone again, putting in a complex password before opening it, typing out a quick message, and shoving the device in her pocket again. [+teal "This whole thing was a lot easier in theory. What are you going to order?"]]
[font "Times New Roman" BB had already sent her knew self to the apartment they gave her. That meant explaining to Gweniviere why she wasn't Florence Drake and wouldn't answer to that name anymore... it would probably be hilarious. While the Lieutenant was highly intelligent, it was obvious she was confused by some of the things Florence could do with ease. Even if the younger agent wasn't looking directly at her, you could tell by the way she breathed. Gweniviere gave away a lot more about herself than she probably even cared to notice, and she didn't even speak much.]
-Well where the hell is it?
--I have not been there yet. Thank you.
[font "Times" "[B Mhm.]" the woman replied, knowing the game that she was playing. Florence seemed to be making an attempt to be neither here nor there, but was not allowing for the changes in her features to be hidden. As such the Lieutenant felt she was on top of the situation. "[B You seem royally engaged to continue prying into me and my thought processes.]" she mentioned, arching a brow. "[B Am I to be interrogated over the meal?]"
She had noted how the dark haired woman had quickly risen to the idea of her [i not] selling herself short as she believed that Gweniviere was saying. That meant that she herself was very confident in her own ability. Certainly she had to be if she was in a similar professional situation to the woman.
She was also noting that the woman was parlaying with her more now than arguing, which piqued the woman's attention in the altered conversational tone. Again she wondered what had transpired to call for the change. Earlier she had been entitled to her walking all over the place wanting to prove herself somehow to the lieutenant when she had brushed her off, it had been so easy to say something and get it snapped back at her, and now Agent Drake was all grins and salacious tone. That meant either Gweniviere had done something to intrigue the woman, unless in general she had somehow piqued the other's interest after her attack earlier, or her actions had simply altered a first impression.
Gweniviere then thought over her own countenance earlier, reminding herself she was working with an [i intelligence] agent, not a military enforcer as she had been for so long. Through her career, Gweniviere had been put on fewer and fewer intelligence and as she referred to them as domestic assignments she had nearly forgotten the immense capacity they had for their egos, she had nearly forgotten how to deal with them. They weren't military personnel, even if she could snap them in two just as easily as someone else. But they were of a different stock.
Gweniviere's expression curled lightly into a predatory, challenging near playfulness as Florence teased more amusement from her. "[B Oh, but those details are so obvious. Do you really think so little of my deductive skills.]"
Closing the door, the woman had hardly locked it when Florence was up and off down the parking lot towards the door. Taking pause, the lieutenant marvelled at the sheer capacity for a total change in focus and personality. She wondered lightly if it was due to an attention deficit, narrowing her eyes a bit before starting off herself. She was still wearing her white shirt, spotted in blood, and her military pants and boots. Glancing down at herself she felt a hesitation just briefly about the appearance but shrugged it off and ran her fingers through her pale hair with a sigh.
"[B They're called chips here, [i Amerikanisch].]" Gweniviere called smoothly, catching onto the regional terminology difference. Aha, she now knew where the woman was from definitively despite that show of hers earlier. The lieutenant briefly wondered if the hiding of her background was due to the negative stereotype that Gweniviere was unafraid of expressing that Europeans had towards Americans. Certainly not all were like that, but the majority of their bloated persons were as such. Or she wondered if it was simply her need for ambiguity, Gweniviere easily relating to that measure.
Gweniviere followed Florence calmly across the parking lot, slipping her hands into her pockets as she gazed up at the sign for the establishment and followed inside. Dipping her head to the maître d' who had greeted Florence, seeking the second individual in the mention of two to be seated, she received a polite smile and gave a flicker of it back. Following to the table that the young woman had been directed to, she turned her head lightly towards the other German woman, taking her aside before she had approached the table and spoke quietly in German with her. The syllables slipped off of her tongue smoothly, gesturing to the placement and then towards the menu in her hand, taking only one hand out of her pocket and gesturing with it.
The hostess smiled and opened it, gesturing to something and Gweniviere smiled politely at her, "[B Danke schoen, maître d'.]" she said, slipping between the pronunciations of both languages and dipped her head in parting.
She slipped into the seat opposite Florence around the table and tilted her head, sweeping the menu off of the smooth surface and opening it in her hands, "[B So, does this look promising? I can't be sure if you're just hungry or enthused for an American themed restaurant.]"
[font "Times New Roman" Gweniviere seemed to be running out of patience to deal with Florence. That was normal, and very much expected, but the taller woman hadn't lasted as long as Florence anticipated. Gwen was a very private woman; it was a wonder she'd let anyone know anything remotely personal about her.]
[font "Times New Roman" A slight smile appeared on the pale features. It was a ghost of an expression, but Flor was still a bit excited to have seen it. Maybe one day she'd pry a full-fledged smile out of her. She'd die if she managed to coax out a giggle.]
[font "Times New Roman" [+teal "I'm not selling myself short on confidence, no."] Her laugh was light but still filled the empty spaces of the car. [+teal "I'm saying you're pretty confident you'll win. You don't think I could do much damage."]]
[font "Times New Roman" The atmosphere of the car was quick to change again. The caramel-skinned agent noticed the flexing of Gweniviere's jaw, saw her hands tightening and loosening on the wheel--she didn't want Flor to see her emote. Like the young agent had guessed, she was a stickler for the rules. She didn't much enjoy impulse or the people who bragged about it, a.k.a. Florence Drake. And moments later, she cemented the thought Flor had thrown into the air a few minutes earlier: she didn't think the younger woman could do much in a fight.]
[font "Times New Roman" Drake thought she could pretty much take care of herself. Being out in the field for months at a time on her own gave you the sort of do-or-die outlook on things. Eat or be eaten, kill or be killed. And so far, she'd eaten, she'd killed. Her will to live never ceased to amaze her despite the events that had occurred earlier in her life.]
[font "Times New Roman" A wonderful speech from Nietzsche on the subject of being hurt. Flor zoned out a little bit, the words taking her back a few months to HQ at Big Brother. They were always giving her psych tests. Everyone had to take them anyhow, but she got them more often for obvious reasons. They had to make sure she was okay, that she really, really, even several years clean, wasn't addicted anymore and didn't want to use again. They had to make sure she wouldn't sell them out. They had to protect their own asses.]
[font "Times New Roman" Which was understandable. It was a necessary evil.]
[font "Times New Roman" The laugh that burst out of her mouth was awkward with a tinge of malicious. She removed her gaze from Gweniviere and instead stared out of the window. [+teal "What gave me away? The panic attack or the ridiculously childlike behavior that makes you wrinkle your nose in disgust?"]]
[font "Times New Roman" It was an unnecessary comment to make, but she couldn't keep it in. She was so used to getting those tired looks, the kind of thing that made someone want to shrink into themselves and disappear. Every time she met someone it was the same thing unless they wanted something else from her. The questions were usually around the same thing: why are you like that? can you stop? when will you grow up?]
[font "Times New Roman" Her bitter expression faded as they pulled into the parking lot, her eyes lighting up like a small child's. Florence rushed out of the car with a huge smile on her face, staring at the architecture and the other cars in the parking lot and even the streets around it.]
[font "Times New Roman" [+teal "It's amazing,"] she muttered to herself more than to her partner. [+teal "Hopefully they have good fries."]]
[font "Times New Roman" Her appearance didn't fit her personality at the moment as she sped across the parking lot in break-neck heels, excited to get into the establishment and [i eat] something. She was absolutely starving. Flor got in before Gweniviere, looking around in awe. A hostess greeted her in the front in German. Flor's own understanding of the language wasn't as good as it should have been, so she struggled to find the words.]
[font "Times New Roman" [+teal "Tabelle ... sorry ... zwei?"] It was a disaster and the mastery of language that an infant could handle, but the hostess understood what she was saying and offered her a smile.]
[font "Times New Roman" Big Brother would really get on her ass if they found out she was this bad at speaking German. And somehow, they always found out everything.]
[font "Times" Gweniviere gave a hum of amusement, "[B Oh, is that so. Well,]" she put her blinker on, smiling thinly. "[B my mistake then.]" The woman noted the heightening of the other's voice at being correct. Ah, so she [i was] one to keep a score. This young woman was a lot easier to understand than she thought. Characteristically, that is. personally, Gweniviere knew she wouldn't get very much feedback in that sense and as such considered that a vague challenge she may or may not pursue. Florence Drake, as she knew her, had the possibility to prove very interesting or incredibly dull and she wasn't certain whether she wanted to expend the energy to find out.
Gweniviere's expression tilted towards amusement, a flicker dancing in her eyes at the mention. Oh, the little woman didn't know anything did she. "[B Well, there's that... but I appreciate the confidence with which you're trying to sell yourself short.]" Her amusement started to trickle to her expression now, "[B Is that a tactic you're trying to employ to make me believe you're not as powerful as you could be?]"
The Lieutenant's eyes slid towards Florence again, noting the long legs that she had folded underneath the Mercedes' dashboard. She was a tall young woman, and Gweniviere indeed appreciated her stature. Being a tall woman herself, she really found appeal in the length of her limbs. She wouldn't ever say she had a preference, Gweniviere often sought littler women for their character. Bound in a smaller body, often matched with they who possessed the largest characters, balanced on the cusp of peculiarity that the taller often found lost in trying to reach the ends of their limbs and control themselves. Of course that wasn't entirely true, but it was a statistically common happening.
Her mouth turned slightly down at the statement. Yes, she had noticed the sheer lack of adherence. At once as she could appreciate the free spirit, Florence's unbidden character was infuriating more than anything. She had flown far beyond intriguing in that sense, and had shifted immediately to pointlessly, childishly frustrating. Congratulations, you've done what you've wanted. The woman's jaw tightened a bit in response to the note, but outwardly she did nothing to express more. She nodded lightly in acknowledgment of the statement. It was true that the lieutenant hadn't completed any single thing herself. Touching upon a multitude of techniques to employ them towards whatever they fit in. But the flippant manner in which the woman [i spoke] of these things, made her hands tighten on the wheel a moment before she forced them to release again.
She glanced in the rear view, "[B I suppose we will.]" Gweniviere considered that for a moment. The super soldier wondering what she intended to do with the other when that time would have come. In the future things changed- so would she bend to her pride and let her augmented strength through, would she [i trust] Florence enough to exemplify it. Or would she hold back and keep her ambiguity- or at that point would it have fallen away? Her countenance was not concerned with the prospect of Drake sparring with her. She had the thought to ignore the invitation entirely, not feeling the energy to spar mentally as well during that time.
She chuckled a little, mirthlessly as she filled the space that Florence had left, feeling her mouth twitch just barely at the mention of the question. "[B Are you so curious.]"
Gweniviere calmly kept her countenance smooth and neutral as Florence ended her curious prodding. She had hit the nail on the head for a surprising number of the statements. The lieutenant felt a feeling of claustrophobia start through her. She shifted her hands on the steering wheel, keeping her eyes on the road. "[B Well, of course you've gotten some right, and some wrong.]" Her golden eyes slid towards the other woman briefly. She took a breath and let it out, shifting her position in the driver's seat. "[B But everyone's been hurt, agent Drake.]" she said, sliding her gaze again towards Florence calmly. "[B Everyone. In this business it's unavoidable. You know that. I know that. And I know for a fact that you've been hurt as well.]" She said, letting that hang for a split second, "[B So I don't really see the significance in bringing that up.]" She shrugged her shoulder a little, making an attempt to keep her voice non confrontational. "[B Unless you're just trying to make me react.]" Gweniviere let her voice drop low as she turned another corner smoothly.
The woman fully expected Florence to try and press her for information, confirmation for what she had suggested. The only thing that Gweniviere had confirmed was the wounding- and that was obvious. There were scars that littered her skin- her face, throat and hands, and for what she could see of the woman's chest through the loosened collar of her button up.
The car turned into the lot of the establishment that Florence had chosen. Parking and looking up at it, the Lieutenant considered it through the eyes of a foreigner, not knowing if it was "good" or not based just upon its appearance. For as long as she had come and gone from the United States she had rarely gone to places like [i this] specifically. It looked friendly, at the very least. But she found herself wishing it was a proper Pub, instead of whatever overly American place this was. But Florence seemed excited, and with that she figured the food would be alright. She shut the engine off and opened the door, unfolding herself from the auto interior. "[B Well, here we are]"
[font "Times New Roman" [+teal "Okay, but if [i you] recall, I asked you to drink milkshakes with me. You invited me to dinner. It's different."] Flor felt a little satisfaction that, at last, she finally said something that was right. Not that she was often wrong, but Gwen always managed to best her with one of her comments. Not this time!]
[font "Times New Roman" Florence's eyes traveled to outside the car as they pulled out of the parking lot, noticing the monotony among the cars: black and practical. That was it; they all looked pretty much the same. Boring.]
[font "Times New Roman" Her foot began tapping against the floor as she adjusted her posture so she wouldn't break her neck looking at Gweniviere. A light chuckle, condescending in its placement but not in nature, escaped her when Gweniviere scoffed at her claim. [+teal "You don't think so? Probably because you're so... well, opposite to me. Tall, longer limbs, probably more graceful... tall. Pretty confident."]]
[font "Times New Roman" It wasn't unusual for her abilities to be patronized because she was smaller than one would expect for someone with such a big mouth. She wasn't too short or too skinny, but just enough that people thought she was a toothpick in heels. She was 5'9" barefoot, but it wasn't like that mattered much when standing next to the German woman.]
[font "Times New Roman" She could've bulked up but she didn't like that look on her.]
[font "Times New Roman" [+teal "Oh, you know."] She waved her hand nonchalantly in a sweeping gesture. [+teal "A little of this, some of that. It's too much at once for me to call it a definite [i discipline]. Some are easier than others... It's probably gone through your head by now that I don't do too well with rules, which is definitely true. So I never stuck with one thing."] The woman wrinkled up her nose and threw some of her hair over her shoulder. [+teal "It's more fun to dip your toes than to completely devote yourself to one thing, in my opinion."]]
[font "Times New Roman" She let the silence weigh in for half a second before adding, [+teal "I guess you'll have to spar with me, then, if you doubt me."]]
[font "Times New Roman" Flor didn't even try to kid herself: the chance of her winning against her counterpart was very slim, but she wasn't one to say no to a challenge even if it looked damn near impossible. And Gweniviere looked absolutely impossible.]
[font "Times New Roman" But even so, the Lieutenant looked at her as if she was a child, in personality as well as in stature. She wasn't. She was perfectly capable of handling herself and this body had done enough damage to others to make it known she wasn't one to be underestimated.]
[font "Times New Roman" The young woman lapsed into silence and rested her arm on the window and put her fist under her chin as she gazed out into the German streets that passed. It almost amazed her how quickly things had changed, just in the span of a month and some days: from London, spilling that drink on Gweniviere in the club, Berlin, being condescended upon, having a panic attack, recovering, going out for milkshakes, escalating it into dinner.]
[font "Times New Roman" It was enough to make her head spin.]
[font "Times New Roman" [+teal "So Nietzsche,"] she began. Her tongue drew the name out like a game before letting it end on a sort of musical note. She dismissed the question she'd been prepared to ask: why'd you get into this profession? because that would usually require she share her reasons as well. Despite how open she might seem about ridiculously personal things with no feasible boundaries, Flor didn't like to talk about herself much. Not the real her, the one that wasn't even named Flor, the one that wasn't worth the dirt on the ground.]
[font "Times New Roman" Her bluish-green eyes narrowed a bit as she fumbled to find a new question to invade Gweniviere's personal space. [+teal "Tell me about yourself."] [i Lame.]]
[font "Times New Roman" A quick smile quirked up the edges of her lips as she got an idea. [+teal "Or better yet: I'll make a guess. Let's see..."] Her fingers tapped at her chin as the thoughts raced through her head in rapid succession. [+teal "You like to be in control. I mean com[i plete] control--you always want to establish dominance. You're easily angered, but you don't like to let it show on your face because that might hint that you care. Can't have that, can we? Hm..."] Flor raised her eyebrows halfway. [+teal "You like classical music over anything with aggressive wording. You like reading certain things, but romance-related stuff is a no. Coffee over tea any day, and probably with a low amount of sugar and creamer. The place you live is bare, perhaps a few novelty things, but nothing with too much personality. You don't really like to dress casual with jeans and a T-shirt. And somebody hurt you. A long time ago, but you still remember it because something reminds you quite often."]]
[font "Times New Roman" Florence let the weight of her words sink in, admittedly satisfied with herself as she searched for an expression on Gweniviere's face. [+teal "Some of that I might be wrong on, but I think I'm mostly right."]]
[font "Times New Roman" If there was one thing she could shamelessly pride herself in, it was her ability to read people. More of a hobby than anything, really. It was interesting to see what kinds of things you could get from people just by watching them, observing them. Paying attention always paid off. Always. And Florence had paid a lot of attention to Gweniviere.]
[font "Times" Gweniviere glanced at her, "[B Well, I've only just started to delve into your character, haven't I?]" she pressed lightly, keeping her tone neutral as she said it. She would allow Florence to take that how she wished to, slanting her a slick grin.
Gweniviere realized her little slip must have sounded odd and shrugged a bit, giving no indication that she was hinting anything about it. She let her eyes fall half lidded. She noted Florence glancing over her and felt a heady trickle of opportunity shift through her, wondering if the woman liked what she saw. The lieutenant arched a brow at her companion, her mouth just lightly twitching into a grin. She was very tempted to make a comment about it, but decided to remain silent.
The woman was used to being examined. If it wasn't her androgynous figure, white hair or tawny golden eyes it was the numerous scars that crisscrossed her face, throat and arms. They were estimated by someone she knew to cover something like 20% of her body, a large percentage of that focused on her throat and chest.
But, taking the chance of the assessment from Drake, Gweniviere did the same, glancing her over again. The other woman had lovely dark hair and caramel skin. The lieutenant's light eyes narrowed a bit as she gazed at her in appreciation. But she felt a tinge of hesitation that dampened it. It was clear that Florence [i knew] that she was beautiful and oft used it as an excuse to, it seemed, act however she wanted.
Her eyes widened in a bit of surprise when Florence answered her, blinking blankly a bit until she seemed to collect herself and tried again. At her second statement, Gweniviere allowed a soft smile to balance on her lips. "[B Oh, but if you recall, it was technically you who had asked me to come with you.]" she said, swinging her keyring around on her forefinger once as the lift doors opened and the taller woman led her outside and to the lot.
Once there, the snowy haired German clicked the button on her dob and the lights went on, flashing pertly on a black Mercedes sedan. Approaching it, Gweniviere unlocked the doors as well and slid into the driver's seat, folding her long legs under the dash. Starting the engine she glanced up around at the mirrors to ensure they were still where she wanted them. "[B I go when I can.]" she answered, glancing at Florence.
The other agent's last statement pulled a sharp, scoffing laugh from the elder woman's lips, giving her a fiercely challenging look. "[B I highly doubt that.]" The super soldier replied. There was a lot that the other didn't know about the woman, clearly by how she had thought that the note about her age was odd. There was a lot that Gweniviere never bothered to tell her partners. She was a seasoned agent that preferred to remain as ambiguous as she could. Having lived as long as she had, it was amazing how things came back to you at random, from people she knew, and people that knew her. It had taken fifty years for her to rid herself of [i almost] everyone who knew her during the second world war. It was incredibly difficult when you were not supposed to exist.
The woman pulled the car out of the lot and started towards the address that Florence seemed to be enthusiastic about. She glanced at the other agent, "[B What's your discipline?]" she asked, curious about what exactly had lent her to that rather [i confident] assumption.
[font "Times New Roman" It felt like Gweniviere just couldn't let her win! Everything warranted some sort of response, but when Flor said something back, she got the sort of look your mom gives you when she says don't eat raw cookie dough but you do it anyway because you think you're such a rebel.]
[font "Times New Roman" Or that was how Florence went on thinking about it.]
[font "Times New Roman" [+teal "I'm flattered that 'entertaining' is the first adjective that comes to mind when talking about me,"] she offered, noting the deeper tones her voice had taken on. It was followed by a secretive smirk. [+teal "You call me 'young woman' as if you're so much older than me."]]
[font "Times New Roman" Her eyes unabashedly gave her counterpart a long once-over. She felt like she was right, Gwen wasn't too much older even if she did act like the aunt that hated the entire family but still showed up to Thanksgiving dinner. Her body seemed pretty young, maybe a few years older than Flor herself, but if she could still laugh at the outrageously childish things Flor did, she surely wasn't that out of range.]
[font "Times New Roman" And besides, some older women could be hot. Like, really hot. Sexy, even.]
[font "Times New Roman" So which category did Gweniviere fit into?]
[font "Times New Roman" Suddenly, and uncharacteristically, ashamed of what had been going through her head, Florence cleared her throat and hoped there weren't any signs of blushing on her face. Not that it was even an unwelcome thought--just extremely untimely. Especially when standing next to the Lieutenant in an elevator. Especially when she was trying to ignore the fact that, once again, she could feel the pale woman's light eyes on her. Like usual. As expected.]
[font "Times New Roman" She forced her brain to switch subjects, focusing instead on the 'problem' at hand: to drive with Gwen or take the car she'd made a fake name for.]
[font "Times New Roman" ]
[font "Times New Roman" [+teal "Of course I'll go with you,"] Florence announced a little too aggressively. She shrunk back from her offensive position; it hadn't meant to come out like that, she'd just been in her mind for most of the way down to the ground floor that she had forgotten about things such as [i volume control]. [+teal "I love things like that. No one ever asks me to go out to eat or anything, it's always just--"]]
[font "Times New Roman" She broke herself off, deciding everyone would be happier if she didn't continue with the rather... vulgar statement. Instead, she flashed a smile. [+teal "You're taking the wheel on this one."]]
[font "Times New Roman" The truth was, the body undressed and shivering with a mix of heat and cold was always more attractive than the person within it--in Florence's experience. No one cared what she thought as long as it all led to the same place: the bedroom. Three exchanges of sentences was enough. Hey, how are you, want to get out of here?]
[font "Times New Roman" She didn't mind much. She used it herself frequently enough to consider herself a hypocrite for thinking it was a shitty thing to do to someone.]
[font "Times New Roman" The young agent followed Gweniviere to her car and set her messenger bag lightly in the back before climbing into the passenger seat and adjusting it accordingly. ]
[font "Times New Roman" [+teal "Do you go to the gym often?"] she started off casually as she inspected her nails before leveling a gaze on her partner. Now she could stare and there was virtually nothing to stop her. [+teal "I have to get a membership since I'll be here for a while and I like to do a little practicing. No one likes to spar with me."] Her smile was furiously predatory. [+teal "I bet I could kick your ass."]]
[font "Times" The woman hummed a low few notes of amusement, the same dancing in her eyes as she led them towards the elevator again. "[B Oh, I'm sure you do.]" the woman said in a low, heady voice. She felt the light bubble of mirthful amusement at the rise to her challenge that she had only meant lightly. My, my she was certainly one not to be bested, wasn't she? This was going to be both incredibly frustrating and perhaps really quite interesting.
The woman had been intending to try the restaurant for some time now and had taken the card with her, keeping it next to her wallet in her pocket. She held out her hand to get the item back again, taking her folding wallet out again from her pocket and slipping it back inside.
The woman hummed absently at the comment, a slick grin reaching gently to the corners of her mouth. She ran her fingers through her short white hair and brushed it back, and then parting it back to the side. "[B Take it how you like, I did extend the invitation.]" she said, turning to look at her companion. "[B And I definitely wouldn't be opposed to an entertaining night with a lovely young woman like you.]" the woman replied, with the same amount of weight in her voice, but lightness enough to suggest it was in levity. Neither here nor there.
Bringing them towards the doors, she nabbed the button and called the lift. Once it was there, she gestured Agent Drake inside and followed after, giving it the proper floor. At least at this point the woman next to her wasn't being infuriating. Perhaps her little spell earlier had given her a bit of a reality check, as it was called. Maybe this assignment wouldn't be as excruciating as she had assumed...
Her mouth quirked to the side, hesitating a bit at the string of attached statements about naming the vehicle. It was odd, and Gweniviere knew that she was mostly kidding, but they were odd statements nonetheless. The lieutenant hadn't come across many who had that... sort of humor. It made it seem like she wasn't taking [i anything] seriously, which honestly itched at the woman's nerves incessantly.
Sighing, she dropped her gaze for a moment to take a half a moment to gather the strength to reply, it seemed. "[B If you have an auto, I'll take you back here if you'd like. Or we can go in separate vehicles.]" she replied, glancing at her as she spoke. The tall woman turned and leaned against the side wall, slipping her hands into her pockets as she let her light eyes linger on Florence. Her eyes moved over the other woman, taking in detail her physicality. She was a slender built woman who didn't seem like she was all that strong. Gweniviere based on that had to take her brash nature with a grain of salt, wondering how much of it was a front to compensate for it.
When they reached the ground floor, Florence continued again- sounding suddenly confused about what the Lieutenant had offered her earlier. The tall German woman gave the littler a confused and, judgmental look, but as the other was continuing to speak so she remained quiet with the rather hard and confused expression on her face. "[B Yes... I was. Is that-?]" she glanced to the side, not knowing what to say until Flor seemed to answer it for herself and got the idea.
She nodded once more in hesitant affirmation, "[B If you'd like to, that is.]" the woman said, glancing over her to make sure she understood this time.
The woman jingled her keys in her hand, "[B So, am I driving or what?]"
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