agentotero-blog

[agentotero-blog]

Guys I just realized the last supper was the first murder mystery dinner!!!

[agentotero-blog]

pckpockets‌:

     “ i may look like crap, but i still look about a decade younger than you, abuelo, ” marisol narrowed her eyes, setting the napkin that she’d let hit her shoulder aside. he was right, though. she looked like shit, and she felt like shit. truth be told, she hadn’t truly gotten a good night’s sleep since before she even left miami, before she even met roman. insomnia had a social life back at home, though. neon lights and smoky lounges, midnight on the shores of the atlantic, a city skyline up close from the tiny balcony of her shanty apartment.

     in new york, it was different. colder, more isolated. they weren’t required to stick around hq, but mari didn’t care to get to know new york city the way she’d known miami, so she was kept awake by phantom memories and an ever growing sense of regret. most nights, the only things that kept her sane were eve’s adventures into nightclubs or simply hazel’s effervescent presence. the past few nights, however, had been worse than usual, and it showed on her face as she looked down at her practically untouched food, stabbing a fork into the middle of one of her waffles.

     “ no. not even for a minute. stared at my ceiling for an hour or so––.. then got too restless. didn’t want to bother anyone at hq, so i just found one of those 24-hour laundromats and did laundry ‘til the sun came up, ” a small smile passed her lips, “ three in the morning brings some pretty weird things out of a sleepy suburb like this, z. ”

     mari looked up and finally met his eyes, trying to get an idea of where his head was at. boy scout, the rest of the group called him by that nickname without hesitation. out of all of them, she supposed, his moral compass was probably the most aligned, his ideals the most beneficial to the general population. she wondered how life had carried gotten him to where he was now, sat across from here at a tiny cafe outside of new york city, hours after stealing priceless paintings from a high security museum. but marisol wasn’t one to pry, so instead of asking, she admitted something.

     “ i didn’t expect it to feel as good as it did, ” the words were slow and hesitant, and she quickly averted her eyes to anything but zo. instead, mari looked over at her glass, picked it up, and finished off three-fourths of that mimosa before continuing, “ i know that’s wrong, but–– ”

     her voice trailed off. but that payout would be more than what she could swipe in two good weeks in miami. but no one got hurt. but there wouldn’t be any trickle down chaos from the buy, just the art community losing their mind for a little bit. but there was so little damage compared to the shit she’d gotten into in miami. these were the excuses that kept her up, trying to excuse her racing heartbeat.

     “ but i don’t think i can help it. ”

      years of being el bebé of his family did not properly prepare him for the constant assault of everyone around him thinking he was somehow the ‘group dad’.  sure, he was the oldest of the group (  as far as he knew - flo’s age continued to be ambiguous to him; she could very well be immortal )  and sure, he was the most mature when it came to the traditional sense of things, but the reputation he had procured with the rest of him still floored him.  he could hear his sister’s dramatic cackle in his head.  ¿tú? l ¿las mas maduras? ¿son los borrachos?

      “  at least you were productive. ”   he commented, taking a slow sip of his coffee and silencing his proverbial sister to the back of his mind.  it reminded him of his own weekend housekeeping he had yet to achieve.  he was almost envious of inability to sleep, almost.  he severely regretted the lack of it last night, but that hadn’t been entirely his fault. “  i really wish you’d stop going to laundromats in the middle of the night.  weird is one thing but, suburbs or not, these wedos aren’t always all that safe.  come use the laundry room in my building. ”  

        one could argue that that was hardly any safer, but at least it wasn’t somewhere anyone could come and go.  it was a silly thing for him to fret over, really, but looking across the table all he could see was someone he wanted to protect.  he knew a shift kick to the knee would follow if he ever told her that, so he kept it buried every time it boiled up, which he had the feeling would be far more often now that she was...integrated.

        regardless of how she was raised, or where she came from, he was bitter towards what roman was shaping her into.  her clay was already so malleable; had zo found her first-- well, maybe she wouldn’t have felt so good after last night.  maybe she wouldn’t be chugging mamosas mere hours after dawn.  maybe she wouldn’t be doing laundry in a strange town instead of sleeping comfortable in miami.  only one of those things was something zo could change, so he focused on that.

     “  are you sure it felt good, or exhilarating?  because those are two different things. ”   he reached deliberately across the table, pinching the stem to her champagne flute with two fingers and slid it away from her with a quirked eyebrow.  the acidic aroma of the drink made his nose scrunch.  he’d barely gotten through a single drink last night, yet somehow smelling the thing made him suddenly feel hung over.  

    “  just don’t get caught, robin hood.  i’ve only got so many strings i can pull, and i’m pretty sure your boss has laid claim to most of those. ”

[agentotero-blog]

florencing‌:

date: feb 8, 2019 location: upper east side status: closed @agentotero

Florence emerged from the subway station and into the daylight. She always hated going into Manhattan; the borough was too loud and too crowded and smelled like piss, far less appealing in her opinion than the home she’d made for herself in Queens. Not to mention the fact that her assigned circumstances for this heist were less than ideal. She could slip into the museum and break a lock easily enough, but why did she have to go with Zo (or, as she referred to him in her head, the Shady Cub Scout)? She checked her watch impatiently before looking up and spotting him walking towards her from across the street. The Frick Collection was about a ten-minute walk from here; they’d arrive right on time. 

“Let’s get this over with, yeah?” Florence greeted him in a monotone. “No doubt you’re eager to get back to your buddies on the right side of the law.”

      “  look, i’m just as happy about this as you are. ”   zo held up his hands defensively as he stepped onto the sidewalk beside florence, before shoving them into the pockets of his suit pants.  he’d been dressed for work; the only way to come into the city was to pretend he was following a lead-- and that was the lie he’d follow when they got to the museum.  he nodded his head in the direction they had to go and started walking. “  i wasn’t exactly given a choice. ”

         as annoyed as zo was about having to play the part he was assigned, he was relieved he was stuck with florence rather than, well, most of others.  the ideal situation would to be camped out in a van sitting next to gen scanning monitors or standing guard behind kit to watch her six.

        plus, florence reminded him way too much of his sister, right down to the deadpanned annoyance and ability to throw a killer right hook.  not that he’d actually tell her that.  she might think he admired her.

     “  thought you were more about breaking faces, not locks. ”   zo teased, a smirk edging his lips despite better judgement.  most of the others didn’t seem to take to small talk but it was worth a shot-- plus, it calmed his nerves. “  this what you normally do on jobs? ”  

[agentotero-blog]

atfidele‌:

DATE / TIME: February 7th, 2019 / 7 PM LOCATION: HQ CLOSED FOR: @agentotero

The scene playing out was a familiar one. Imogen and Zo sitting side by side in front of a TV and Kit’s PS4, with food and beer spread out around them and their eyes affixed to the game in front of them. A running commentary bounced back and forth, sometimes overlapping; Imogen did her fair share of yelling (“Jesus fucking Christ, mate!”), trash talking (“Try to get at me now, you absolute dickhead”), and threatening (“Zo, I swear to Christ, if you don’t pick up that gun…”), filling what would otherwise be silent air with noises that could wake up the entire state.

Imogen muttered under breath as she sent her character into a sprint, running as fast as she could away from the team that was closing in on her. She took one hand off the controller to finish her beer, the other still pressing a toggle forward to run, and was caught off guard when an enemy came out from behind a building and started to shoot. The split seconds it took for her to set her drink back down and veer away ended with her character getting shot in the back and falling dramatically to the ground.

“Fuck!” Imogen yelled, leaning back on her bean bag chair to give herself leverage as she kicked the air in frustration. She watched as her character slowly started to bleed out in the middle of a road and she fiddled with the joysticks as she tried to crawl as fast as she could to find cover behind a flaming car. “Boy Scout, if you do not come revive me right this instant, I swear…”

        zo had a lot more things in common with gen and kit than most of the other’s would have guessed, especially when they weren’t under controlling eyes-- but cussing up a storm at the television screen definitely wasn’t one of those things.  while his favorite ladies seemed to drop the most colorfully creative combination of not-so-nice words that he’d ever heard in his life-- zo had always been more of a silent, focused gamer.

         which proved more true again tonight as he used the time with gen to distract from the next days events.  he more or less tuned out most of her emphatic exclamations even when her hand smacked against the side of his arm.  he kept a keen eye on his half of the screen, really only paying attention to what gen’s avatar was doing when she made a effort to point it out.

        or, when she yelled so abruptly that nearly spilled the beer he had perched already precariously between his knees.

       “  ¡ ay, dios ! ”   he nearly dropped the bottle, but caught it reflexively with his right hand before it hit the ground.  he left it when it’d dropped and turned his attention back to the screen, only affording gen a cursory glance out of the side of his eye.  “  don’t friggin’ do that, dude.  i shouldn’t rez you just for that, you practically made me walk right into the crossfire. ”   he shook his head, but ran his character over to hers regardless.

      “  when you asked me to run this with you tonight i didn’t exactly expect to be carrying your drunk ass. ”   his tone was teasing, and he did his best to pick up her accent, regardless of how bad he was at it.  “   this is supposed to be a team effort, mate. ”  

[agentotero-blog]

[agentotero-blog]

ringlcaders‌:

date: 07 february, 2019 location: hq status: closed @agentotero

roman loved new york. he loved the hustle and the rush of the city – maybe it was true that he just preferred being busy, that he liked when things weren’t slow or dragging – but no matter why there was something about it that made him feel alive. it was easier to disappear around a corner, to blend in with the crowd and have no one remember him just a few minutes later.

he walked alongside zo, his gaze forward, his hands tucked in his pockets. by all means, if anyone were to see them, it might look to them as if the two men didn’t know each other. in all honesty, roman didn’t hide his disdain for the other man ( though, that was a strong word. disdain was unfitting. maybe distrust or discomfort – either way, there was a coolness to roman’s demeanor, a separation that did not match up to his interaction with anyone else ).

“ are you alright with this ? ” there was hidden meaning behind the words. roman wasn’t asking to be kind. he was asking to ensure that zo would do this. there was no room for the other man to say no. “ you know what you’re doing ? ” it wasn’t meant to be harsh, but it was a fact of their existence. roman’s word was law and there was no room to waver.

        it was hardly as if this was the first of this kind of conversation the two of them had shared, but it was somehow significantly even less pleasant.  to date, zo had managed to avoid being a visible asset on the group’s little endeavor’s, so the idea of being tangibly involved was a nauseating weight in the pit of his stomach.  but that wasn’t even the worst of it-- somehow the criminal wonder twins had managed to an ex-nypd that zo knew working at the damn museum.

         “  yes, jefe, i know how to lie and deflect.  that’s day one training in spy school. ”   zo was hardly a sarcastic person by nature, but for some reason, roman brought it out of him.  he didn’t want to have this hands-on of a role at all, let alone have his abilities be brought to question.  particularly when it had been prefaced with a question that was meant to taunt him.  are you alright with this -- the blatant ‘no’ was on the tip of his tongue before roman had even finished the sentence but zo had swallowed it.  he knew it was a loaded question.

        “  seems pretty convenient you picked a place where i’d know somebody. ”   years in the bureau had made him far more touchy to conspiracy theories than he might have been before.  blind trust was a luxury he could no longer afford.   “  if you think i’m such a liability why are you even making me do this in the first place? ”  

[agentotero-blog]

when: february 7th;; early morning where: hq; the technodungeon who: closed to @olvirsson​

        "  what’s up with you, today? ”   his tone was neither judgmental or harsh; rather a simple, inquisitive question.  they’d been doing this for a while, now, and kit had always been quick on the uptake.  zo had always assumed with her background and persistence she’d be a fast learner, and she hadn’t proven him wrong.  yet.  something about her today wasn’t aligned right.

        he unraveled from kit, loosening his arm that had wrapped around her neck, pinning her into place against him and removed his unloaded sig sauer from the side of her head.  he tapped her back twice followed with a light shove; a silent signal to try again.  he tucked the pistol back into his holster.

       "  everything i’ve taught you so far is going to be useless if you can’t disarm your opponent.  you got the jitters for tomorrow or something?  because if either of us should be more distracted it’s definitely me.  you actually enjoy this crap. ”   he moved away with his back to her, grabbing his water bottle from the table.  he took a long drink, eyeing the clutter the clogged the table in front of him.  most of it was gen’s-- some discarded motherboards, an empty dime bag he had pretended he hadn’t seen yesterday, some broken down wireless security cameras--

        a pump-action water gun.

        he poured the rest of the contents of his water bottle into the tank and plugged it, spinning back around to face her.   "  would this make things easier for you, elsa?  maybe do a little ice magic instead? ”   he pulled the trigger, a few quick spurts of water hitting kit right in the shoulder.  he resisted the very strong urge to make ‘pew pew’ noises. 

       "  this one’s bigger anyway.  probably an easier target.  come’n get it, your majesty. ”  

[agentotero-blog]

mvntague‌:

        “ no ? ” monty tilted his head slightly, reaching out to wrap his fingers around zo’s tie as he spoke. the urge to play up his little casanova persona was never strong, per se. necessary, sometimes. a habit, mostly. right now, he couldn’t quite tell if the performance was for himself or his companion. both, perhaps. he was about to make some comment about coming over to the dark side, a lighthearted and teasing quip, but something about zo’s inability to fully articulate his role in the heist today made him hesitate. that, and —

       lindo, zo had dubbed him, and monty still found himself resisting the urge to grin like a fool every time he heard it. it felt some ridiculous schoolgirl instinct, bubbling up in his chest so fast it nearly took his breath away. instead, he replaced it with the flirtatious smirk that adorned his lips much more often, noting zo’s glance downward with satisfaction. so. he still had it. the confirmation was never much of a surprise anymore, but it still felt good. a part of him wondered if this was too dangerous of a game to play — if he should even be playing with someone like zo, still one of the good guys — but, like the instinct to smile genuinely, he sidestepped the thoughts completely. 

        “ it’s even more beautiful in the daytime. you can see right out over central park. ” though zo seemed content to take swigs of his beer and make idle conversation, monty’s one track mind demanded something very, very different. in order to effectively distract both of them, monty tightened his grip on zo’s tie, tugging on it with just the right amount of force to bring him closer. zo was a large man, there was no denying that, but he was already here, already close enough to touch. the resistance they both claimed in the daylight was a stranger in this moment, a fleeting memory that was gladly willed away in favor of the thought of removing the thin layers of fabric separating the two of them. 

         he couldn’t help the ( rather undignified ) snort that left his mouth at the mention of dante. his usual control slipped for a split second, allowing something usually deigned unappealing to have the audacity to associate itself with him. and yet, in typical monty fashion, it somehow managed to humanize him, bring him down from his untouchable pedestal and present him as someone tangible. someone real. 

        “ que no, ” he protested, rolling his eyes. “ tengo mucho respeto por él, pero… ” he shrugged, as if it were obvious. “ i wasn’t exactly about to ask him out for a celebratory drink. ” he paused, the coy little smile creeping back onto his features. “ especially not when i have company. it would’ve been rude of me to keep you waiting much longer. ” monty glanced pointedly down at the beer in zo’s hand, raising an eyebrow before meeting his gaze once more. “ speaking of being rude — i should let you finish your drink. i’m being an awful host. ” he didn’t bother moving away as he spoke; after all, it wasn’t really like either of them were under the illusion that he cared about his abilities as a host. he cared much, much more about whether zo had the willpower to let him move away.

        he knew monty was speaking, but he couldn't hear a word.  he thought his heart was pounding before, but now with those slender and too skilled fingers dangerously close to it, it was thumping so loud he couldn't hear anything besides the blood rushing in his ears.  what was worse, was that he lost all sense of decorum and restraint the instant monty pulled him closer.  the room got a lot smaller, a lot hotter, and a lot more clouded all at once.   all he could see was glinting blue eyes and smirking pink lips.

        and zo kissed him before he realized what he was even doing.

        it was harder than he'd intended, but as soon as that familiarly forbidden taste hit his lips he only deepened it.  abandoning his half drank beer on a nearby table, he grabbed monty's face with both hands, if for no other reason than to ensure he wasn't going anywhere.  not that that was really a huge concern, but zo was never one to take unnecessary risks.

        you see, the problem a one zavier otero had was that the reason he couldn't stop himself from falling into what he could only assume was monty's plan all along, was that he wanted the distraction from the day's events.  he wanted to feel the heat of monty's body, the taste of his tongue, the sound of his ( likely faux ) surprised whimper.  he let himself fall prey to it because he was too weak to confront the slippery slope he was travelling down.  that, and well, it just felt so good.

        so zo kissed him harder, shoving him back into the window before he realized what he was even doing.

        that's when his brain shut off completely.   hands left behind flushed cheeks to trail down the sides of a crisply pressed and tucked shirt, only to tug it free, desperate to touch the bare skin underneath.  when he finally slipped them under, monty's hips felt burning hot under his tight grip.  zo pressed into him, holding him as close as possible and catching his bottom lip in his teeth.   he took a moment breathe, then, resting his forehead against monty's, thumbs tracing lazy circles along symmetrical hip bones.

        that's, unfortunately, when his brain turned back on.  so he forced himself to pull back just enough to catch monty's eyes.

        “ i should go, ” he whispered, a husky rasp to his voice. he didn't want to, and he didn't mean it. but it felt like the right thing to say. his next voiced thought brought a sideways smirk to his face.

        “ we aren't very good at ‘last time's… ”

[agentotero-blog]

      zo had very little memory of the train ride back from new york.  he had boarded before the sun had even come up, exhausted and full to the brim with regret, so he slept most of the way north, which had been the only sleep he had gotten.  had it not been for the repetitive blasts text message vibration from the phone in his pocket, he might have even missed his stop entirely.

      so, despite his fatigued state and internalized guilt trip, he was grateful for mari’s invitation.  even more so for literal pounds of greasy breakfast meat and eggs he had just devoured.  he made a point not to comment on the third refill of her morning alcohol selection like he normally would; a silent thank you for her company.   instead, he nodded in agreement with mari's gratitude to their waitress as she refilled his black coffee.

      the porcelain of the mug was comfortingly warm between his hands, chipped and stained from overuse.  the liquid inside it rippled from the refill, reflecting the fluorescent lights from overhead in shaken, broken patterns.  not unlike the gray silk sheets had the night before.  or, few hours ago, really.   zo’s eyes closed, memories flooding his mind's eye.  soft hands gripping his arms, squeezing.   an open mouth against his neck, panting.  his name escaping puffed lips.

      a napkin smacking into his face.  his eyes blinked open and he rubbed them, frustratingly, launching the ball right back in the direction it had come.   “no te preocupes por mi arrugas, ladronita.”  he deflected her inquisition best he could. there was no way he was explaining where his mind had been drifting since he left monty's bedroom. 

      “i'm more worried about you, porbrecita. how did yesterday go for you? you look like crap.” he was hardly one to talk, he still had yet to go home. he was in desperate need of a shower, a run and a nap. not necessarily in that order.  though if he had learned anything from his sisters, it was that being the elder allowed you a few free bouts of hypocrisy.

”did you not sleep?”

date: feb 9, 2019 –– late morning. location: somewhere that serves bottomless mimosas status: closed – @agentotero

     college-aged girls boasting greek letters, mom’s sporting let me speak to your manager haircuts, and couples with matching gray hair filled a small restaurant on main street; marisol and zo almost stuck out sitting far from the door at a small table near a window. she could’ve disappeared into the hoodie that covered her body, and anyone who got an up-close look at the bags under her eyes probably assumed she had a wicked hangover. in the months since she moved to new york, this tiny restaurant had become a regular spot for her, but she hadn’t yet dragged anyone along into what felt like her space. that morning, however, she hadn’t wanted to be by herself, so she asked zo to come with.

     “ gracias, ” mari smiled softly at the server as the woman filled her glass for a third time, champagne and orange juice to the brim. she hadn’t slept, not really anyway. a wink here, a moment there. her first heist weighed heavily on her mind, her robin hood mentality long gone since the end of the job. she’d celebrated, she’d come down, she’d spiraled, she’d drank, and now, she was drinking more sat across from zo and waiting on a belgian waffle the size of her head to show up.

     “ how many of these do you think it’ll take to completely negate the entire spectrum of human emotion ? ” her tone was soft, a playful ring to it, but she meant it. she’d become overwhelmed; adrenaline, guilt, regret, the urge–– no, desire–– to do it again, fear that she’d become too good at being too much like her father. maybe criminal was her birthright. mari lifted her glass and leaned back in her seat, eyeing zo from across the table. 

     she wouldn’t say it, not yet, not to his face, but she was impossibly grateful for him. she felt a little more at home with zo than the others, like a long lost brother that learned morality and hope for others from her own mother had stumbled into her life with perfect timing. she balled up a napkin and tossed it at him, getting his attention. “ pobrecito, ” she mimicked his forlorn expression, lips in a put, “ scowling gives you wrinkles. háblame. ”

[agentotero-blog]

mvntague‌:

        though the style and color palette of his wardrobe were typically much bolder than zo’s, monty had veered closer to the agent’s standard men in black type outfit than he would usually ever dare. his only consolation was that he’d chosen a suit with a subtle houndstooth print — givenchy, of course — for his little endeavor with dante that day. 

        their endeavor, speaking of, had gone off without a hitch. because of course it had, between monty’s lofty yet smothering rich-boy condescension and dante’s frankly ridiculous attention to detail. monty was good with dates, times, faces, places; to him, it was an art, a carefully concocted web of lies and half-truths. to dante, it was a science, everything in its logical place, the left brain to his right. they worked flawlessly, and monty strode out of the frick collection wearing both his houndstooth suit and the quiet smugness of someone far too used to success. 

        once he’d parted ways with the walking killjoy that was dante, there was little left to do except brace himself for the brisk walk back to his apartment. monty, snob that he was, steadfastly refused to enter a subway station unless he was dragged, kicking and screaming. call him spoiled, but a lifetime of chauffeurs and luxury cars had left him with a particular disdain for getting up close and personal with the sights and smells of nyc’s subway system. it wasn’t as if he could pay for first class. not even business class. to add insult to injury, it didn’t make sense to order an uber ( uberBLACK, of course, he wasn’t a heathen ) when he lived less than a mile from the frick collection. overall, a goddamn tragedy.

        regardless of his transportation, the fact of the matter was that monty had a much shorter trip home than usual. for once, they were on his home turf, which was jarring and convenient all at the same time. he was used to heists in other states, at the very least, where it would take him a certain length of time and mileage to get home. now, all he had between him and his front door was a dwindling number of new york city blocks. his thoughts drifted as he meandered down fifth avenue, settling unwillingly on what — who — awaited him when he arrived back at his apartment.

        he’d promised himself it wouldn’t happen again. promised zo, even, not that he held that one in as much high regard. monty, for all his enthusiasm when it came to the bedroom, was also very aware of the concept of not shitting where he ate. even so, slipping a key into zo’s hand had hardly been a thought, more of a reflex when he’d mentioned his inability to return upstate directly after the heist. he knew his flirtatious tone had been more than clear, but that was half the problem. it wasn’t as if he lacked opportunity for fulfilling that type of need, after all. but zo was close by, zo was unfairly attractive, and monty was hard-pressed to look much further now that he possessed, ahem, intimate knowledge of what zo kept hidden underneath his basic white button downs. 

        and speak of the devil — though he was the one that’d extended the invitation in the first place, monty still found himself a little surprised by the sight of zo standing in his living room. “ buenas, ” he offered, half in greeting and half in warning of his presence, shutting the door quietly behind him. his suit jacket made its home next to what he could only assume was zo’s, his shirt long since unbuttoned to expose the hollow of his throat. “ started celebrating a successful heist without me, i see, ” he added, nodding to the beer in zo’s hand. 

      the voice tore through his troubled reverie despite it's well intentioned tone.  in fact, it took a few pounding heartbeats for zo to remember that he was the stranger in the lavish apartment.  it was his presence that was out of place, not monty's.   but maybe the sudden change of no longer pondering the weight of what he had done in solitude wasn't what had accelerated his heart rate. maybe it was something else entirely.

      maybe it was the fact that this charismatic, perfectly charming and intoxicating man basically took over any room he was in.  it was infuriating and enticing all at once.

     which is why zo couldn't help but steal a glance when monty came to a stop beside him, even if it was a brief one.   pristinely dressed as always, probably more so for the day's adventure, he stood composed but relaxed.  he wondered, for a brief moment, if he was ever going to get to see the real monty, or if he was just a pawn in another one of his games, another distraction from mediocrity.  after the weight of the day, that was a question for some other time.  better suited for a confessional rather than an extravagant setting such as this one.

      “no estoy celebrando.”  he countered with a half shrug, helping himself to another sip. “this...trip...wasn't exactly what i thought i was signing up for.  i’m way more comfortable holed up with gen or kit somewhere watching from the sidelines, rather than--”  lying, abetting, breaking an oath--  he cut himself off, verbally and mentally, taking a longer drink this time in a pathetic attempt to calm the guilt that burned in the pit of his stomach.  he forced a smile, shaking off the bad vibes of where his mind had been heading.

      ”didn't expect you back so soon, lindo.  thought i might get one or two of these in before i got in trouble.  i never did get to see a view like this when i lived here.   the view’s a lot different in midtown.”  a chuckle rumbled in his throat, and he turned to face monty daring another drink as he caught the other man's eyes.  his gaze lingered, flicking quickly to smirking lips.  he licked the lingering beer from his own, returning his eyes back to where they belonged.   somehow, this view was significantly more impressive, but he would be damned if he said that out loud.

      ”¿te divertiste con dante?” he quirked an eyebrow, a bemused grin on his face, already knowing the answer to the question.  “or is that why you're back so soon?”

[agentotero-blog]

      it wasn't as if he hadn't know what his assignment was going to be before this meeting. there had been a very long, very aggravating conversation with roman prior to the group one--- yet to have it laid out in front of him and to everyone else made it real. cemented it as fact. made it so he could no longer hope that their fearless “leader” would change his mind.

      the weight of it settled on his shoulders like a pair of strong hands threatening to shove him below the water's edge, drowning him in reality. he sat, unmoving, as everyone else dispersed, their voices a myriad of casual chatter, lively excitement and quiet laughter. for everyone else, tomorrow was just another day in what they considered their normal lives. for him, it was very much the opposite.

      which is precisely why it took several long moments to blink himself out of his stupor when his brain finally registered the movement beside him and the dulcet tones of a kind voice that accompanied it. his gaze finally moved to find hazel, the closest thing to a silver lining in a rainstorm of criminal behavior that zo could have ever hoped to find. her question was a moot one, if anything, but the gesture behind it he took to heart. they were alone in the room, now, and he'd never been shy to speak his mind around her when that was the case.

      “they're testing me.” it was a flat statement; emotionless, matter-of-fact, bitter. the they in the sentence was also clearly implied. he realized then, watching hazel's relaxed and concerned demeanor, exactly how tense he was. he forced his shoulders to untense and sighed, crossing his arms.

       “do they do that with anyone else or is this my punishment for them wanting a fed in their little enterprise?”

date // time: february 7th // 20:58 pm

location: hq meeting room

status: closed to @agentotero

as the group has grown into something of dreams, hazel sees the personalities that make it turn into an odd thing with conflicting personalities. what she didn’t expect to see was a double agent. the first time zo walked in, hazel was admittedly shaken up. it seemed like a risky move, and for once she found herself questioning the authorities that had made such a decision. but since getting to know zo, she’s found herself increasingly warming up to him. in a way, hazel feels part of herself reflected in his golden heart. she considered him a friend, and everything about their relationship was a refreshing change from the tension and bitterness of some others.

but in more than one way, they were different. very different.

it became clear in the look on his face by the end of the meeting. the others were leaving, taking off to do god knows what, but hazel lingered. concern lined her features as she rose from her seat and made her way towards zo. with a tired sigh and a lazy smile, she settled into the seat next to his. comfort in a place of chaos, ironically coming from one of the most chaotic group members of them all. one who didn’t care about the amount of rules they were breaking the next day — unlike zo, who had been stuck one of the most morally jarring jobs of them all. it was probably easier to break in and steal some art than lie to a friend, hazel mused.

“so…what’s up, boy scout?” maybe it was a dumb question, with more answers than hazel could come up with. but it was somewhere to start. she hoped it was enough.

[agentotero-blog]

when: february 8;; 11:58pm where: monty’s upper east side apartment who: closed to @mvntague​

      when dante had first convinced (coerced) zo into this whole schtick, zo never expected to actually be on the scene for it.  pulling files, burying evidence, helping to pull strings: all thing he had expected; not lying to the face of someone he’d once considered a friend.

      the whole scam went without incident.  he’d played the lie, talking tyler-- a fellow ex-nypd officer-- up and down, drawing his focus so flo could do her work unhindered.  if the whole thing had in fact been a coincidence, a happenstance meeting of two old colleagues, zo might have even found the encounter uplifting.  but as he made his way up fifth avenue reflecting on it, a knot of guilt wound tight in his gut.  even with all of his quantico training, lying-- especially to people he knew were good people-- never sat well with him.

      it certainly didn’t help that he had time to kill.  the only way to get down to the city on a week day meant telling the office he was following a lead; which meant not being able to head back upstate until the next day.  something he now regretted mentioning to monty as he entered the lavish looking lobby of an apartment building.  the key to the sat heavy in his pocket.  he knew he shouldn’t be here, yet here he was.  he knew he shouldn’t have been at the frick house, aiding and abetting, yet there he was.  he’d dug his hole for the day, now he had to lie in it.  

      and who said he had to lie in it alone.

      when he walked in, the ambiance of the place somehow surprised him and made a lot of sense all at once.  it was all very...monty.  zo slipped off this suit jacket and hung it on a hook near the door.  rolled up sleeves and a loosened black tie followed.  he’d dressed for his real job, but somehow it fit his side work.  he took his time making his way through the apartment, taking in the surroundings and trying not to plaster too much of a smile on his face, not that there was anyone to see it.

      make your self at home.  monty had said, that ever-present flirtatious smirk on his face and glint in his eye, so zo grabbed a beer from the fridge and continued his self-guided tour.  he took a long sip, slipping his free hand in his pocket as he landed in front of a massive window that offered an admittedly impressive view.   drinking’s a bad idea, his conscious muttered at the back of his mind and so is being alone here.  you told yourself last time was the end of it. why are you here?

      if he wasn’t busy arguing with his own thoughts, he might have heard the door open behind him.    

[agentotero-blog]

the freeloader

           here xx

[agentotero-blog]

the freeloader, the getaway driver

What are your guilty pleasures? What are your bad habits? Do you want to change these things about you, or are they just things that make you you?

    “  i don’t know if i’d call it guilty. ”  a lie.  it definitely was. he knew after decades of his sisters berating him and his college friends mocking him that drunken, loud, but incredibly on-key singing show tunes was absolutely a ‘guilty’ pleasure.  “  it’s not my fault they make those songs so catchy!  i’m the victim in this i swear. ”  

      “  as for bad habits?  probably just knuckle cracking.  drives my pops crazy. ”

Besides the obvious, are you the sort of person to follow the rules or break them?

    “   you guys already think i’m a boy scout, so why even ask? ” lately, around this group especially, what purely defined the ‘rules’ was becoming blurrier.  and this was despite an entire lifetime spent of striving to follow them.  “   if we don’t have rules-- yes, even for this crap-- then we’re just operating in chaos, right? ”

[agentotero-blog]

spy

Do you have a pet? Why did you name them what you did? ( if you don’t have a pet… why not? )

     “ girasol. man that pup is my entire heart and soul.  and i’ve had a lot of dogs.  maybe even too many if there is such a thing. ” he knew she was special the moment he’d picked her up from the station.  ever since he joined the academy he made a habit of adopting retired police dogs.  most of the time their human partners would take them home, but on the rare occasion they had no place to go, zo was first in line.

    “ i didn’t name her, actually.  she was eight when she came home with me-- but i couldn’t think of a better name.  sunflower.  she has more of the blonde fur than typical for the breed so her original partner figured it was fitting.  the sunny personality came after, i guess.  she makes the best cuddle buddy.  and running buddy.  and netflix buddy.  only downside is i can’t eat a damn meal on my own, but it’s worth sharing. ”

[agentotero-blog]

ringleader

What is your greatest failure? Have you grown from it or does it still haunt you? 

      “ i always wondered what my life would have been like if i hadn’t given up on the force. ” saying it out loud carried a special kind of weight.  he knew, deep down, it hadn’t been the right home for him, and yet, the abandonment of a life long dream seemed like a failure.  it was the first time in his life zo had ever quit everything; the concept just wasn’t in his bones.  even if it’d brought him to a better place, it would forever eat at the back of his mind.

       but then a genuine smile graced his lips.  “ but then i wouldn’t be here with you, now, would i? ”  optimism had been a hereditary curse in his family– one he had graciously embraced.  “ not exactly where i’d expected to be, i guess.  but still ain’t bad.  i don’t have time for ghosts– seems exhausting. ”

[agentotero-blog]

hacker

If you could hack, would you use your skills for good or evil?

     “ is this a loaded question? ” zo laughed lightly, fully aware that his answer was rather obvious. “ i know i’m gunna disappoint the heck out of imogen by saying this but i would pick not know how to hack at all. ”  if any of them even spent one day dealing the the kinds of headaches he got from all the crap he had to deal with during his day job, perhaps they too might reconsider their answer.  Then again–he was dealing with a gang full of professional thieves.  So, maybe not..  

      “ that just ain’t my style, man.  if i need to get something or learn something, i’ll just figure it out on my own.  the right way. ”