#[ * writing . ↷ : the boy who broke the code. * amir jace laurent. ]

[royialty]

tags time <3

[ * writing . ↷ : it’s always darkest before dawn. * chae romano. ]

[ * writing . ↷ : the boy who broke the code. * amir jace laurent. ]

[ * writing . ↷ : the shadow of her father’s legacy. * noor saleem. ]

[ * writing . ↷ : the star who burns too brightly. * clara solaria. ]

[ * writing . ↷ : the queen hidden among wolves. * rosalind blackwood. ]

[ * writing . ↷ : the oracle who walks alone. * clarissa damaris. ]

[royialty]

he can feel the air lighten as carol takes her place, like sunshine into a pouring rainy day or windows shining into an empty dark room, the folder barely hitting the table before he leans in, elbows propped, curiosity already brimming. ❝ survived? without you golden girl, i was nearly drowning. ❞ he says, a boyish grin breaking through. ❝ you've always known how to make an entrance, even years later, you've always known. ❞ he jests with her, two old friends in a dance they've done before. in a game they've played a hundred times before. amir doesn’t wait for her to respond, his hands already pulling the folder closer. his enthusiasm is tangible, the kind of growing energy that only really comes around when he's comfortable, when he's back doing something that matters. ❝ what is this? some top-secret mission? classified intel? oh, wait—don’t tell me—did you finally crack the vitamin thing? because if you did, i’m going to need more than vodka to celebrate. ❞ his eyes scan over the documents, flipping through old photographs, seeing hints of what looks like codes. this is bad. he pushes up his glasses, seeing the red ink and the crossed out figures. ❝ carol... you should stay away from this. it seems too dangerous. don't get caught up in it. ❞

carol cuts @royialty a pointed look, but does not yet verbally address the grousing; the cardboard folder, an inconspicuous light brown, lacking in any sort of markings to inform of its contents, is first set down on the mangy table amir occupies before she seats herself. the chair makes a disconcerting noise when its somewhat wobbly legs scrape against the floorboards, sticky with spilled alcohol.

“    hello, amir.    ” a soothing, honey-laced warmth colours her timbre, as if the greeting were a cup of tea poured for an old friend. she supposes it would be accurate to call him that. “    no more than ten minutes,    ” comes her response on the topic of being late then, followed by the dawning of a gentle, indecipherable smile. “    i got held up, but it seems you survived the wait just fine.    ”

running on a tight schedule, the spy had met with another contact no more than an hour prior and it had required more persuasion than she had counted on to get them to part with the information carol sought, hence the subsequent tardiness. she does not elaborate, though, instead flagging down a waiter and ordering a whiskey neat before giving amir her undivided attention. with a small nod to indicate the elephant in the room, namely the still-unexplained folder, she says, “    i was hoping you could take a look at something and tell me what you make of it.    ”