for a moment , brief as a waft , they forgot themself , they forgot who they were talking with , yet as short as their slip was , it was enough to say too much , to fuck things up . as usual . demian looked constricted for half a second before the mask fell over their features , a mocking , amused expression tainting the sharp edges of their face . " cheese , agent , i’m sorry , i forgot how much you lack a sense of humor , " demian retaliated insolently , once more behaving in a way disappointing to their parents’ expectations . however , they couldn’t deny the words burned , deep down , they craved understanding , yet had just sought it in the wrong place and the reality veronica’s statements held made them ache more than they were willing to admit .
" you’re wrong , though . my mother is not just a good agent , she’s a brilliant one . " but she’s awful in every other aspect , they wanted to add , yet the lesson had been learned — he wouldn’t overshare again . " anyway , " their hands slapped their lap soundly , body inclining forward , hands rearranging the chips in front of them . " are we betting or what ? "
𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗍𝗎𝗌 private, for demian ( @tvrmoils )
𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾𝖿𝗋𝖺𝗆𝖾 + 𝗅𝗈𝖼𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 -- casino night
PROMPT . . . please don't say that. i don't want to be like my mother
veronica rolls her eyes, the reflexive gesture is followed by a huff of air escaping from her chest. "yeah, well. you're not the first," she mutters under her breath, offering a glimpse into the intricate tapestry that has shaped her into the woman she is. she had baggage too, shocker.
flipping a poker chip between her manicured fingers, veronica remains unfazed by the dim light of the casino and the swirling cigar smoke in the air. her honesty cuts through the relaxed ambience. her hand snaps to demian, her tone sharp. "i don't give a fuck who you are or who you decide to become," she asserts, her words devoid of sympathy. "i'm not offering a therapy session, so quit it with the woe-is-me bullshit."
slamming the poker chip onto the table, veronica's gaze hardens. "your mom is a good agent. if you don't want to be like her, fine. you'd be doing her a favor by not disgracing her legacy."
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in very few spaces sabine found the calm she did in museums , always peaceful , an almost reverent silence surrounding every piece , only muffled comments and marveled expressions coming from the visitors . she often occupied the same place , in front of the same piece — one of her mother’s favorites , composed by feeble colors and soft lines that made her unavoidably melancholic .
used to be unapproachable in this particular place , the presence by her side was a surprise , and the reaction it got from her was hard to conceal . it took her a moment to process what’s been said , eyes roaming the form at her left . " uhm … yeah , it’s— " sabine paused , and her gaze fell on the piece again . " i never thought it that way , that honesty is what every work of art has in common . " it was a shocking revelation , to be aware of it . she looked at vanessa once more , assessing her , seeing her in a different light after her words , suddenly very interested in her thoughts and mind . " what else do you see ? "
— starter for: anyone , assume connections !
— location & time: art museum , afternoon
determined to salvage what little off time she had vanessa opted to explore the local museum. however, it felt incongruous in a city known for its emphasis on innovation rather than it's reverence for the past. yet, as vanessa wandered through the exhibits, her eyes absorbed each artifact and artwork --- from ancient stone sculptures to modern splashes of acrylic on canvas. every piece told a story.
with her arms crossed over her chest, vanessa turned to the guest beside her. "how honest, don't you think?" she muses. "to lay bare all its perfections and imperfections. there's no hiding — art has a unique way of revealing such truths."
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it’s like a sharp , low thump — the pain she feels in her skull , penetrating every layer until it hugs her brain in a fog of dizziness and pain , and sabine would love to blame last night’s terrifying affair for it , but her headache had little to do with clowns and cryptic speeches , and a lot more with the amount of whiskey she had consumed to tolerate the whole thing . she was naught but a corpse flopped down on the couch , and even the soft fall of yejide by her side felt like an earthquake to her hangover body . " it does , " her reply is a groan , hoarse and tired . she knows jeyide isn't talking about her pounding head , but she has no mind right now to think about anything else . in fact , she doesn’t have a mind to think at all . yet she does , for him . " i feel like crap , please do not let me drink that much ever again . " deflating , that’s what she tries to do . still , yejide’s words sink in and get processed , and her brain haze is quickly replaced by a tint of worry and softness . " yeah , no , they weren’t augmented . at all , " a pause , glassy eyes assess him for a second — it gives her the time to sober up , she doesn’t want yejide to think she’s not taking this— them seriously . " why do you feel useless ? " curiosity permeates her tone . they’re supposed to follow orders , in the end , stick to rules , and the orders said to stay put , to do nothing but swallow your panic and concern , no matter how much it could kill you … or kill others . why feel useless when that’s what you were ordered to do ?
➥ STATUS : CLOSED @tvrmoils
➥ FEATURING : AGENTVERBENA + AGENTBYTE
rogue clowns ( jesters... ? whatever you wanted to call them ) have a funny way of ruining plans. april fools is nothing short of a coveted holiday for yejide, happening to exceed the previous year every time the first rolls around again. nothing dangerous ! they stick to harmless pranks, things that get a genuine smile out of even some of the most serious agents. cue a dramatic sigh as yejide flops down beside sabine, morning of the first. " this sucks. " rare that anything puts a damper on yejide's mood, but between the ongoing investigations and what happened last night, they find it increasingly difficult to maintain their attitude. " i feel useless. how are you holding up ? " they worry their lower lip between their teeth, lost in thought. " i can't get those images out of my mind. as far as i could tell they weren't augmented. "
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teeth find the skin inside her cheek sharply , yet the gesture is imperceptible . she doesn’t want worry to permeate her features , doesn’t want her concern to be mistaken with pity , a feeling that couldn’t be further away from the current reality — sabine bogelot is not one to harbor that kind of compassion for others , much less for the woman in front of her who despite the pain she’s clearly in , remains stoic , like an amazon , facing her searching eyes with dignity . " you feel like the dosage is too much ? " she asks dumbly , the inflection in her voice betraying the incredulity behind it . attentive eyes scan the agent , zeroing in on her shoulder , the tension in her neck , the pain so subtly etched on her fair features . then , " how much are you taking ? " if agent salt is in the correct dosage , then she clearly needs more , a few milligrams higher , perhaps . if she’s not … well , that would explain an overload of things .
it was a reminder that she couldn't play god, that she couldn't pretend like little had changed when her entire life had and now there was a worry spreading around the organisation about recent events, ones that were quite worrisome. although sinéad wanted to be in control so badly by making things more difficult for herself - so that she could stay sharp - it left her without the control of her own body and indeed mind if her pain receptors were overriding everything else. her nerves were damaged but now it felt like everything was seizing up in a painful way. the woman was tough on herself and that's why she told herself she wouldn't cry over it - what good would her tears do for her? they'd fix nothing. "i feel like it's a bit too much." she would have shrugged but everything hurt. if her body was trying to tell her that something was wrong, wasn't she best knowing? she wasn't taking the other effects into account - it was supposed to help her. "it's a bad flare up." the recent news hadn't helped it.
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rage , unbridled and scorching as embers , charges the gaze that follows the senator as he makes his way to the restrooms , and it almost spills , even between the iron clench of their jaw at edita’s words . " you shouldn’t , " the answer is a snarl , not at her , of course , but at the reality she has to face simply for being a woman , an attractive , young woman . " i mean , don’t get me wrong , i’m glad you know how to handle it , " a chortle falls from their lips , a hint of disbelief permeating the expression as they reminiscence what just happened , how she managed what happened . " it’s just … you shouldn’t need to— to have that ability , you know ? men should do things , like behave themselves , especially if they’re ugly and old trying to get their way with— " limp hand gestures at the entirety of their company , trying to signal what they mean . " you know , pretty girls like you . " the words are not a compliment but a fact , not a way to entice the woman , just to state a reality she clearly is aware of , and the nonchalant tone in which they fall from lips brilliant with cherry balm is enough to let her know . or they hope so , they would hate to make her feel like they’re just another one of those .
for operating outside the realm of the field, demian is no less capable in the dirt. through the peripheral of her eye, edita watches as they feel the impact of surprise, pivot, and grift. perhaps it's being the puppeteer that makes demian so adept. nobody makes a move, including that of a facial muscle, that they haven't plotted out. as they turn to her edie looks almost, for a moment, like a cat that ate the canary only to find out it was the least favoured of all the birds: that something she had attempted, hoped for, had been found without reaction. the truth, of course, is that instigation is an awfully good cover for whatever meatier emotion lingers beneath — something with the bone structure of gratitude. "of course," the pad of a finger, soft under the clamshell of a long painted nail, presses idly at a crumb on her plate. a moment later she discards this pearl on a length of napkin, rubbed off idly between thumb and forefinger. the same hand raises the martini glass to her lips, drawing slowly from its pool before allowing the rim to linger against her lips, a silver lake upon which the cool stone of her words skip. "i've met enough men like that to know their bark is worse than their bite. which is to say they yipper on aimlessly and never have any teeth at all.
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something akin to gratitude and very close to relief shines in demian’s eyes . the rest domnhall offers him is unexpected , it surprises them , but they have had enough practice to conceal it masterly under a mask of absolute indifference . demian shrugs , nonchalantly , knowing very well this is also a break for him , that they can use each other to breathe a little better in the confines of this polluted reunion . " what do you mean if someone asks ? " a smirk slowly stretches their features , giving them their trademark devilish expression . " last time i checked , we are having a very , very serious conversation about work , about , you know— " he waves his hand dismissively between them , smirk still in place yet properly tamed . " uhm , field advances and that code i’m working on to… uh , whatever . " then , they remember they’re , indeed , working on something important . they sober up a little . " actually , i am working on a code to develop a more precise gps for field agents , the idea is to be able to locate them as fast and soon as they move , faster and sooner than before , of course , which … is ironic considering our current … situation . " finally , something specific to talk about . they don’t know if domnhall is going to engage , but they don’t truly care — they’re trapped here , with each other , nonetheless . " what about you ? what you been up to ? "
he wouldn't call it dreadful, but the event is definitely firmly on the side of obligation rather than enjoyment. and he can understand why demian would give it that label. " i can imagine, " he says — though his situation is different, dom grew up in the shadow of his prodigy siblings and knows the delight of managing others' unreasonable expectations. he knows better than to dig, instead seeking a new topic of conversation. " well, if anyone asks, we're having a deep and extremely important discussion about work that simply cannot be put off any longer, " dom offers. " or you can shadow me for a while, i've found it's useful to have agents from multiple factions in a conversation. "
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a scoff bubbles offended from the depths of their throat , considering yejide’s input simply presumptuous — how an outfit like that , even with the changes they propose , could be fit enough for a gq cover ? demian rolls their eyes , taking a sip from their drink and humming noncommittally . " don't be too nice , " they volley back , a smirk stretching auburn - colored lips . " even if he adds what you suggest , that scarf is horrid , you have to at least give me that . " it’s an exaggeration , of course , the scarf is not really that bad , but it is also something that he would not wear even with a gun against his temple forcing them to do it . them , on the other hand , are a sight to be held , and nobody with functional eyes could say demian seo otherwise . " oh , people tend to be prejudiced , don’t they ? " they ask , slightly contemplative , a troubling look shadowing their gaze at the thought . then , despite their tipsy — just tipsy — and pensive state , they remember , " hey , you never came up with a story for ugly scarf man ! that’s cheating , yejide . "
oh, how yejide longs for the comfort of their computer set-up. even the most extroverted people need a break and he finds his in the embrace of talking shit with demian. not quite the screens and chair he wants — but it's a very close second. a brief reprise to be unapologetically himself ( not that he's ever anyone else, though frequently he's felt the need to reel himself in ) with someone else who just fucking gets it. yejide shoves demian lightly, all familiarity and no harshness. " be nice. the pieces on their own aren't bad ! they just don't go together. listen — a couple more red accents and he'd be on the cover of gq. " nothing but sincerity in his voice. a genuine smile, all pearly whites and raised cheeks at the compliment. comfortable red satin in a retro silhouette with an honest to god train and pumps that match — seriously, who the hell is she ? " you flatter me, " voice takes on a playful quality, " but look who's talking, huh ? can you believe that some people think intel agents can't show them up at these events ? "
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demian’s dark gaze bores into the side of xavier’s countenance , their brow furrowed slightly as the only evidence of their annoyance . they aren’t as irritated with the fact he burst into his office as much as the topic he’s bringing up — who the hell believes in those things , for fuck’s sake ? demian expells a deep , loud sigh , containing the urge to pinch the bridge of their nose . " first of all , that tarot thing is a pile of bullshit , you know , i know it , everyone knows it . your father isn’t coming anywhere near you , and even if he were— " a heavy pause , another sigh held back in their throat . they dismiss the last bit of his rambling , yes , of course i’d miss you bounce against the walls of their mind . " even if he were , you’re a mercy asset now , a solaris subject , he can’t take you away , he’s not that powerful here . " it sounds cold , they know , to call him an asset , a simple object to mercy , but that’s what he is — something the organization invested on , they’re not letting him go , much less against his will , and that saddens demian as much as it relieves them . " jeez , why would i even commemorate having to exist alongside you? " they reply to his proposal , feigning offense and disgust . " besides , this is not our cubicle , it’s mine , and you’re interrupting me . so why if you commemorate us outside , away from here ? " a smile grazes their features then , lacking joy and overflowing with derision . it is not what they really feel , but this is how they work — they annoy each other , pretending they don’t care because it is safer that way .
⇢ ˗ˏˋ a starter for @tvrmoils, feat. demian ... setting: mercy hq.
"i don't think answering my parents' call is wise these days," he hums as he reads through the random notes that he's been scribbling on himself. it's a totally arbitrary piece that he copied from the internet after he received it from a website that asks for a hefty price for an accurate tarot reading. "these future predictions scare me. if what is said is true, i believe it means that my dear father will just go straight here in his private jet trying to kidnap me home. and you know, once i'm back in seoul, i don't think i'll ever see this place again, locked up for life. if that happens, just know i'll miss you, alright?" he grins, giving off that cheeky vibe, annoyingly so. "with that in mind, how about if you treat me to food sometimes? to commemorate our existence in this cubicle together." and it's not even his office, since he pretty much broke into demian's a while ago just to 'hang out'. uninvited, of course.
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you think you’re waiting for love to find you when in reality it has saved you in a thousand different ways since the sun rose today
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✦ DYLAN PARKER » committed yet judgmental thirty - eight year old weapons division head agent who goes by she + they pronouns and is always toying with an ancient gold coin between her fingers , a gift from her grandmother that helps her in moments of disquiet . born in chicago , illinois , often can be seen immersed in a poetry book ( that’s sometimes a history one , or a romance novel ) ; taking her lovely dog valkyrie on a stroll ; or buried in a new project , a new trial , anything that would make her division thrive . determined as a racing horse , but mistrusting to the core , dylan deeply enjoys the bitter taste of their black morning coffee , working in the quiet of the night & taking their grandmother out for dinner every friday . lawful neutral , taurus sun & history enthusiast , she identifies as a bisexual demi woman , has the terrible habit of mixing energy drinks with coffee to stay awake , and has been part of the mercy organization for one week . ©
THREADS . WANTED CONNECTIONS . AESTHETIC .
⸺ I , BASICS .
full name : dylan theodora parker . nicknames : dyl , theo ( grandma rights only ) . preferred name : dylan parker . age + dob : thirty8 + may 7th . birthplace : chicago . illinois . gender + pronouns : demi - woman + she / they . s / r orientation : chaotic bisexual . faction : weapons . codename : agent wire . spoken languages : english , spanish ( native ) , brazilian portuguese ( conversational ) . significant bonds : simone parker ( mother , deceased ) . theodora parker ( grandmother , alive ) .
⸺ II , PERSONALITY TRAITS .
positive : committed , determined , creative : neutral : guarded , collected , sensitive : negative : judgmental , aloof , mistrusting : zodiac’s main three : taurus sun , gemini moon , libra rising : moral alignment : lawful neutral : temperament : choleric - sanguine .
⸺ III , BACKGROUND .
you’ve always considered yourself a monster , what else could someone who kills her mother so they could enter this world be ? you grew up guilty of a sin you didn’t commit , yet you never believed your grandmother’s words , who with anguish in her eyes tried to rid you of it .
you’ve always considered yourself a monster , so as a monster you grew up . prone to violence you learned how to keep on a leash , to intrusive thoughts that kept you awake at night , yet as morning came , you also learned how to hide it , in the shadows of your heart and the darkest corners of your mind .
she saw you as you were , though , your grandmother , but her love never ceased . and maybe , just maybe , her love was your salvation , her trust in you , her endless belief in the goodness of your heart that was never truly there . still , her hope was unbreakable , and you tried and will always try for her .
sentinel came as a beacon of light ten years ago , raised rough around the edges , hardened by the painful reality of your neighbor , a neglected thing on the outskirts of chicago where people couldn’t even dream of having a different life from their unescapable fate shaped them to have . not you , though , never you . your anger gave you purpose , and when the time came , sentinel gave you an intent , too , a way to unleash your rage in a manner you never knew you could have , without hurting people or yourself .
building weapons was a respite . you didn’t know you had an intrinsic talent for it , however , you did , and the violence of the objects tamed yours at the prospect of a necessary brutality , one you couldn’t escape , one you didn’t need to .
by the time you were promoted , mercy showed up around the corner , and your purpose turned stronger — now you could really do something aside from destructing everything you touched , in the end , they were good assets to society , weren’t they ? and the idea of finally helping to protect , to save , to do some good with your tainted soul made you believe , for the first time , you might not be a monster after all . how could you be when doing good makes so much sense ?
⸺ IV , HEADCANONS .
i. dylan has a brown pitbull terrier named valkyrie , she’s a soft , very trusting baby , friendly with people , and a protector of cats .
ii. despite their tough core and intrusive thoughts , they have very gentle hobbies and a passion for romance novels and poetry .
iii. her grandmother is the most important person in her life , probably the only one . she’s a quite older woman who has kept herself healthy thanks to sentinel’s ( and now mercy’s ) biomedical advances .
iv. she highly prefers to work at night , there is something about the quiet of those hours that make her thrive , although this led her to develop quite an addiction to mixing energetic drinks and coffee .
v. they’re a greek mythology and history enthusiast , if they trust you enough , they can talk your ear off about it for hours .
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#01. fellow weapons agents ( open ) . — people she somehow trusts and goes to with ideas or when she hits creative blocks . her relationship with these people is amenable , often trying to maintain a good work environment .
#02. a close friend ( 1 / 1 ) . — this is , probably , the only person dylan trusts to the fullest , the one that knows the most about them , even has met her grandma and spent time with both of them , getting to know their dynamic that’s so different from how dylan is on the daily . how it ended like this can be plotted , of course ! * taken by blake arcanum .
#03. a fwb ( 0 / 1 ) . — aloof and mistrusting as she is , this relationship started as simple friends , most likely one of the first ones she made . there was tension from the beginning , but it took them a while to fall into de fwb dynamic . it can have feelings and angst involved or not , that’s totally up to plot !
#04. someone who often listen to their ideas ( 0 / 2 ) . — brainstorming is something dylan and their creative mind need desperately , so having a few people who are willing to listen and even give them input about their potential projects before they take them to the other head agents would be awesome . they can be friends or just acquaintances , and dylan can definitely give something in return so the relationship is reciprocal . these people are part of the select group that see dylan being more open , less cold .
#05. someone she can’t stand ( 0 / 1 ) . — or who gets on her nerves , or makes them scowl constantly . it can be because she thinks them lazy or mediocre , because they’re just annoying to them , or whatever other reason utp ! the thing is , it’s an antagonistic type of dynamic and dylan is even more unfriendly than usual with them .
#06. drinking / fun times buddy ( 0 / 2 ) . — they need to relax . fr , desperately . so this person is that chance , someone who’s more lively than them and drags them out of their workaholic shell .
#07. someone who knows their dark side ( 0 / 1 ) . — just like her grandma , for some reason , they discovered or saw dylan’s darkest side , know about their aggressive nature , and intrusive thoughts . and and as much as her grandmother , they’re strangely accepting of it .
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the message that made her phone vibrate had been a bucket of iced water , and she still felt the cold rippling down her spine as searing drops of dread . a simple look around allowed her to locate most of her trusted agents , settling on them for a second with charged eyes , yet she didn’t make any attempts to reach out to them ( “ do not cause any attention . stay on alert . ” ) , only huffed her annoyance and kept her spine tense and straight as a bowstring while waiting for further commands . this is what she hated about mercy , being a soldier , the lack of freedom , the abundance of orders — this was supposed to be a boring night taking her away from what she yearned to do the most , but why was she surprised , even ? this is what mercy was about , too: shady affairs , endless pretending , failure to be greater .
as she drowned in her irritation , the voice coming from her side , only a few steps away , took her out of her reverie . grateful to be ripped away from her fuming thoughts , sabine offered the woman a slight , almost unnoticeable smile . " i’m not sure , i haven’t heard of anything like it before , but i’ve been here only seven years , " it felt like a lifetime , but considering mercy has been around for over thirty years , the only in her answer seemed appropriate . " we haven’t met yet , haven’t we ? " she inquired then , brows slightly furrowed , mind navigating its memories to locate the foreign face , yet nothing came out of it . " i think i haven’t seen you around before . i’m sabine , sabine bogelot . agent verbena , if you please . " hand extended with her introduction she bore her eyes into the gorgeous woman’s own , orbs glinting with an unlikely interest .
the governor's ball. march 31st. @tvrmoils
for the millionth time that night, anitchka wished she was somewhere else. another room. another city. another fucking country. anywhere else but at the governor's ball, dressed to the nines (there had been a mediocre attempt to cover the split lip, the bruised cheekbone), surrounded by strangers in a country she had never spent more then a few days in. none of her carefully laid plans involved living in america of all place. well, none of them involved loosing her brother either.
fucking poxy agents here. how do fucking headquaters get broken into? jesus ani, you're fucked. her brother's voice filled her mind as if he was right there next, spilling expletives that would get him very pointed looks if anyone had heard him. she turned her head, response ready on her lips. then stopped, laughter dead on her lips. oh. he wasn't there. she almost forgot.
instead she found herself looking at a young auburn haired woman instead. in her attempt to locate danya before the speech, she hadn't clocked who she had ended up standing next too. (a failure. fuck anitchka, you know better then this). "has such a thing occured here before?" the question left her lips before she could convince herself otherwise. she'd been in the country for two days. she knew no one. it was safer to sound stupid once then end up dead later because she hadn't asked a question.
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" julia … we literally were prohibited from talking about the memo , did you really think there would be some form of scandal ? " yeah , sure . a scoff followed her words , evidencing how absurd the idea seemed to her ; mercy controlled everything around them , and sentinel even beyond that , something akin to an indiscretion was hardly plausible . although , if sabine was honest , she also expected something more … thrilling . " do you think it is wise to look for entertainment after that message ? " she questioned then , dead serious for a second , eyebrows raised in challenge . still , the smirk slowly stretching her lips let the other know she was on board with the implicit proposal . " i have a flask with tequila and … uhm , drugs . " the offer isn’t shy , yet it is , somehow , insecure — she doesn’t know if getting high as a kite would be the best idea , but her level of boredom was quickly enticing her to simply drag julia outside and fuck everything else .
agent arachne & agent verbena : governor's ball, wherever there's food ( @tvrmoils )
" well, this is rather dull, " jia says, a pastry in one hand and a glass of white wine in the other. " here i was thinking there'd be something exciting ... scandal, someone spilling secrets ... but it's all just people chatting. " she glances over at the unlucky soul who's ventured close enough to be caught in the orbit of their chaos. " any ideas on how to induce a little excitement ? "
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" eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed in offense , a soft yet acid asshole is murmured under her breath . the seriousness of his statement is something unknown to sabine , but this is how they work — recalcitrant , rude toward each other , taunting in a way that��s hard to read . hence , she wipes the offense from her face because it is her turn . " oh , right , because questioning is made through the eyes , i totally forgot , " sarcasm drips from the words accompanied by a derisive smirk that widens at warden’s admission . " of course you’re hangover , your responsibility and commitment are truly outstanding . " sabine hands her coat to the employee standing right outside the cloakroom and seizes the place — it is not crowded , but the amount of people still makes her stomach churn . just the thought of this time being spent at something more productive ( like researching ) makes an aggravated huff fall from her lips .
the icy temperature of her third drink was welcomed between her hands the moment sentinel’s ceo made his way to the stage , eyebrows raising to her hairline at the announcement he made at the end of his boring to death speech . however , as an vexed comment hung from the tip of her tongue , the lights flickered unexpectedlyfollowed by the vibration of her phone that took the grimace on her face away . the notification iced her blood for a fleeting moment . " fucking hell , amazing , " she whispered , rolling her eyes , containing the need to pinch the bridge of her nose at the inconvenience .
attagirl, two chips wedged off the same voracious block. leave it to them to meld their own opportunities from a work event neither had been particularly excited to be in attendance of. " come to think of it, " looking down to her from the slope of furrowed brows, makes note of how uncharacteristically tall she had been for the occassion. " sometimes i wish i never had. " he doesn't mean it in any capacity of harm but knows it is not a sentiment that would befall deaf ears. for too long had they made enemies of each other. " my eyes, they're sensitive to questioning. " sights diverge momentarily, perhaps to oggle someone else in the distance while he adjusted his glasses. ward clears his throat just then, " and perhaps i'm a little hungover. "
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" what prompted her to act like this , like she was acting with imara , all pliant and flirty , was a thing she found unable to explain — it could've been the two and a half boulevardiers already running through her system , or the fact she was bored to death , however , the instant was broken when the response that came from her agent was expelled like her usual , asshole self . " god , " she murmured with an eye-roll , retrieving her hand ( that had moved at her own accord , an action that tainted her cheeks crimson at the realization ) . yet , as she prepared herself to leave her standing there , imara surprised her as usual , as if she had read her goddamn mind , and sabine’s jaw dropped slightly . " oh , hell , how— " the question was interrupted by a grin , wide and suddenly excited , filling her eyes with mirth . the expression only broken by an arrogant scoff . " please , france smells like shit , quite literally , you don’t want me to take you there. " tone dismissive , she looked at the bottle in imara’s hands for an instant and bit the inside of her cheek , contemplative . then , swiftly and softly , made a motion to grab imara’s wrist , right at the moment sentinel’s ceo was introduced to the public , sending her idea of a respite from this godforsaken mockery directly down the toilet . fucking fantastic .
" aww, " a mocking pout graced imara's face as she tilted her head playfully - yet - condescendingly, " what ? can't handle not being the center of attention or something ? " not being able to help being ... momentarily distracted by the warm closeness, and sabine's lips, a light chuckle slipped through her's. " and ... " pulling a bottle of white wine out of her almost comically large bag, which somehow didn't raise any suspicions, she grinned, " if i told you i already have some ? you know, " she shrugged a coy shoulder, glint in her dark brown eyes matching the other's, " in case of emergencies like this one. — so where're you taking me then ? france ? "
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