Something Borrowed, Something New
WHO: The Latvian mastermind(?) and the Norwegian in his tower
WHERE: The Charleston to ???
WHEN: June 10th; 5pm
WHAT: A friend in need is a friend indeed and Raivis knows full well what it is to be trapped and restless.
Raivis's cheeks burned red.
It wasn't embarrassment, not really. Nor guilt (though that he felt in abundance) nor pleasure (God, no) nor distress (as so often was the culprit). He ducked his head, dived from shadow to shadow but the sun still scorched and his face remained transformed into a rosy parody of an over-eager, mischievous child.
Not for the first time or last in his life, the poor lad cursed his stature before sliding from beneath the overcast cool of a tree's branches to the open, garishly brightened sidewalks.
He was a man on a mission and heatstroke be damned if he was going to be stopped by a mounting tension headache and mild dehydration because the walk from Ivan's office was a long one and his pockets had been dried to lint many moons ago.
The Mission? 'Rescue' Sindre Myhre. Level of Difficulty: As of yet undetermined. Obstacles: Plus one Concerned Sibling, plus one Berwald Oxenstierna and an assortment of miscellaneous surprises he wasn't certain he was prepared for.
The Plan?
None.
It had been an innocent assumption that he could concoct something on the way but the closer he came, the drier his mind seemed to be- parched like his throat, leaving him nervously wringing his hands together as he approached mildly familiar shop fronts with the outline of the complex looming oh-so-near.
His (trembling again) fingers curled over his cell, stroking the keys as though willing it to come to life. Offer him a solution.
Or word from Sindre that the man even wanted this to begin with.
Raivis's cheeks burned red and his blue eyes squinted into the blinding summer light.
WHERE: The Charleston to ???
WHEN: June 10th; 5pm
WHAT: A friend in need is a friend indeed and Raivis knows full well what it is to be trapped and restless.
Raivis's cheeks burned red.
It wasn't embarrassment, not really. Nor guilt (though that he felt in abundance) nor pleasure (God, no) nor distress (as so often was the culprit). He ducked his head, dived from shadow to shadow but the sun still scorched and his face remained transformed into a rosy parody of an over-eager, mischievous child.
Not for the first time or last in his life, the poor lad cursed his stature before sliding from beneath the overcast cool of a tree's branches to the open, garishly brightened sidewalks.
He was a man on a mission and heatstroke be damned if he was going to be stopped by a mounting tension headache and mild dehydration because the walk from Ivan's office was a long one and his pockets had been dried to lint many moons ago.
The Mission? 'Rescue' Sindre Myhre. Level of Difficulty: As of yet undetermined. Obstacles: Plus one Concerned Sibling, plus one Berwald Oxenstierna and an assortment of miscellaneous surprises he wasn't certain he was prepared for.
The Plan?
None.
It had been an innocent assumption that he could concoct something on the way but the closer he came, the drier his mind seemed to be- parched like his throat, leaving him nervously wringing his hands together as he approached mildly familiar shop fronts with the outline of the complex looming oh-so-near.
His (trembling again) fingers curled over his cell, stroking the keys as though willing it to come to life. Offer him a solution.
Or word from Sindre that the man even wanted this to begin with.
Raivis's cheeks burned red and his blue eyes squinted into the blinding summer light.