"Agent?" she said softly, looking grim. "What kind of agent?" She felt a cold lump in her gut. This was starting to feel like Noah all over again. No. No. Sandra shook her head, pushing that out of her mind. He'd mentioned it. Whatever it was, he wasn't hiding anything.
"Why don't we go inside first and I'll explain it. I'm a sitting duck in the car." He moved to open his door as he grabbed the beer from the back seat. "You're in the need to know." He stole a glace to see if he was being watched and felt confident that he wasn't.
She stalked up the path, her body radiating tension. She didn't need this, didn't need any surprises. Her hand shook slightly as she fitted her key to the lock.
He certainly noticed the change in her demeanor and the shakiness of her hands. Sheldon wasn't about to just keep her in the dark when she deserves the explanation. Something also told him that the tension was much more than just the words. Something deep rooted and frightening caused her to react like this and it certainly wasn't from the excitement of intrigue. This was fear and he could sense it.
Once inside, his stoicism returned. He was mentally preparing himself for an argument. He stepped through the living room and set the beers on the coffee table. "Okay, here's the skinny. I'm CIA. I travel to exotic places and kill bad guys. It's a loose definition, I know but the details are little sticky. Can you handle it or should I give you a pair of rubber gloves and a scraper just in case?"
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Once inside, his stoicism returned. He was mentally preparing himself for an argument. He stepped through the living room and set the beers on the coffee table. "Okay, here's the skinny. I'm CIA. I travel to exotic places and kill bad guys. It's a loose definition, I know but the details are little sticky. Can you handle it or should I give you a pair of rubber gloves and a scraper just in case?"
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