(Untitled)

[ladybugcute]

Angela doesn’t pause, can’t pause with her foot tapping against the chair-leg, but she bites her bottom lip and thinks for a moment.“Europe?” She says at last, slowly. From the other end of the phone, Fleming continues

Comments

[kissedabull]

"Um - hello."

It's a kid, maybe fourteen years old, peering out of an alleyway at her.

[ladybugcute]

Slowly, she lowers the gun.

"Who the hell are you?"

[kissedabull]

"Jeffery. Jeffery Magee."

The gun is not a good thing. At all. He's eying it.

[ladybugcute]

Well, she's rather fond of it.

"Ah...huh."

[notsellcookies]

Marcus isn't stupid; he knows that her gun could hurt him, if she shot. Could kill him too, if she got him in the head. But he's also relatively sure his reflexes are sharp enough that he'll be able to at least partially cover his head if she shoots; his armor can take more than a few shots from such a weapon.

Meanwhile, he's just going to keep his Lancer trained on her, staring down the length of the gun with a well-trained eye.

"If ya put down the gun right now, I'll tell ya what the hell just happened to you."

Why does everybody he meets have a gun on them?

[ladybugcute]

She spins around, tiny and cute and almost crackling with anger.

"How about I just not point it at you, and you do the same?"

[notsellcookies]

When he first arrived, that wouldn't have been an option. He would have sent a shot over her shoulder, asked her again, and there wouldn't have been a third time. But he's getting softer, he supposes. Being around people after four years in solitary is having a slow, tiny effect on him.

"...alright." Maybe he underestimates her for being a woman; maybe he thinks he's got a lot better chance of surviving if she tries anything smart. Either way, he starts to lower his gun slowly, making sure she's doing the same.

[ladybugcute]

Which she is does, just as slowly as him.

"Okay. So, mister, where the hell am I and where the hell is my office?"