Access Denied: The Bullseye

19. Safehouses by the Seashore

When Cory Davidson himself comes as an escort to your new safehouse, it is something special indeed. 

First: there are his choices in music. A man in his early sixties in pin-striped suits with a deep timber and a spy past didn't seem entirely usual singing to the Cardigans whilst driving through the long empty roads.

Second: there are his choice of road trip buddies. Marlowe Agnor (once a dear friend of Genevieve's, now a teen scorned) and Kinrara Deaton (strong silent spy with a strange affection to the scorned teen next to her).

And her -- a klepto and now declared suicidal. Unsurprisingly, there are no sitcoms she could recall that quite fitted this scene. 

Third: even Davidson knew the people he brought on were the worst conversationalists. Perhaps that's why he was so adamant on voicing even the guitar parts to 'My Favorite Game'.

"Who is Garnery by the way?" She ended up asking.

A reflection of Deaton's eyes laughed in the rear view mirror. Her face remained impassive as she looked to Davidson, awaiting an answer.

Davidson's tapping and humming stopped. "The agent responsible for you when I drop you off. Very competent."

She would've asked more but he seemed tight-lipped after that.

Upon entering the new safehouse, a gun cocked into place. Instinct kicked in and she stood in front of Marlowe, albeit her angst at being shielded. Deaton had much the same idea but didn't move forward.

"Oh, it's you."

"Yes, Cory. Me." A sardonic British accent came through, the raised gun relaxing.

A woman no taller than her stepped into the open and took quick strides towards them. She gave the Director an even look, not too pleased or irked by his presence. A hurried glance spared at Genevieve and Marlowe and a firm handshake for Deaton. She assumed this was Agent Garnery, responsible for her and the safehouse. Why a British agent was taking up her case and operating from the South Atlantic of the country, she did not know. The agent was on the older side with smile lines and forehead creases. She wore a button up, tucked in with flair trousers. She exuded a similar kind of natural elegance Davidson did, one you could only exude if you weren't trying very hard. Her face was expressive as she spoke to the Director on the side.

"That's her?" Genevieve asked weakly. "Agent Garnery. She's on my case?"

Deaton looked at her a long while before she said yes. Of all people who'd known of her hospital break, Deaton was the most relaxed. For some reason she was not on edge like the others were. Kiara Deaton didn't spook easy.

That said, there was still an amount of hostility there. The occasional wary look or quick chat encouraging her to 'try look at the positive. And hidden somewhere there was the same suspicion Flynn carried that day to her ward. She knew he hadn't said anything -- to him that would be unnoble. Out of team spirit and all.

Agent Garnery --side from being British and posh -- was thin and bird like. Compact shoulders ending in the dantiest wrists with slender fingers. Her mouth rested in a displeased pout, her cheeks high but too hollow, too pale.

"Garnery. Pleased to meet you Genevieve," they participated in a strong firm handshake. She had the feeling that it could've been stronger, should've been stronger. "I hear you're French?"

"Canadian."

"Oh of course. I'm in need of practising it, I'm french on my mother's side and been spending too much time with the English... and recently Americans."

She could only nod. It was advised to not over exert herself in conversation to manage stress.

"Stupéfiant!"