A Reckless Soul | Captain America ✓

THE HUSTLE

THE party was nothing grand, but boring, and actually gave Audrey a headache. She would much rather be in her jail cell, having to be tied down there, then play the rich, stuck up snob for the night.

Her piercing dark eyes in the dim lighting surveyed the sea of people by the couches, dance floor, and the bar. They stayed glued to the individuals who chatted, and murmured among their friends. She suddenly yawned, becoming sluggishly tired and craved the hard mattress of her cot. She had been given specific orders by dear ol' Fury to keep her eyes alert, and sharp in the crowds. She was not to talk or mingle with anyone, both of which she had no pleasure in doing this evening, or ever in fact.

She may not have shown it, but she was grateful that Fury didn't put her to work in something else, something more, complicating. Her weary eyes drifted to the bar and snagged the bartender, who handed a glass of white wine to a lady. Her chin slightly elevated in thought. Perhaps one drink wouldn't do any harm as I look around for this so-called fella, Fury's looking for.

Her heels clapped the smooth surface of the floor as she made her way over to the bar. She leaned her forearms on the counter as the bartender saw her, and drew near. "What can I get you?" he asked, a smile scarcely edged his lips.

"A glass of red wine," she responded, no smile accompanied her own face. If she had to endure a few hours of torture here, she felt no inclination to be civilized around these people. A second later, the man was back with her glass of alcohol and gone the next. She was yet again thankful for no small talk on his end.

Folding her left leg over her right, the split in her dress falling and exposing a bit of her thigh and her whole leg from the knee down, she took a sip of her drink and kept an eye on the crowd at the same time. A loose strain of hair fell and blocked the corner of her eye, but not so much that she didn't see the stranger in a blue button up take a seat next to her.

"Recognize anyone?" Audrey turned her head to the right and saw a blonde man seated next to her, who reached over the bar to grab a bottle of beer behind the counter.

She first eyed the man, then had to ask, "Excuse me gent, but who are you?"

Twisting the cap on his beer, and tossing it on the counter, he threw a bored look at the assassin as he said with a pinch of annoyance to his voice, "Steve Rogers." And took a swig of his drink.

She scrutinized him again, then looked out into the throng of people and simply stated, "No, not yet I'm afraid."

"Well look harder, we don't have all night," he declared, a bit of grouchiness bordered his tone.

"Why?" she started. "Is there somewhere else you have to be? Another party perhaps?" A smirk formed her lips, which in turn made Captain America's patience run thinner than paper. To her amusement, he didn't feed her flames with more wood, but instead, sipped at his beer staring at her, then out to the rest of the crowd.

They were soon greeted with silence. A few times, without her knowledge, the super soldier would glance sidelong at the brunet assassin. He wondered what exactly went through her head as her eyes danced along, and through the people. Suddenly, he held out his hand for her to take, and gruffly said, "Maybe if you're closer in on the action, you'll see something."

She eyed his hand, like a cat who turned their nose up at their food, when she flatly replied, "I'm not taking that."

"You have no choice, I'm afraid," he mocked, his face humorless. "It's just a dance."

She laughed bitterly, eyes on the strangers across from them, and had to ask, "Do you even know how to dance?"

Steve's mouth thinned, he held his tongue. "I do," he said simply, and without warning, grabbed her wrist roughly and half dragged her away from the bar. She yanked back, and her small wrist slipped through his fingers like butter. The soldier whipped his head back at her in question.