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Green fluorescent lighting illuminated the myriad of faces meshing into the crowd, my skin still feeling the tangible tension sticking to me like humidity on a scorching summer's day. Continuing to maneuver through the ocean of gawking eyes, my red locks bounced against the small of my bare back while my ears keenly listened to the words mumbling off others tongues. While keeping my visage expressionless, my beeline of sight trailed towards the most secluded, empty table residing near the back of the room, but not before catching a familiar face beyond the bustling shoulders fading from focus; my eyes honing in on a head of pristinely kept hair that was now facing my figure striding towards him.
"Well look who it is." Winston sarcastically mused bringing the glass of dark liquor down from his lips twisting into a smile, softly gesturing with an open palm for me to sit down as my ears began to register a melodic tune wafting through the air.
"It's all gone gray, not a hint of brown left! Oh Winston, time hasn't been kind to you." I wisecracked playfully pressing my hand against a lopsided grin spreading across my lips painted a vibrant wine red.
"Guess your time overseas made you all the more a pain in the ass, Stalin." He exasperatedly sighed combing his fingers through his grey strands of hair glistening against the soft lighting above.
"So, am I to know the name of whatever helpless child I'll be working with is?" I implored briefly scanning my surroundings with hungry eyes, my tone verbally eager to get my hands on any information regarding the stranger that'd soon be a pestering thorn in my side.
"You'll know when I want you to know, Sloan." Winston calmly dismissed, yet again, with an amused smirk tugging the corner's of his lips, gesturing once again for me to sit down as a familiar face crept within his eye's view.
How convenient.
"Something funny?" I continued gently cocking my brow towards what exactly he found to be so humorous; however, before I could decipher his reason, the presence of someone approaching sent every hair atop my neck to stand pin straight, causing every muscle in my body to visibly tense up as my knuckles curled until they turned a pressurized white.
"Jonathan." Winston professionally greeted as the dark, mysterious man I met previously loomed over the table I was positioned at; his brows still intensely furrowed as if he were internalizing something of great concern, his very presence emitting eerie mystery as if it were poignant cologne.
"Winston." He politely nodded in response while allowing his trailing eyes to wander towards my stiffened figure sitting idle with an expression indicating I was attempting to decipher his body language. Unsure of the disquieting feeling of an attentive pair of emerald eyes on him, the assassin continued striding past the table as a nagging pang prodded at his gut like a knife's jagged edge; finding it odd to have run into the vexing redhead yet again in the span of mere hours.
"I'm gonna need a drink, always a pleasure, Winston." I exasperatedly sighed propping myself up with the help of my hands positioned flush atop the table top, cutting the older gentleman a lopsided smirk as he dismissively tipped the rim of glass towards me.
