Post by Deleted on May 24, 2014 13:52:13 GMT -8
Late. He was late. And she was growing impatient.
For what felt like the millionth time that bitter, cold night, Angel glanced at her sleek black watch and tapped her foot agitatedly against the stony floor of the cathedral. She was supposed to have met the informant, a man with the codename “Mercury”, twelve minutes and twenty-seven seconds ago. No wait. Make that thirty seconds. It was making the FOL operative frustrated, to say the very least. This was supposed to be a simple meeting – he would arrive at Saint Pauls, give her all the information she needed for her next mission, and they would part ways. That was that; easy as pie.
But no; he was late. Fourteen minutes late now.
In the dark shadows of the cathedral, Caitlin waited, hidden from sight. Decked out completely in black, she would have been completely invisible, had it not been for the piercing blue eyes that practically shone in the darkness. That icy, cerulean blue was an unnatural shade for her. It had taken a while for her to become accustomed to the contact lenses, but eventually the odd sensation became routine to Angel. The blue-eyed, black-haired (a wig, in this case) disguise was all part of the get-up for her role in FOL. After all, a redhead running away from crime scenes was too memorable. At least dark hair and blue eyes was somewhat normal in comparison to a flaming head of red. It had worked so far, anyway.
But hm. Mercury was still late. Shit.
Gritting her teeth in more-than-slight annoyance, Angel drummed her fingers on her folded arms as she stared intently at the large stain-glass window which loomed impressively over the space of the alter. The moonlight was shining dimly through the panes, casting a few, very faint yet colourful reflections on the floor in shimmering pools. It was a beautiful sight, and would have been much more enjoyable to view had she been here as a tourist or something. Not growing even more impatient with each passing moment because that bloody idiot was so damn late –
Oh. Footsteps? More than one pair, by the sound of things.
Her ears had perked up at that, and slowly, Caitlin turned around in the dark to see who it was who was approaching her, down the aisle. She was only supposed to meet one man, yet there were most definitely two male silhouettes drawing in closer from the shadows.
A smirk tugged at her lips, followed by a single eyebrow being raised in amusement. Looks like she had just run into some strangers. It was obvious these men weren’t your average citizens; no normal person would be crazy enough to be out in a place like this at this time. No, these men were either lawless, or too lawful. Oooh, this was certainly going to be interesting, whatever the outcome.
“Hello, gentlemen,” she purred out with a voice as smooth as honey, directly addressing the approaching figures. “Is there something I can help you with~?”
For what felt like the millionth time that bitter, cold night, Angel glanced at her sleek black watch and tapped her foot agitatedly against the stony floor of the cathedral. She was supposed to have met the informant, a man with the codename “Mercury”, twelve minutes and twenty-seven seconds ago. No wait. Make that thirty seconds. It was making the FOL operative frustrated, to say the very least. This was supposed to be a simple meeting – he would arrive at Saint Pauls, give her all the information she needed for her next mission, and they would part ways. That was that; easy as pie.
But no; he was late. Fourteen minutes late now.
In the dark shadows of the cathedral, Caitlin waited, hidden from sight. Decked out completely in black, she would have been completely invisible, had it not been for the piercing blue eyes that practically shone in the darkness. That icy, cerulean blue was an unnatural shade for her. It had taken a while for her to become accustomed to the contact lenses, but eventually the odd sensation became routine to Angel. The blue-eyed, black-haired (a wig, in this case) disguise was all part of the get-up for her role in FOL. After all, a redhead running away from crime scenes was too memorable. At least dark hair and blue eyes was somewhat normal in comparison to a flaming head of red. It had worked so far, anyway.
But hm. Mercury was still late. Shit.
Gritting her teeth in more-than-slight annoyance, Angel drummed her fingers on her folded arms as she stared intently at the large stain-glass window which loomed impressively over the space of the alter. The moonlight was shining dimly through the panes, casting a few, very faint yet colourful reflections on the floor in shimmering pools. It was a beautiful sight, and would have been much more enjoyable to view had she been here as a tourist or something. Not growing even more impatient with each passing moment because that bloody idiot was so damn late –
Oh. Footsteps? More than one pair, by the sound of things.
Her ears had perked up at that, and slowly, Caitlin turned around in the dark to see who it was who was approaching her, down the aisle. She was only supposed to meet one man, yet there were most definitely two male silhouettes drawing in closer from the shadows.
A smirk tugged at her lips, followed by a single eyebrow being raised in amusement. Looks like she had just run into some strangers. It was obvious these men weren’t your average citizens; no normal person would be crazy enough to be out in a place like this at this time. No, these men were either lawless, or too lawful. Oooh, this was certainly going to be interesting, whatever the outcome.
“Hello, gentlemen,” she purred out with a voice as smooth as honey, directly addressing the approaching figures. “Is there something I can help you with~?”
tagged - donald o'neill-kirkland/icy, vash zwingli/asu; words - 506; notes - that title... thank chels for it
