Distraction and Observation (Manifesto)

[Nesrin Aziz]

There was always such a delicious sensation inside when softly wrapping another around your fingers, not with unnatural coercion, but with charm. For that reason, the enamourment with which she looked up at Eddie was entirely real. Nesrin enjoyed the thrill of capturing someone, but equally enjoyed the simultaneous sense of being captured, and Eddie looked at her then like she was important. Even if it was just for the night she was more than happy to lean into the moment; to let the connection spark and catch aflame, and to let him feel in control.

She smiled, enjoying the breath deepening in her chest, and allowed that whatever you need to linger like a sultry promise between them. Then she slipped her fingers back inside his, and began to lead him on.

Nesrin was awash in a self-assured confidence, a little playful with the backward glance she gave him halfway, black hair spilling over her shoulder. Inside she was calculating though. Wondering desperately about that spike. Could the Emissary have found her already? With Wicked on board that seemed unlikely, but maybe it was too early to tell how safe he’d be able to keep her. It was part of why she’d worn the scarlet tonight – there'd been plenty of choice in all the expensive dresses lining the condo’s walk-in wardrobe. But she’d wanted to make a mark; see how easily and quickly Wicked could erase it if she needed him to.

The Archivist had arranged a private table, one that was sheltered from prying eyes, but also meant she could not see who was waiting within. There were fewer people in this section of the club, where those with the wealth and inclination relaxed away from the heated frenzy of the main dancefloor. She glanced at the security, felt her pulse hike a little – the heady mix of thrill and fear. She knew next to nothing about the Jackal, who he was or what he represented, but she knew enough about the Archivist’s reputation to know this was a risk worth taking. Authenticated by him, interest in the Key would go through the roof. But more crucially, she might better understand what the fuck it was.

She turned back to Eddie, coaxing the scotch back into his grasp for a last moment of closeness. By now her heart was thrumming in genuine nerves and anticipation. The emotion was clear in the liquid darkness of her eyes, but so too was the stubborn confidence of survival. “If something bad happens in there, I’ll call for you?” She phrased it as a question even though she already had his word, wanting him to feel needed. Then she smiled. Eddie was the only one who’d know she felt vulnerable. “Wish me luck,” she whispered, sharing a wink before she finally let go of his hand, and disappeared inside.