02-09-2014, 02:31 PM
Claire kept a flat expression. She'd doled out as many blunt rejections of interest as she'd received in her time. Basically since the days of kindergarten sandbox flights of fancy. One would think she would be an expert by now, but alas, she sat anxious to know what was running through Tony's mind.
His first answer was polite enough. Claire knew what it meant, too. So she reconciled herself to getting her stuff together to leave, but he looked into her eyes and something ominous crossed his expression. Knowing the power at his fingertips, a flicker of fear rose, but only until he spoke again.
She was soon grinning. She liked his bluntness. Playing word games and juggling social norms was eye-rollingly annoying. Her mood was cut short, though, when the topic changed subjects. Claire knew exactly what he was talking about, and her mind shot straight back to Brooklyn. She was suppose to be dead just like Tony, and also just like him, she had no intention of actually dying
"I'll take you up on your offer."
It was a relief to say. Not just because motel money was running low. But Tony cut this dangerous edge, like studs on a leather coat. He was cool, but prickly and dangerous, but underneath actually quite warm and practical. She liked the combination, and the Moscow accent was hella sexy. "I think I know exactly what you're talking about. You know that story I showed you about home? The man who broke in was there to kill us, and he said there were 'suppose to only be three of us,' and was surprised to see me there. He was sent, but I don't know by who."
There was a defensive glint in her eye. He wasn't going after anyone else any more.
His first answer was polite enough. Claire knew what it meant, too. So she reconciled herself to getting her stuff together to leave, but he looked into her eyes and something ominous crossed his expression. Knowing the power at his fingertips, a flicker of fear rose, but only until he spoke again.
She was soon grinning. She liked his bluntness. Playing word games and juggling social norms was eye-rollingly annoying. Her mood was cut short, though, when the topic changed subjects. Claire knew exactly what he was talking about, and her mind shot straight back to Brooklyn. She was suppose to be dead just like Tony, and also just like him, she had no intention of actually dying
"I'll take you up on your offer."
It was a relief to say. Not just because motel money was running low. But Tony cut this dangerous edge, like studs on a leather coat. He was cool, but prickly and dangerous, but underneath actually quite warm and practical. She liked the combination, and the Moscow accent was hella sexy. "I think I know exactly what you're talking about. You know that story I showed you about home? The man who broke in was there to kill us, and he said there were 'suppose to only be three of us,' and was surprised to see me there. He was sent, but I don't know by who."
There was a defensive glint in her eye. He wasn't going after anyone else any more.