Sebastian Moran (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
precisionfocus) wrote2012-02-09 08:21 pm
precisionfocus) wrote2012-02-09 08:21 pm
(no subject)
For the last month, Sebastian Moran had ignored the almost daily text messages that came from a blocked number. he was not desperate enough to work as a bodyguard. He would, he told himself, be back in the field soon.
And yet...
"Sebastian, I can't help you until you are ready to help yourself. Now, let's talk about Jake. You--"
"Fuck this."
"Sebastian?"
"You heard me. Fuck this."
"Sebastian, please sit back--"
"I'm done."
[blocked number] 9:20 AM
The job's still open.
[me] 9:25 AM
Won't agree to anything until we meet.
[blocked number] 9:25 AM
Time and place. My treat.
[me] 9:26 AM
Can pay for myself. Kelly's at 7.
...And yet here he was, sipping a soda at Kelly's, wondering what the hell he was getting himself into with even just this meeting.
"Hey, Seb!"
"Hey Gina." He always sat at this table, and she always had the section.
"Meeting a date tonight?"
Sebastian looked at her. He knew-- paying attention to the people around him paid off more often than not-- about her recent break up with her boyfriend. She'd be looking for a good rebound fling before they got back together. He smiled. "No date, but I'd love to have one tomorrow. I've just got one problem."
"And what kind of problem would you have with getting a date?"
"I don't have your number."
She blushed, giggled, and bent over to write it on one of the paper napkins. He pocketed it and watched as she walked away. At least, no matter what else happened, tonight had not been wasted.
And yet...
"Sebastian, I can't help you until you are ready to help yourself. Now, let's talk about Jake. You--"
"Fuck this."
"Sebastian?"
"You heard me. Fuck this."
"Sebastian, please sit back--"
"I'm done."
[blocked number] 9:20 AM
The job's still open.
[me] 9:25 AM
Won't agree to anything until we meet.
[blocked number] 9:25 AM
Time and place. My treat.
[me] 9:26 AM
Can pay for myself. Kelly's at 7.
...And yet here he was, sipping a soda at Kelly's, wondering what the hell he was getting himself into with even just this meeting.
"Hey, Seb!"
"Hey Gina." He always sat at this table, and she always had the section.
"Meeting a date tonight?"
Sebastian looked at her. He knew-- paying attention to the people around him paid off more often than not-- about her recent break up with her boyfriend. She'd be looking for a good rebound fling before they got back together. He smiled. "No date, but I'd love to have one tomorrow. I've just got one problem."
"And what kind of problem would you have with getting a date?"
"I don't have your number."
She blushed, giggled, and bent over to write it on one of the paper napkins. He pocketed it and watched as she walked away. At least, no matter what else happened, tonight had not been wasted.
no subject
The importance-- and he'd learned this in the Army-- was to have five back-up plans without milling about. To perform an escort mission from point A to point B in as little time as possible but to be aware of every possible angle of attack, both made and to be made.
Questions, yes. One very important one.
"What, exactly, am I being paid to do?" There was a difference between an assassination and an escort mission, between being a bodyguard and being an enforcer. He wasn't going to suit himself up for and play one role if he was supposed to play another. If he didn't know what his job was, he couldn't do it correctly.