Let's Have a' go at it.

“Well, G’day ta ya too.” Mick smirked as he looked down at the woman. Crossing his arms as he took in the familiar sight of the half-pint ankle biter. “Awe, would ya’ say ya missed me then? That sure does bring a tear ta’ me eye fer sure. How ya doin’ kiddo?” 

He had been scanning the area around him through the scope when he smelled the scent. Although warm tobacco was a common smell on the battlefield, this one was unique. Its odd mixture of spices mixed within it reeked of pompousness. Making Mick scrunch up his nose as he pulled away from the sight. His blue-grey eyes scanning the surrounding area before landing on the lone Spy.  He smirked. ‘Playing nice today are we?’ He silently mused to himself as he pulled back the gun. Giving the man a quick nod to come up as he disappeared from the window. Finding a seat nearby on a crate away from the window. Not wanting to be shot down by the other team’s sniper while they had their chat. 

Oh man it’s been a while since I’ve drawn Mick, god I’m rusty.

Questions has been flooding in her head since dinner was confirmed, wondering what kind of topics should they talk about. What does Mick like to talk about? Would he be willing to hold the conversation if she have to be the one to make them throughout the night? What should she ask him about? Would he ask her why she ask him out for dinner? All these questions are starting to hurt her head, forcing herself to lie down for a bit before it was time to get ready.

She heard his voice called out from inside. Glad he was there instead of inside of the base. Wait, of course he would be at his van of all places. Focus, think on the current thoughts now. Such as should she enter inside his van or wait a bit more till he opens the door.

It was the latter. Seeing him with a cigarette in his mouth got her raising her eyebrow again. Nothing judgemental, probably his clothes but she said nothing. Though let’s hope he doesn’t smoke like a chimney like Spy does. She’ll hate the fact that she’ll have to wash these clothes and shower to get rid of the smell. Coming from someone who had smoked in the past and on the occasionally.

“And leave you hanging and checking your clock every half and hour?” Her hands rested on her hips, her head cocked to the side. “I would have came earlier to ask for a raincheck.”

She entered into the van to witness the mess he have inside. Almost looked like a tornado happened in here. Then the sight of his clothes shoved against the corner answered her question for his current outfit.

“Lead the way, love.”

His tone changed for a moment when he gave her a warning. That caught her attention and he was earned a raised of her only eyebrow at him as if she was confused why he say that. Then again, the way she spoke and her mannerisms doesn’t say ‘tough looking’. Not to mention she is an aristocrat, of course she was raised to be a lady but since her teenage years she has been playing dirty for survival.

If Mick could see the form of where her eyebrow on her scarred side when he gave her another warning, it would be raised judging by her good eye narrowing in view. Nonetheless, she agreed to his terms too.

“As you wish, lad.” It was a half roll of her eye but she still agree anyway. “See you then.”

And she did. A few minutes early from 6:30 to be safe. If Mick believes she would take her sweet time getting ready, forget it. Natasha was dressed in black shoulders to feet. The turtleneck shirt, the gloves, her pants, and the combat boots she can at last wear. The only thing that stood out was her red leather jacket. It was her favorite thing to wear. She wasn’t wearing her mask for tonight and she has pulled her hair into a ponytail.

Looking at her watch to see it was 6:30 sharp, she knocked on the van’s door to alert her arrival.

While she fumbled with her words, she fumbled with her fingers too. Her robotic ones to be precise. Twisting and turning the finger she goes for while her eye rather than looking at Mick’s face but his work. She watched as he assembled his rifle back together with such ease and grace that she nearly trailed her words off. Nearly fumbling as she suggested dinner outside.

Focus.

Natasha waited patiently and quietly while Mick put the last bits of his rifle back together again. Her hands now clamped together in front of her, the cold metal pressed against the warm flesh slick with sweat. Be calm Natasha. It’s only dinner out as co-workers though she feels the potential rejection would feel the same as a rejected love.

Her ears perked at attention to Mick’s acceptance. A smile formed on her masked face quickly before it dropped midway and her eye blinking at him. Processing what he meant at first. “I…” She opened her mouth after her end of silence and close it to form her words again.

“I accept your agreement, Mick.” She nodded her head once. “Will 6:30 be alright for you?”

The Medic halted in his tracks, blood boiling to the top and threatening to explode. He was at a loss for insults, the rage inside him suggested that he just lace into him. Depending on who hit first, it’d either be assault or self defense, and Vin never swung unless he had to. But Mick was tempting him to wipe that stupid smile off of his face. He pivoted around to face him again.

“What’s the matter, couldn’t come up with something better than ridiculing me on my physical appearance? What are you, four years old,” he sneered, folding his arms tightly over his chest, swinging his hips as he strode back over to him. “Is your ego so fragile that you resort to insulting my features? That’s actually quite simple and tragic. If you want to inflict long-term damage to my pride, you’re going to have to try harder than that.”

Attitude….HA! He’s the one with the problem. Vin knows about people like him, how they just sit back and watch the world silently, how they observe from afar, and only comment when spoken to. They usually had nothing good to say, especially with such a nihilistic mentality, and if they did, it was to get a rise out of their target. He had already come to him in a blaze of fury, so any kind of further provocation only ruffled his feathers. Mick was one reply away from getting slapped.

“Why you–” It took the last bit of constraint to hold back another insult, but the blows that the sniper dealt were quite bruising. Not only did he dismiss him again, but he took to ridiculing his body to rub salt in the wound. Vin’s confidence would cross over the line of egotistical at times, and this made him jump over said line.

“You think you’re so tough and intimidating. Well, you’re horribly mistaken because I don’t feel threatened by a man who pisses in jars all day,” the vampire practically snarled, with his upper lip curling to hide the red color of his lipstick. “The only fool that I see here is you. The next time I see you injured on the field, I’ll be sure to kick some dirt your eyes when I pass you.”

He took a step back, and turned around to stomp away, but– “Oh, and one more thing,” he swiveled back around to face him once more. “Make sure you get a good look at my ass when you peer through that scope of yours.”

The Medic pivoted again and resumed leaving. 

“There are much more dignified ways when dealing with one’s anger, Herr Sniper,” he seethed through clenched teeth and widened eyes, the fingertips now pressing into the pelvic bone of his hips. “But perhaps I was silly to assume you had any dignity in the first place. Why you couldn’t think of one, I shall never know.”

So he used his precious heirlooms as an outlet for his anger, huh? Well, that’s just fine and dandy! Maybe he should ransack his truck when he’s furious, or destroy his weapons when he has to “let off some steam.” He was not to be dismissed so easily, nor taken lightly, and he planned to make him see that. Would he be petty enough to actually do it? Only time will tell.

When Mick went back to his task as if he just swatted an annoying gnat, that’s when he moved closer. He shoved his face into the latter’s, so that their noses could’ve touched if he so much as moved another inch. His brows were angled so sharply that harsh creases formed in the center of his glabella.

“You don’t seem to get it, do you,” he spat, one straw closer to breaking the camel’s back. “I’m not to be taken so casually. You don’t know me like you think you do. I came here to give you a warning that if you so much as cross me one more time, you’re going to regret it.”