Andrew Eberhart

‘’How could you not like me? I’m fuckin’ fantastic?’’ Olivier was laughing, and it felt so natural even if the action itself seemed devoid of who the man had allowed himself to become. But behind his eyes, there was something sinister. It was there, lingering, awaiting to pounce on anyone that dared challenge the man. ‘’You aren’t too bad yourself.’’ He added to the round of the compliment the man didn’t know how to take. 

For a man who was usually bashful about those kinds of things, at least.

‘‘The scotch is the reason I spend uncontrollable amounts of hours here.’‘ With that, he raised his glass toward the other man, the corner of his lip tilting into a smirk. ‘‘That, and of course the women—’‘ for the first time in a long time. He wasn’t thinking about her. 

The bitch with tits. It was a new name he’d come up with this morning; it helped, sometimes.

‘‘Are we on a black out drunk kind of vibe, or a slow and steady?’‘ Truth be told, Olivier would be on the black out drunk route, regardless. Anything that would help him fall into a deep sleep to which he wouldn’t have to worry about the dreams that he knew would come. 

‘‘Or, we could do something else?’‘

-

“Something else, huh?” Andrew said light heartedly, “Well, you’re a handsome devil, but I’m afraid I don’t swing that way.”

The fog was particularly dense, to the point that Andrew’s headlights had a hard time cutting through the mist to light the road. Condensation formed on the windshield, enough that every couple minutes, the brit had to hit the windshield wipers just to see. Desk duty had been atrocious. Command was dragging its feet with the investigation, and he’d been reassigned until they could be sure he’d followed agency protocols in Prague. He had, of course, but that didn’t mean the higher ups wouldn’t use his case as a chance to play politics. As much as he hated desk duty, it had slowed down the pace of life for him. He’d had normal, banking hours at work, weekends and evenings off, and no overtime. He hated every minute of it, but at least he felt more rested than he usually did. The slower pace of life had... opened his eyes a bit. Helped him see everything with a fresh set of eyes. It also gave him a lot of time to think, which always scared him. Self reflection was something Andrew hid from habitually, because he never cared for what he’d find.  Loneliness. A life spent serving people who ultimately didn’t care about the sacrifices he’d made. Or the sacrifices of his brothers and sisters. Those who had never made it back.

His grip on the wheel tightened as he thought about what could have been. What if hie hadn’t been orphaned so young? If he’d chosen a normal career, such as a broker, or an insurance agent, or hell, even a copper?  Where would he be now? Would he be a husband? A father? In all his years, his relationships had never lasted long. Sure, he’d blamed work, and them, but he knew it was how he chose to live his life that had been the cause of the breakups. He’d been married to his job for so long. Looking back, there’d only even been one person he’d been able to see himself spending his life with. One woman. And he’d pissed that away.

He picked up his phone as he drove, scrolling through the contacts to find the name he’d starred at many times. It’d been years since he’d heard her voice, seen her smile. Andrew’s jaw clenched. He moved to close the phone, as he’d done every time before.... but he changed his mind at the last second, selected the number, and hit call. After several rings, the number went to voicemail. His grip on the phone tightened slightly as he heard her voice, and he took in a breath.

“I like you already,” Andrew said in a friendly way, taking a sip of his own scotch as the man ordered his own drink. Since his reassignment to desk duty as the atrociously long investigation into the incident in Prague dragged on, he’d found himself stopping off at different bars more and more often after work. He’d taken to trying establishments at random. Tonight, he’d stopped off at a classy joint in Soho called Smoke and Mirrors-- where he found his suit helped him fit in with all the other patrons.  Andrew tipped his glass toward the man who’d ordered next to him. “Bit of an upscale joint, isnit? Might have to come back here again-- scotch isn’t bad either.”

He is when I tell him to be.

Nevra had the good sense not to say that out loud. The fact that the man wasn’t reaching out to pet Sabir when most other people did indicated that he might not be fond of dogs. Normally people jumped at the chance to try to pet him. Luckily for them Nev had trained him well.

“He is, don’t worry. Sabir.” The dog turned immediately and came to sit by her side. He received a treat and a pat on the head. She looked back at the problem in front of her. The man most likely had a weapon but it wasn’t like she could ask him outright. To go around accusing people of carrying such things was idiotic. 

“His name is Sabir. We were just doing a bit of training. You don’t happen to have dog treats on you? He’s usually not distracted by other people.” Nevra gave him a bright, completely fake smile. She’d perfected the art of looking genuine. 

~

The woman that approached him was, for lack of other words, beautiful. Her smile was completely disarming, and for half a moment, Andrew found himself in the peculiar situation of being lost for words. Odd, he thought after blinking once, clearing himself from the fog of enamourment. He pushed out a smile, trying not to appear off his game. “I don’t, sorry,” He said with a crooked grin, “Fresh out I’m afraid. If he’s a fan of cats, might be Thomas’s sent.” Yes, he named the cat after his best friend.  “I’m Alan, by the way,” He said with a friendly smile, extending a hand but being careful not to place it over the dog. “Sabir’s gorgeous, how long have you had him?”

Olivier all but laughed, a roll of his eyes as he shoved his drink into the air; yes, there was always a woman involved. Not usually for him, however, this was different; she was different. But that was a conversation for another time, he didn’t want to go down that hole today, not with someone he didn’t know very well, at least. ‘’This woman…I need to forget about.’’

He did, and that was why he’d thrown himself into his work.

Scotch, a nice choice. Olivier was prone to drink a MacCallan himself, unless he was on the rum; a favorite of his. ‘’What scotch are you drinking?’’ He questions, as he reaches and takes a sip of his own whiskey, a hum in satisfaction followed. ‘’I’m a whiskey man, always have been.’’ Which in truth, was because that’s what his father had also drank when he’d been growing up. 

‘‘Hey, at least I got a drinking partner now.’‘ He laughed, as he took a second to look around the room and take in the surroundings. ‘‘Well, Alan, I have to ask—’‘ He offered a smile ‘‘Are you out here just to drink, or am I playing wing man for you this evening?’‘ It was a half joke, but in reality, it’d make the nigh a little more entertaining, of course.

@mobscene-starters​

“Sabir, gelmek.”

The dalmatian bounded to her side and looked up at her with such devotion she couldn’t help but smile. He’d been such a comfort to her the past few months. Watching him grow from a puppy into this obedient, loving creature brought Nevra more pleasure than she’d thought possible. 

Anyone passing by would think they were just out for a romp in the park. They were, in fact, training. The breed needed extra attention and structure and she’d found out the hard was that if Sabir didn’t have a task, he became destructive. He’d already torn apart three throw pillows and a pair of sneakers. So she’d decided to teach the dog something that would be useful. 

Finding weapons.

The assassin had hidden a few of her knives in the grass and around the trees. They were in a relatively isolated area of the park so the likely hood of someone else picking them up was slim. 

“Bulmak.”

She watched as the dog trotted off, sniffing around the place. He’d been going for the one under a nearby tree when something else caught his attention. Someone else, actually. Sabir approached them, sat down, and barked. Nevra cocked her head to the side. Interesting. That was the action she’d taught Sabir for when he found his mark. 

Too far away to see who it was, Nevra started towards them. She didn’t, however, call Sabir off. Better to keep him there if the person posed a potential threat. 

-

This is what retirement must feel like, Andrew realized as he walked through the park, enjoying the fresh air and the sun on his skin. Administrative Leave with Pay may have not been the best thing in the world, but he’d be lying if he’d said he wasn’t enjoying it. Besides, he knew he’d be cleared in the investigation. He was certain it hadn’t been his bullet that had hit the cop in Prague, and the shooting had been unavoidable. He hadn’t been the one to make the mistake, so no matter how ‘concerned’ they claimed to be about the ‘implications of the depth of his cover’, he was honestly unconcerned with the investigation. It wasn’t his first, and certainly wouldn’t be his last.

While crossing through the center of the park, a dog approached. A dalmation, to be specific, which was unique in of itself because he almost he could count on one hand the amount of times he’d seen one in person. He tensed, stopping in his tracks, as the animal approached. He had never been fond of dogs, and had been bit by three during his career. None of these experiences were pleasant, and had rather alienated him from the species.  It sat before him and barked, in a way that eerily reminded him of the Met’s drug sniffing dogs. Though he wasn’t carrying narcotics, Andrew could feel the cold steel of the concealed pistol in his waistband. While not one to usually carry on home soil, his business with the Russians in London had definitely been a concern of his when being out and about. Andrew put on what must appear to be a very forced smile as the canine watched him, and his eyes flicked upwards to the woman approaching, who must have been the animal’s owner. “They’re a beautiful dog,” he called out, unsure of which gender it was. “Are they friendly?”

Elaina didn’t know if to sneer or to laugh. The place definitely did not have a great choice, which meant all the lousy students or whoever they were - came to get drunk rather than enjoy the place. Normally, she wouldn’t be caught dead in places like this. But work called for different situations. Farid taught her that she couldn’t shy away from palaces, if she was in a location, she needed to know it all. 

“A bar to run out of something? Sounds like they are not prepared for anything at all.” Which either meant they were worse off than she thought or crowds were not a usual thing for them. “I give it an hour. Some girls will come talk to you, men to me. Try to buy some cheap shots. OR worse, sambuca.” Finally, the bartender spotted her sitting there and Elaina was able to order over-the-counter whisky. “Well, as long as I am stuck here.” 

-

He frowned into his glass as he took another sip of his scotch. “I mean, it’s not Smoke and Mirrors,” He allowed, referencing the more up-town, “classy” joint, “But it’ll do in a pinch. And besides, we were both young and rowdy once, weren’t we? I’ll give them a break.” A friendly smile was quickly hidden by the glass again, as he took another long pull from the glass. “I’m Alan, by the way. It’s nice to meet you, miss...?”

Olivier looked at the man inquistevily, if only for a moment; Alan? The dude sure didn’t look like an Alan, but he quickly passed it off as he offered a smile to the other, taking his hand and giving it a firm shake before returning his hand to his leg. The man seemed nice enough, but Olivier was also aware that men that were overly nice sometimes had something to hide, for that reason he would sit on the fence for a moment, watching him with an intense eye. 

He could never be too careful. 

‘‘Thank you, that’s kind.’‘ Olivier states, with a nod of his head to show his gratitude. As he turns more towards his new friend, Alan. What had brought him here tonight? The need to escape, that was the main reason he’d ventured out here, and he’d sat in his chair moping for the rest of the evening, in hopes he’d have a better time than in his apartment. 

‘‘You could say that I just let the world get on top of me—’‘ He chuckles, in hope it was mask the rest of the real reasons. ‘‘And a woman, not my girlfriend, but a woman…’‘ Lisette had been sat on his mind for a while, he was hoping that someone would come along and be able to take it away, even if only for an hour; the propsect of going to Vixen after this was getting higher with each passing moment. 

‘‘How about you, Alan?’‘ Olivier asks, as the drink arrives he raises in thanks. 

-

“It is a lovely day,” she remarks crossing her arms and noticing Michael -one of her younger security guards- taking a wider stance near her. Michael was nearing half her age and since being assigned to her always gave her the feeling of an over protective son watching over his mother. She didn’t mind it, but it was somewhat interesting to watch in a public setting. 

“Alan,” the Frenchwoman repeats, “I’m Lisette,” extending her hand turn down for him to shake was an unspoken sign of her manners and hours of etiquette lessons in childhood. “We just moved here last month. A new job for me,” she says vaguely and looks him over a moment with an arched brow, “What do you do for a living, Alan?”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” He said politely, shaking her hand gently as he motioned towards the girls. “They seem very happy,” he commented, his eyes tracking the security guard more than really watching the girls.  “I work in the software industry,” he replied automatically, wishing for the millionth time he had a better cover than that of the IT guy. “I develop software for companies globally, which unfortunately means I’m not home much. But I do enjoy being able to get out and see the world.” Almost word-for-word what he’d been taught to recite, all those years ago. “Not too interesting, but the pay is alright. And yourself?” She had the air of authority- he hoped she wasn’t another banking executive or something similar. Not that he had anything against women in positions of power, mind, but in those he had met thus far into his professional career had a somewhat... prickly demeanor. Or, perhaps it was just those in the intelligence field. Who knew? He honestly didn’t meet many people outside his work circles. “Movie star? Politician? Secret agent?” Andrew gave another friendly smile. He cracked himself up.

Elaina didn’t even try to control herself as she rolled her eyes. The waitress, of course, was going to flirt back, hoping for better tips. Now, she wondered if the man himself wanted to sleep with her or not. 

But; she still needed a place to sit. With a sigh, the Frenchwoman sat down, and nodded to the man. “Thank you. I didn’t realise it was going to be so full at this time.” But it was good to note. Something to keep in mind in case she ever needed to use the place. 

“You may not bite, but that doesn’t mean I won’t.” 

-

Andrew glanced around at the busy bar, taking in the numerous couples, business associates and solo drinkers. “The liquor isn’t half bad, honestly, which is probably the reason for the crowd.” At her remark, he raised an eyebrow and grinned, but declined to respond. She gave off the impression she might be quite serious. “They’re out of Tequila, if that’s your thing,” He cautioned, motioning to a handful of University-aged kids across from them. Several empty bottles sat on the bar before them, and shot glasses were scattered across the wood. “Shockingly, they haven’t gotten too rowdy yet.”

@mobscene-starters​

Watching her daughters play happily together felt like nothing short of a miracle after this morning. Cole had drank more than his fair share and woke up with a hangover. Both of her daughters woke up with attitudes to revile their relatives, and decided it was the perfect time to fight one another. Lisette nearly pulled her hair out over their bickering, and decided to take advice her Aunt once gave her and put it into practice. If a baby is fussy; sun, snuggle, or swim. Of course it was meant for babies, but Lisette was desperate. Throwing all other plans for the day out the window- Lisette told her girls to get dressed because they were going to go outside.

Now at the park, the twins happily played together in their own world while Lisette watched. Of course she had two plain clothes security guards with them at all times now it seemed. Lisette was not a member of the French Mob, but being family of the leader of an international organization came with curtain way of living that Lisette had grown accustomed to now. Did she like it? No, but she knew that it was best for her children’s safety. 

Feeling a presence next to her, Lisette could not imagine it was anyone but her security nearing her once again, “For the third time, I am fine-” Turning to see the figure at her side, she pauses, “I’m sorry, I thought you were someone else,”

“Forgive me,” Andrew said quietly, “I hadn’t intended to startle you.”  It was a nice morning, and like most Londoners, he felt such mornings were best spent outside.  While they’d made an effort to blend in, Andrew had spotted the security immediately. Perks of being in the Security Service long past a decade, he supposed. He’d thought maybe she was an MP, or something similar, but as soon as she’d spoken, her accent gave her away.  This woman was a foreigner, and most likely not a high-profile figure in the government.  Which begged the question... why the security? Andrew was on paid administrative leave, and as such the details of which foreign dignitaries were in country was not something he was privy to. “Beautiful morning, isn’t it?” He said lightly, observing one of her guards move a bit closer, obviously uncomfortable with th newcomer and keeping a close eye on him.  “Seems like we don’t get enough of those around here.” He offered her a hand, with a friendly smile. “I’m Alan. Are you all new the neighborhood?”

Olivier wasn’t even sure how he’d ended up here, a long night to blame as he wiped tiredly at his eyes, a huff falling from his lips slightly; he was still unsure if he wanted to go home ot continue his night. But there was a voice that seemed to slice through all the noise as he turned his gaze to the man.

‘‘You don’t bite.’‘ He reiterated, a small smile tugging at his lips. ‘‘Good to know.’‘ He states, slipping into the chair without a second thousand as he raised his hand to order a drink. And turns his gaze back to the man once again. 

‘‘Olivier—’‘ He offers his hand. ‘‘— And you are?’‘

“Alan,” Andrew responded easily, shaking the other man’s hand firmly and giving him a smile. “You look like you’ve had a rough night, mate,” He said lightly, nodding his head as the bartender came over. “Put it on my tab, please, love,” the Brit said easily.  “So, Olivier, what brings you here tonight?” The amber liquid was near gone in his own glass, and as soon as it touched the bar the young woman was filling it up again with more scotch. Andrew gave her a friendly smile and looked back to his drinking partner. “Lost the love of your life? Got fired? Dog ran away?” He cracked a grin. “All of the above?”

Watching him ‘switch’ in front of her was a rather remarkable thing. One moment, he was charming and even cheeky with her- the next he was cold and some what menacing. If Jessica had not known any better, she could have mistaken it for separate personalities. “Hey, give your speech laying down,” she says standing up and placing her hand over his wit her other supporting his neck. Gingerly laying him back in the bed, Jessica watches the monitors a moment to insure he remained stable before looking back to him.

“Look, I don’t care to know why you have two names. That is your business. All that is my business is making sure you can leave here better than you got here, okay?” Moving his hand, Jessica looks over his head wound once more and sighs, “I am the only one assigned to you because they deemed you nonurgent and unlikely to need surgery. If you keep trying to sit up and move around; however, you might make yourself worse. I suggest you keep still unless I tell you otherwhile.” Her strong face of a working professional softened as she let out a slow breath and looked to his eyes, “My name- is Jessica. What would you want me to call you?”

‘Good’ she thought, ‘he can talk’ Jessica wrote down on her IPad the name he gave her, well aware that people were likely to lie when they came in under the pretence of ‘requesting’ her. “Andrew. Andrew I’m Jessica,” she says smiling softly down to him. His comment about woman in scrubs causes her eyes to roll, “Inside voice, Andrew” she jokes lifting his arm to adjust a blood pressure cuff, “and seeing as how you got yourself in the A&E- you will see lots of scrubs,” she points out quickly taking down his blood pressure now that he was conscious, “if you behave, I might even give you their name so you can try to shoot your shot,”

“Nurse Reyes,” the voice from the door comes with a knock and Jessica swiftly removes the cuff and walks to the door, “These were his personal things we had to remove from him upon arrival. I thought he would want them if he wo-” the older woman then notes the very much awake man on the bed and jokes, “Well I am glad to see you still have the magic touch with even our most peculiar visitors,”

Jessica keeps a cool face, “Thank you Nurse Jones,” Jessica says simply and closes the door promptly. “Lets see if you have any medical warnings I should know about, Mr. Eberhart,” Jessica opens the bag on the side table and easily finds the wallet, only to flip it open and feel her stomach tighten, “Mr. Eberhart,” she repeats and turns to look at the man in the bed, “You understand that I am a medical professional first and foremost,” her tone -once light, teasing, and friendly- now serious and concerned, “Mr. Eberbart… Who is Alexander Petrov?”

“Can I have you name then?” He asked with a sly smile, which quickly changed to a grimace of pain as he tried to turn his head, which ached something awful.  “Peculiar?” He mumbled indignantly, “I am nothing of the sort, I’ll have you know, I resent that accusation-”  Who is Alexander Petrov?