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A shake of her head and a single step back brought Lena’s hands to her side though she immediately shoved them in her back pockets. “I can’t argue with that,” the assassin hummed, “but stay alive, please.” The resonant squeal of steel dragging atop steel diverted her gaze. “Time to disappear,” she directed mostly at herself, nodding once to Fletcher. “Have a nice life.”

“Oh I plan to,” he replied, having every expectation that his life would be nothing but grand. He’d been a hero to the people, made a brilliant escape, and kissed a gorgeous stranger: things could only keep going up from here. “Thanks for everything, Lena,” he added, pulling the other strap of his backpack of his shoulder as he gave her one last wave. And with that, the young hacker was off, making an all too chipper march off to the train that would take him on to his next big adventure. He only hoped it was as wonderful as his last.

Gaze trained on the tracks ahead, Lena had almost forgotten they weren’t running off together. The night had been far too enjoyable for a simple ‘deliver cupcake to a location alive’ mission and, admittedly, Lena was sad to see it end– if only because it meant she would have to make the trek back to the castle after curfew and alone. “Not a tragedy, got it,” Lena affirmed, finally turning to catch Fletcher’s sunshine smile. Lips pulled taut in a grin, Lena silently admired the guy’s guts. He had seen her kill a person earlier. “Alright, well prepare yourself for drama,” she shrugged, though the enthusiasm broke through as she leaned forward to wrap her arms around Fletcher’s shoulders. 

Despite very clear instructions, Fletcher was absolutely unprepared for Lena’s magnificent break from the long pattern of rejection Darren was used to. Though utterly astonished, he still managed to play his part in their dramatic reenactment, placing a hand on her waist if only to brace himself for her unbridled enthusiasm. Of all the thoughts to go through his head while a gorgeous girl was kissing him, Fletcher couldn’t help but wonder why in the world action heroes kissed the girl before they departed; it made it all but impossible to find the motivation to step foot on a getaway train, let alone take a single step back.

“Switzerland, it is.” Lena could have done more to abate the dip in tonality, several syllables lingering near crestfallen, but she was never one for façades. A certain tarnished gleam reflected softly from the train tracks, as though the iridescence of the moon was trapped beneath the worn steel beams. “Alright then, James,” the assassin acquiesced, “what else do we need to complete your adventure?” she questioned with a smile as they stopped. “I’m not dying, so that’s off limits.”

Fletcher flashed a smile most unbecoming for his newly acquired title, but he was all too pleased for Lena’s participation in the fiction of a happy ending. Adjusting his small backpack as he glanced over his shoulder, he turned to properly face his new partner in crime. “Oh no dying of course, this isn’t a tragedy,” he assured because to Darren, it truly wasn’t. Just the continuation of a long and fascinating story. “But I do believe now’s about the time when Bond has a dramatic parting kiss before he disappears into the night,” he suggested, cheeky as always. He expected a parting slap more than anything else, but no amount of negative reinforcement had cured the boy of his terrible attempts at romance.

“Well actually Angie said your optimism and general Neutral Good-ness would have gotten you killed because you were so good. So not necessarily ‘too good’ just ‘too good for your own good’ basically.” Lena had forgotten her hand rested in his until she went to gesticulate, promptly halting the action. “Is that actually where you’re going? No, wait. Don’t tell me that. It’s better if I don’t know.”

Fletcher managed a nod and a mumbled uh-huh as Claire made her exit, far too lovestruck by the small show of affection to give a proper response as his features lit up with a delayed blush that luckily no one was around to tease him for. Smiling to himself as he closed the door, he determined that perhaps Roma wasn’t all out to get him. There were certainly some people worth staying for. “See you next time, Claire.”

“Thank you, thank you, I’ll be here all week,” he responded with a gracious and dramatic bow, carefully handing back the guitar. “And see, there is a band in the works, I knew it!” he declared triumphantly, proud to have plucked out some confidence from the talented girl. It was at that brief moment of victory, however, that no less than three separate phones went off at once, all hidden under the mess of wires that covered the coffee table. “Oh...shoot...hold on a minute.” scrambling the silence the cacophony of buzzing and beeping, one thing became very clear. “Hate to break up the band, but I think this is my cue.”