ARCHAEOLOGIST'S DAUGHTER.

part ii. || no longer accepting

     ‘Is that your excuse?’

    It’s teasing officially, Chloe’s oh so serious tone offset by the way her mouth curls into a smile. God, she’d known she hadn’t SEEN her in a while, but this — wow. Imagining Elena like this wasn’t an impossible feat, with the way they’d both retired from the illegal side of the business, but being blindsided when the all-of-5′2″ journalist opened the door already looking ready to pop wasn’t expected. Then came the exclamation – Why didn’t you tell me?! – followed by the counterpart, I thought I did. 

To be fair, Chloe’s phone had busted even with her new case, but she wasn’t willing to ADMIT that she didn’t get an alert from Elena because she couldn’t.

part ii. || no longer accepting

‘ Heh— ‘ 

    The laugh is dry and brief as she catches her breath, beads of sweat coating bare skin in the dim light. She ENJOYS these nights, these times of success where it calls for celebration of all types – good food, good wine, good room, good lay. Even as she brushes stray strands out of her face to get a better look at him, there’s a sly smirk there that in no way indicates she’s DONE. 

part ii. || no longer accepting

    The words make her snap to him, stray hair freed from her ponytail swinging across her shoulder. It was rather unlike him, to say the least; they’d been in hairy moments BEFORE, but self-preservation was a necessary quality in gigs like this, and to get all heroic now was borderline SUICIDAL. ( Which, apparently, is what he’s fully intending. This idiot. ) 

    How noble of him to try and make his last stand now, rounds low and tired limbs struggling to keep up with the demands of a getaway, but a quiet moment must offer some reflection. There’s still more men lingering, searching here and there for the two vagabonds, and she can only imagine the trials && triumphs of completing this job alone. Good payday, still dead.