#0azrae7

it was easy to dissimulate with everyone else. pure strangers with no ties to her past. but simon used to be acquainted with a part of maria that was now long buried and forgotten. the mere apparition of a woman who had died with her family on that harrowing october day. she’d worked too hard at blocking out past memories, refraining them from bleeding even a morsel of humanity back into her soul. yet, when he’s staring at her, it’s as if he can see right through the mask, a glimpse of the mother / wife she once was. as if a part of that warmth still resided within the ruthless, cold blooded murderer she had become. head sinks down slightly, avoiding his overwhelming scrutiny that seemed to dissect her better than she cared to admit. “there’s nothing to tell, simon. i’m just trying to move on with my life.” aka shut out the pain by playing target practice with sitting ducks on THE LIST. “you sure as hell don’t seem the same since the last time we stood in my kitchen.” cognac orbs peering up to emit some of that strained heat onto him. “you wanna talk about that?” drowning in the silence before arching a knowing brow. “yeah, i didn’t think so.”

the silence hangs between them, before she suddenly brightens, a spark of excitement lighting up her expression. " what if we had a team name? " she suggests eagerly, her enthusiasm bubbling to the surface.

passing by an elderly man, she airs, “ livin' the dream? ” he has a face she recognizes, but she sure as shit hasn't spoken a word to him in the entirety of her time in boston. he gives her a crooked up turn of his nose for a response in which she chuckles at, like they're friends or at the very least acquaintances, because on her backside she can feel the heated stare of a patrol guard watching her move through the streets. something or other about that boredom again. “ yeah, yeah. slim pickin's, i know. what're ya gonna do. ” her right hand fingers snap into a languid display of a finger gun as she carries on. feels her backside go cold. the guard must've grown bored of her. and a sly grin is worn for only herself.

she runs over the plan in her head: cole will have the boarded up tunnel point ready for them. if there's sign of trouble it's johnny who will be waiting a few blocks north to warn 'em. if johnny ain't there 'cause he's wound himself in lockup for the third damn time in the last six weeks then dawn'll be there. without dawn, well, it's real lucky she never relies on anyone else to ensure she gets from point a to point b. the sound of thunder echoes in the disaster as she nears the meeting spot. visibly, it relaxes her; though she hardly ever holds her stress in her physicality. maybe a clenched jaw. hard set eyes. her shoulders are near always relaxed, a little slouched. leaning back and taking it easy. makes her more approachable until you meet her eyes a little too longer. still, a storm would be a good score to their back end traversing.

@0azrae7 said: " if you're lookin' for attention, there are other ways. " / prompt.

mara lays sprawled across his seat, like a stretching cat, mischievous and cunning. she's been there for at least an hour, having sifted through grim's belongings and secrets already — not that he has any. no pictures, no art, no real belongings other than clothes that smell of him. she's wearing one of his hoodies, the wintery chill biting at her skin. the jinn says nothing as he enters his residence. he doesn't switch on the light, manoeuvring through the darkness like a spectre. like he too is a cat, able to see into the night. she knows he knows she's there.

unbothered, in his glamoured form, he comes to a halt in the centre of the room. silence eats away at the space between them. mara's too stubborn to break it. if you're looking for attention, there are other ways. her heart flutters and she smiles to herself. can he see it? " i like this way, " the jinn tells him honestly. she knows he sees right through her. this way enables her to see him in his natural habitat. alone and carefree. she knows he doesn't put on a show for her.

CHARLOTTE: NO, BUT IF I ALWAYS WAITED FOR WHEN YOU LOOKED IN THE MOOD, I DON'T THINK WE WOULD'VE HAD SAID MORE THAN A DOZEN WORDS TOTAL TO EACH OTHER THIS WHOLE TIME, SPOOKS.

The agent would not be deterred. Her words darted like the violent, chaotic staccato of an out - of - tune piano carelessly hammered on, and it was just as jarring. No doubt headache - inducing, her own ears briefly ringing with the bell - like striking of her chipper tone ricocheting off the concrete walls. It was quiet here and she figured that's why Ghost liked it; isolated, away from the rest, away from the game, a place to haunt all by his lonesome. . . as ironic as that was, for a haunting could not manifest in solitude, not by its very definition. This, of course, raised the question: who else was here with him? Not anyone she could see, but that didn't mean there wasn't anyone there; this, the void - borne creature, with her false flesh and hollowed chest, this she knew all too well. She, a singular form yet never alone. So she searched, entering his space like darkness swallowing a horizon over twilight, dusk, then night.

She dragged a finger - tip over a nearby tabletop, as if to check for its cleanliness, ( spotless! or lifeless? ) her steps slow, her head on a languid swivel as if she'd just entered a picture gallery, but there was only one figure of interest here and by - and - by, her attention was drawn to him. What use was there to pretend that she was here for any other reason but to see ( read: bother ) him? Oh but what were partners for?

there's not quite a twitch on her inclined face... except for that of tight jaw flexing, with harsh eyes directed up, up, upward to crafted facial covering. the epitome of emotionless, and not offering one single inch.... as though she'd ever ask for one.

I will give no quarter, nor waste arguments where they will certainly be lost.

seemingly so different to the men who's visages are proudly displayed, and who's immediately sever the emotional tie they intend. their foolish, outward, and smirking displays of machismo only diminishing their credibility. a trait she would immediately point to commander graves, as an example of. could never be ashamed of what a man such as he had to say.

you spent your entire career in the special air service staring down frightening, intolerant men. you've grit your teeth, and grinned and beared. you've never expected nor needed his approval. anyone's. except perhaps, for captain price's. but you will not be shaken by the likes of him.

self preservation be damned, as she can't will away the tilt of her lips upward. " -- and who did i murder, lieutenant?" she places hands against her hips, still with the disbelieving amusement upon her face. surprise she's even having to entertain such ridiculous notions clear, in how lip pushes outward and words are laced in a half laughter. oddities in the lack of serious tone making it apparent that she's absolutely at a loss.

"go ahead, tell me.. since you are apparently so well educated on the subject of my history with the russian forces." thumbs ease into her pockets as she leans back on her heels. "or, is it simply that i stood on the opposing side of this little battle field in your mind? shooting my bullets at the british, and the americans.."

she dares stand a little closer. like a pitbull sizing up a silverback. "Я не боюсь тебя. (i'm not afraid of you)."

yet beside her, the towering figure of her protector, knelt. sherry was terrified. the fear of being left alone, of abandonment after everything they had been through together. the fear of the virus consuming her entirely, and she knew that her condition was holding him back.

but when his comforting words reached her ears, a glimmer of hope flickered within her. summoning every ounce of strength she had left, she lifted her head to look up at him, tears glistening on her cheeks. her voice, frail and trembling, escaped her in a soft plea, " p-please... "

THERE'S A NARROWING OF PRICE'S BROWS that usher a slight, barely there cant of his head. tilting his chin just so, as he gives the ghost a slight smile. "wouldn't exactly call ya a dog." he speaks, stepping forth &. slapping a hand over shoulder fondly. grabbing it, with a slight shake. it's sturdy. instilled with a little more solidarity than his usual pat. "sure are loyal though, aren't ya?" he nods as he steps back again. crossing his arms over his chest, as his too-blue eyes study the man before him. hard to read, but not impossible. it's clear there's something else there . . . the words seemingly such that only scratch the surface, or those used to breach the subject of what one really wants to say.

price knows a man like ghost has natural leadership capabilities. a man who fits his rank perfectly, in price's personal opinion. meaning that he seems to require a guiding hand, whilst also having the discipline, good sense, &. tactical skill to take charge. to deliver orders in the field. able to make calls that price trusts, while simultaneously feeling confident in sending him out on assignment. unlike some, he has no qualms leading a man like ghost . . . &. he guarantees most captains wouldn't know quite what to do with him, anyway. but again, those are simply opinions based on observations.

"i don't regret it, if that's what you wanna hear. but i won't put words in your mouth, lieutenant." he nods. once, &. curtly.

the conversation is calm, which matches the setting. pink &. oranges streaking the sky as they stand amidst the emptying exterior of the familiar base. lot scattered with various unmanned military vehicles, with soft ambience of distance engines &. gravel under tires.

"don't think i ever asked ya' why y'said yes in the first place." the speech almost sounds idle. gruff &. low spoken, as he looks down after having dug in his pocket. he removes a cigar, which is promptly taken between teeth &. lit with a practiced flick igniting the flint. a river of smoke pluming from puffed cherry when he catches it efficiently. the hand raises once he has a mouthful of tobacco, with a clear gesture forth. "bu' i sure am glad y'did. wouldn't rather anyone else watch my six, that's for bloody sure."