#agentinred

the sounds of nightmares from here.

A slow exhale releases from Ben though the height of his shoulders do not lower. As he gazes out of across of his window from his London office, Ben offers a small smile that doesn't quite reach all the way to his eyes. For all of her teasing, and for all of her seduction, Carmen had slid into his world in such a way that was unforgettable.

And yet, unlike the many that had filtered in and out of his life like a rotating door, she had stayed. Sometimes simply just out of sight, but never far. It gave a man like Ben Callahan the idea of control -- that control he so prides himself on in every aspect of his life... but it's not really there, is it?

"You coming in and out---... it catches me off guard."

With all of her research, with all of her...check-ins, she had managed to pin him down and put him under a scrutiny that made him uncomfortable. Vulnerable was a persona and a uniform he had not worn since he was eight years old and shaking in the presence of a father who mocked him, mocked his stutter, and was beaten into him that silence and submission kept one safe. To shrink yourself away. That love.... to love was transactional, performative, and the moment your usefulness went away, then so did the love.

"I can't ever --..." He pauses, withholding. It used to work for him. Their little midnight tête-à-têtes, the secrecy, the casual intimacy. But casual intimacy only worked when it was fleeting. It only worked when he was able to control when it started and when it began. That's why all of it before had failed. A self-destruction of his own making. He preferred it that way.

But he reigns it all in, because he knows he's supposed to exude strength. The...masculinity, the steadiness.

|    |    |    ‣   @agentinred  ⤷     ONE  LINER. 

❝   this  is  the  third  time  i'm  seeing  you  today  —  following  me  now?   ❞

The truth was, Eve had changed. A year ago—no, longer—her life had been so meticulously ordered. She’d known exactly where she stood, what her mornings would bring, what she’d eat for dinner, and which polite conversations she’d have to endure. It had all been so perfectly, maddeningly structured.

She didn’t even realize how detached she’d been from it all, going through the motions like a well-rehearsed actress in a dull play. She’d smiled, crossed the road when the light changed, and nodded at the right moments during dinner parties. And yet, somewhere along the way, that version of her—the precise, predictable Eve—had become a stranger. An empty shell she’d long since discarded. Eve tilted her head, studying Carmen. “So, what’s your angle here? You’re suggesting we work together? Why? What’s in it for you? Because let’s not kid ourselves—you’re not doing this out of the kindness of your heart. You want something, and if I’m going to agree to any of this, I need to know the whole picture. No games. No half-truths. We lay it all out.”

Her voice was firm but low, just enough edge to make the words stick. There had been moments—fleeting, maddening moments—when she could’ve walked away. Slipped back into her old life, and convinced herself this was just a detour, some absurd midlife crisis. But she hadn’t, and she wouldn’t. It was too late for that.

She’d stepped too far into the unknown, and now, the thought of returning to the person she used to be felt as impossible as it was unappealing.No, the map was gone. The structure she’d clung to for so long? Shattered. It terrified her—and thrilled her in equal measure. She was alive, more than she’d been in years, and though she had no idea what came next, she wasn’t sure she wanted to. Eve leaned back, exhaling sharply. “I think I’ll need another drink. You?”

@agentinred​ asked: ‘ i’ve got to take a chance and keep on moving. ’

By the time the second piece that had been conceived in his studio is reported stolen, the artist begins to expect a visitor. He figures, of course, that someone with such an understanding of art and, more to the point, crime would be remiss to let him get away with his part of the ordeal when he had inadvertently impeded their efforts. 

Which is all to say that when he enters his hotel room at the Parisian Ritz that evening, he is not the least surprise to find that he was not alone. Granted, the figure with a hat and a long coat isn't quite what he expects  ––  she seems like a character out of a novel  ––  but he doesn't let it sway him. No, the artist remains a cordial host regardless. 

❛  I thought you'd show up.  ❜  He confesses, loosening the tie around his neck while making his way to the minibar.  ❛  But I did imagine you all in black rather than red.  ❜  He opens an aged bottle of whiskey and pours it into two tumblers; takes one for himself and leaves the other at the edge of the surface. Turning to face her, he leans against the bar.   

❛  It seems like we're at an impasse, doesn't it? And a very interesting one, I'd say.  ❜