#dontcxckitup

Send “You look like you…”, complete the sentence, and see how my muse reacts to being told that! - @dontcxckitup

Maria softened almost immediately on seeing him lingering in the archive doorway, he face instantly broke into a smile and she sighed, letting out a breath.

Liv cast a glance towards Gareth, noticing the buttons undone on his shirt. She bit her lower lip but looked away with a smirk.

She stretched.

“You have a lot to do. How come you didn’t shower here before dressing?”

She asked, then pursed her lips.

“Well, if I wore jeans and a t-shirt, I would look to casual, if I wore a blazer and skirt, I don’t want to be mistaken for administration, so, my uniform is both an identification, and an instruction- take me seriously.”

"I want to talk to big boss,"

Standing in the kitchen she looked out onto the window to the street below. Since everything and they both had been sent home, they didn't have to hide. They could be together like any other couple and nobody would care, they had no say. "Gareth?" she called as she saw someone standing outside, a familiar type of black car was parked across the street. Lights on.

"There's someone outside," she put the dishes down as the man now stood directly outside the house. The Ru.ssians were either arrested, dead or fled and it didn't seem like they would be seeking revenge here and now. No this was one of their men.

Ah, the MI6. Chris had heard tales and stories about the mysterious organization since he was a little boy, but little did he expect to actually walk the halls of its buildings. He'd almost say it was a dream come true, if he hadn't been preparing for a career like this since he had memory.

With his upbringing, the hierarchy and military regimen was familiar to Chris. As his boots echoed through the silent corridors, an air of pride and accomplishment filled his lungs. This is exactly where he was supposed to be, and he was more than determined to make a name for himself.

And this meeting was, without a doubt, one of the most important moments of his life. So he walked into the office after getting clearance and stood, firm and straight, in front of Gareth's desk.

The file contained of about seventy pages, and that was all he knew. On top of the brown carton was a big stamp reading "Confidential", and another one, "Eyes only". Inside, the first page was greeting the reader with a formal photo of a soldier, his full name and rank, and a few more dates. After that, the painful history of this man, Wendy's late brother, would start.

The moment she saw Gareth a smile that could brighten all of London appeared…. It always did when Wendy laid eyes on Gareth but as quickly as it came, she noticed the firm expression and apologetic eyes. Her expression softening worried about whatever had happened that day but then her eyes came the brown file. Bright red words greeting her. She didn’t have to open the folder to know what was inside, and she stood their frozen starring at the file now between her and Gareth on the table.

Her eyes filling with tears as she took a breath, deep…. Not realizing she had been holding it. The oxygen flowing back into her lungs caused her to look back up at G. In awe of the gift he had just given her, terrified of the truth it contained. She couldn’t move, speak, feel…. She felt frozen in that moment in time. Years of seeking answers now not only within reach but right there for the taking and she couldn’t move. Eyes cast down back at mocking envelope.

Relax and don't worry? Easier said than done. He knew what he had seen, and yet he felt as though his mind had gone insane. He had gone insane. "I'm not so certain about that..." Gareth muttered, putting his hands on his hips. "If that...client of yours...sees it more often? Not...in private. Not at home, not at work, but...outside? On the streets...in shops..." He knew he was vague, and he was sure Kit already knew he wasn't talking about some friend, but himself. But he felt awkward talking to her about it. Talking to anyone about it.

*************

There were only two courses of action she knew would work in such situations - pussy-foot around for a few minutes until she lost all patience and asked him outright what was going on, or just confront the truth right now. Kit had learned that in this life, one could not pussy-foot. In fact, pussy-footing only wasted precious time.

So, sliding another slice of pizza onto his plate then refilling his glass with Malbec, she indicated towards the chair opposite hers. Kit needed Gareth to be relaxed, as much as he could.

The boys when they realise @dontcxckitup is online

Jim isn’t happy

Richard: 😌