#excitus

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☛        ⊰  ℳ. ⊱ 

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                             ❝   No more of this...... Richard Brook nonsensssse......

          Sévérine looked like Hell. It was the only fitting word to describe her paled complexion and the light pink that trailed beneath her lids. There was evidence of pain and tears, dried blood in her clothing. Firmly pressing her lips together, she lifted her hand to knock against the door of her brother's home, rain starting to fall.

Valentin was a nice name, matching the Salvatore Ferragamos that crunched along the catacomb grounds of Aleppo. The souk was cramped, fun in Westwoods forgotten as the Criminal tided against the crowds in his temporary cover of a Russian businessman. Better than Turkey, he’s well reassured. The people stank from dietary habits of kebab lamb. His own hygiene was impeccable, though he’s never finely shaven with bristles roaming his chin and jaw.

A light disturbance around his right pocket has his eyes snapping down to his side. It’s barely there, but he’s felt it. How easily he’s caught a pickpocket, a street child who’d withdrawn her empty hand quicker than lightning. She would have felt the cool edge of metal instead of the warm leather of a wallet; the callous barrel of a semi-automatic. Turkish. Sour to the local tongue. He flashes her a cold smile and she melts away into the crowd.

It is then he purrs into his earpiece, the little black bluetooth the shape of giant, shiny bug, offering what was obvious and necessary. Soldiers needed direction. Support. Someone to look up to. And sometimes, even his most experienced man faltered, grating his nerves and wearing his patience thin.

Sebastian must be at his lowest, disrupting his business trip with a personal phone call. Like an expert, his anger diffuses. Weapon dealers; nuclear experts can wait while he makes an effort to soothe his delirious soldier.

             ”Come to the Middle East.”