#hadaad

"unless you're here to pay for a dance, i don't think i'm the girl you're looking for. mary isn't even my real name, you know that right?"

Sunlight barely creeps through the half closed blinds, just enough to outline the silhouetted shadows without banishing then entirely from where they lay in swathes across the sleeping men’s peaceful forms. Zaf wakes first - nose pressed into the pillow and dark eyes blinking themselves into focus. They’ve shifted sometime in the night, what had been big spoon and the little one has become a man on his stomach with his boyfriend atop him. Adam sprawls across his side, one arm slung over his back and mouth pressed against the side of Zaf’s neck, breath tickling the hair nearest the shell of his ear. “Adam.” It’s a muffled sound, groaned into the pillow as Zaf does his best to stretch, weight shifting as he lifts himself up slightly. “Adam.” There’s a bit more force this time, a bit less half asleep and a bit more amused frustration ..: and the younger man shifts once more, rolling until Adam is no longer atop him. The older man mumbles something in his sleep, half awake, and his arm around Zaf’s middle tightens as if asking what’s wrong. “Nothing. I just love you.”

"you're not from around here, are you? i can tell."

it's just a part of the job. emira had to remind herself of that on a daily basis at this point. it was one thing being the assistant to the man known as the biggest mob leader in new york city (and to the woman who actually did all the thinking) but adding professional witness to those duties had been a big thing for her to agree to.

she was lying.

not only that, she was lying in a country far from the one she was used to. new york police she'd worked out, saw some of the same faces on a semi-regular basis, knew exactly what answers they wanted to their questions. but england? london? mi5 was a whole new ball game that she didn't know how to play at all.

"emira baysal. but some people just call me erica. it's –– an inside joke, thing." she explained, fingers fiddling in her lap. "what exactly did you need from me? i told the other guy everything i'd seen, i thought this was all over with. i'd like to actually enjoy my vacation." what vacation? the whole story was a rouse, she just had to try and sell it.

"Everything i found out, i wanna forget."

Darkness had closed in around them over an hour before, the thick blanket of fog that covered the landscape creating an insulated pocket glowing with faint moonlight, a densely shrouded bower which lent itself toward a private, oddly intimate setting...while also being vaguely surreal and unsettling. Adam's gaze flickers about them as if able to pierce the veil that separates the two men from the rest of the world, his expression one of discontent as he pours words into the receiver of his phone tersely, body language speaking of his frustration and concern.

"I know, Harry. But we can't see a thing." His tone rises slightly, fingers of his free hand coming up to rub at his brow while he paces in the narrow space. "Surveillance generally requires being able to view the target. How can we know where he is if we can't bloody see him?"

Disconnecting the call with the press of a button, Zaf's words cut through the silence and draw his attention to where the younger man has been settled against the trunk of a towering oak tree, apparently doing additional research, hoping to find another way to access the information they seek before their mark disappears back into the darkness like the cockroach he is. Adam's brow quirks at the announcement and he leans closer to his partner, eyes widening as he scans the document detailing Gitano's many, many crimes.