Code-name: "THE BOSS"
Johnny found The Boss in a secluded corner of the loung, a tablet in hand- and that damed helmet still on. Johnny subtly straightened the collar of his shirt, brushed a hand over his hair, and with hands in trouser pockets he walked into the little corner space as casually as he could. The Boss’ fingers went rigid over the glowing screen. With a disinterested air, he took a seat on the opposite sofa, keeping a distance between them- he hadn’t scared them off yet, and he was going through all the motions one would when approaching a wild animal. Don’t look them in the eye, don’t face them full frontal- don’t stick your fingers in their face. Johnny could feel their eyes on him, wary and cutting, but Johnny had stared down the worst of the worst of society, with only a table and a pair of cuffs between them. He still felt his pits sweat a little under their direct attention.
Casually, he took out his knife and inspected it for non-existant dirt, running the point under his clipped nails. Cool as a cucumber. He risked a glance up at them. Their visor was no longer directed at his face, but was tilted down, at his hands. Their whole body had softened, as if the sight was calming. Johnny would remember that. He took the chance while they were distracted.
“So. Heard you’re one of the higher up agents. One of the first, and best.”
Immediately their body language radiated “get away from me”, retreating to the arm of the sofa. But just as quickly it relaxed, purposefully, visor turning back to the tablet. He didn’t know what to feel about someone so obviously trying to cut him out.
He tossed his knife up, catching it over and over as he kept the small talk small.
“Persephone vouches for ya. And you ain’t half bad on the field.”
A questioning pause.
“It’s not hard work.” They eventually replied.
He peered ar her curiously.
“What, being an agent? Saving the world?”
Their voice was filled with a chilling aloofness.
Their answer shouldn’t resonate so much with cop like him- but it did. Damn him, but it did. He focused his attention on his knife.
“What d'you do before M.A.Y.H.E.M?”
“None of your business.”
“How long have you been with them?”
“What’s your body count like?”
“Lost count.” They said, a wicked lick to their tone that had him pulling at his collar.
“Favourite colour?” Johnny asked lightly, trying to cheer the mood up.
Johnny didn’t expect that question to be the one to make them hesitate. He stared at them when the silence dragged on for a moment, and opened his mouth to ask them again, if they didn’t hear them. Their answer was soft, and filled with meaning he didn’t understand but made his heart strangely full.
“Purple. I like purple.”
His brows raised slightly in surprise, schooling most of his reaction. Keep it casual.
“Huh. Funny. Me too.”
That made The Boss heave a deep sigh, as if expelling something off their chest, and they slouched on their sofa, focussing on their tablet.
“I’m doing research on a target so either pipe down and amuse yourself or go away.” Their guard was up again, and the wild animal had returned after too much prodding.
Gat witheld a sigh, and made a casual shrug he did not feel, then sat back and pulled out his phone. It may not have been much, but info was info, and this was a small victory. If the result was doing fuck-all for an hour till they ran off to do God knows what, then he could put up with that.
He wondered if he would look good in a purple shirt.
( @celestialgoth holla from the other side of the world!)