For Goldrighthand

[snipemare]

It wasn't, exactly, a whim that had her lurking about Akande's apartment. It was a desire. A feeling, crawling under her skin. An itch she finds herself wanting to scratch. A desire she hasn't had for years, ever since Gerard...

She keeps herself in the dark. Waits for an opportunity. It's not like Akande will expect her here, in the dark, waiting in his quarters. She fingers the garotte between her hands. Watches the door like a hawk rather than a spider.

The door opens, and she slinks into position. Just high enough to get the jump on him, leaping onto his back and pulling the wire taut against his neck, her legs wrapping tight around his waist. The fight in Monaco has her blood pumping, the kills in Venice has her aching for this. Her lips brush against his ear, and she whispers to him in accented English.

"The safe word is Overwatch."