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."

Comments

[goldrighthand]

He's tired, but that's no excuse. He's been tired before; even in Talon, especially in Talon, all that means is you need to put forth more effort in to being aware of your surroundings. And in the end?

While he pays for it by not realizing something is dropping on him until he feels the weight, he does, to his credit, try and make up for it.

Akande's first instinct is to whirl and slam himself against the wall. Which he does, but perhaps not as forcefully as he could have. Instead, a few facts process through his mind in the space of a second; the first being that he knows the voice. Widowmaker. And her skill as an assassin is unmatched, but while she would be a perfect choice to send after him...if she wanted to kill him, a part of him notes, she wouldn't have used these methods.

This, of course, is aside from what her words were.

It all processes in the space of one breath and the next. And the next? He's trying to grab on to her wrists and throw her off him, growling in answer to her 'proposal'.

Game on.