09-12-2013, 11:10 PM
It wasn't often that Hood smiled. Or more accurately, that the smile wasn't a dangerous or threatening one. Or sarcastic. Okay, so it was rare that Hood had something that could pass as a pleased smile. When she found him at the bar, he had a glass of scotch in hand but had yet to sample it. At a hundred chickadees a glass he wasn't sure if it would live up to his expectations. A hundred dollars of his own funds, truth be told; Pervaya liniya Security foot the bill to get him clothed and in the door, but hadn't covered beverages. The quality of the company made up for the price of the drink though.
Now that she wasn't obscured by the sycophants and ritzy twits she had been leading around the room, he allowed himself a moment to enjoy the view. She'd been quite the looker ten years ago. Ten years of the high life had done wonders. There was even a hint of honest emotion in her eyes, that maybe she really was glad to see him alive and kicking. How many men could claim that of her?
"Reports of my death have been gravely exaggerated. And if I had a dollar every time someone thought I was dead, I could afford a second glass of scotch."
He grinned down at her, raising the glass of scotch and taking a sip finally. He savored it for a long moment and swallowed before eyeing the contents of his cup for a long moment, followed by a vague harrumph. It was good, but certainly not worth so much.
"Of course, as far as your friend in the other room, and his friends abroad, is concerned, I'm either in a shallow grave or a prison so deep it's never seen the light of day."
Another amused grin; he was pretty sure she knew him well enough to know he wouldn't have switched sides.
He didn't go so far as to touch her or be too familiar of course; she had a very carefully maintained reputation to maintain and just her coming to talk to him had probably made him a dozen very well-off enemies around the room. Hopefully most would let the implied insult pass without action, and hopefully others would be smart enough to decide against anything rash if they found out who he worked for. Perhaps that he had been seen in Mr Talanov's company would keep any of them from getting uppity.
"You though."
He waggled a finger at her with a pleased grin, "You have done quite well lass. Pass a dozen billboards, you're sure to be on five of them it seems."
He plucked a crisp Pervaya liniya Security business card from the pocket of his suit; it was considered uncouth in most circles to actually use a suit's pockets to hold things, but Hood was a soldier first. Pockets were there for function, not form. And their function was, indeed, to hold things. Hence the cards he kept stored there. He didn't know if she would recognize the company, but she was their kind of clientele. Rich and important.
Now that she wasn't obscured by the sycophants and ritzy twits she had been leading around the room, he allowed himself a moment to enjoy the view. She'd been quite the looker ten years ago. Ten years of the high life had done wonders. There was even a hint of honest emotion in her eyes, that maybe she really was glad to see him alive and kicking. How many men could claim that of her?
"Reports of my death have been gravely exaggerated. And if I had a dollar every time someone thought I was dead, I could afford a second glass of scotch."
He grinned down at her, raising the glass of scotch and taking a sip finally. He savored it for a long moment and swallowed before eyeing the contents of his cup for a long moment, followed by a vague harrumph. It was good, but certainly not worth so much.
"Of course, as far as your friend in the other room, and his friends abroad, is concerned, I'm either in a shallow grave or a prison so deep it's never seen the light of day."
Another amused grin; he was pretty sure she knew him well enough to know he wouldn't have switched sides.
He didn't go so far as to touch her or be too familiar of course; she had a very carefully maintained reputation to maintain and just her coming to talk to him had probably made him a dozen very well-off enemies around the room. Hopefully most would let the implied insult pass without action, and hopefully others would be smart enough to decide against anything rash if they found out who he worked for. Perhaps that he had been seen in Mr Talanov's company would keep any of them from getting uppity.
"You though."
He waggled a finger at her with a pleased grin, "You have done quite well lass. Pass a dozen billboards, you're sure to be on five of them it seems."
He plucked a crisp Pervaya liniya Security business card from the pocket of his suit; it was considered uncouth in most circles to actually use a suit's pockets to hold things, but Hood was a soldier first. Pockets were there for function, not form. And their function was, indeed, to hold things. Hence the cards he kept stored there. He didn't know if she would recognize the company, but she was their kind of clientele. Rich and important.