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rainbowfic2014-08-15 04:10 pm
bookblather) wrote in rainbowfic2014-08-15 04:10 pm
Stars and Stripes 8, Admin Yellow 11, Sphene 7: Piece of Cake
Author: Kat
Title: Piece of Cake
Story: In the Heart and Shine Like It Does
Colors: Stars and stripes 8 (“I teach Sunday school, motherfucker.”), admin yellow 11 (Let's try to not shoot any Girl Scouts on the first day, OK?), sphene 7 (Polished)
Supplies and Materials: Mosaic, oils (I've never met anyone like you), stain ("The better part of valour is discretion." - Falstaff, Henry IV, Shakespeare)
Word Count: 513
Rating: PG
Summary: The woman was not what Miranda was expecting.
Warnings: assassins, brief mention of weight issues.
Notes: Misread a PBN again. Last stars and stripes at long goddamn last.
The woman with the white rose in her lapel was not what Miranda had expected.
To begin with, she was middle-aged. Impeccably turned out, just as Miranda herself was, but undeniably middle-aged, with crow's feet at the corners of her eyes, and laugh lines developing around her mouth. Her red hair was greying at the temples, with no sign that she'd tried to dye it away. Her body had settled into a comfortable middle-aged spread, in a way that neither Miranda nor her mother would ever have allowed. It was far too dangerous in this profession.
Maybe she wasn't the right person. A white rose in one's lapel was one of the more cliché ways to meet someone; surely someone else could have thought of it. It would be a coincidence, but...
Better to check, she decided, and went up to the woman on the park bench. "Excuse me, are you Sam's friend?"
The woman looked up, her crow's feet crinkling as she smiled. "No, Sam is my brother. Please, sit down."
"You're my contact?" Miranda exclaimed. She nearly bit her tongue off for that--Christ, she was a secret agent, she had to have some kind of discretion--but it was too late to take it back.
"So it would seem." The woman's eyes sharpened just a bit. "Are you going to sit?"
Speechless, Miranda sat.
"There, that's better." The woman patted her hand. "You can call me Gail."
"Gail," Miranda repeated, and on impulse decided to give her... well, not her real name, she knew better than that, but the closest thing she ever used in the field. "I'm Andrea."
"A pleasure to meet you," Gail said. She shook Miranda's hand, and her smile warmed her eyes. If she wasn't sincere, she was a hell of an actress. Miranda's respect for her ticked up a notch. "Now, I think you have something for me?"
"I do," Miranda said, and handed over the book she'd carried under one arm. She'd been up all night making the carefully careless markings that littered its pages, coded colors of highlighter and strategic doodles. "I hope you enjoy it as much as I did."
Gail opened the book and flipped through it, pausing at one or two pages to peruse a line. There was no pattern to it that Miranda could see, but then again, there wouldn't be. "Do you know," Gail said, "I think I will. Thank you, dear."
Miranda started to get up, then hesitated, sank back down on the bench and said, "Are you sure you can handle it? No offense is meant, I only..." She stopped talking, because Gail was laughing hard enough to draw a considerable amount of attention.
"Oh, you sweet summer child," Gail said, once she'd calmed enough to speak. "I used to be a kindergarten teacher. The secret service has been a cakewalk, after that."
"Ah," Miranda murmured, gaining a whole new respect for Charlotte.
"Don't you worry," Gail told her maternally, and patted her hand. "I'll take care of everything."
Miranda had no doubt that she would.
Title: Piece of Cake
Story: In the Heart and Shine Like It Does
Colors: Stars and stripes 8 (“I teach Sunday school, motherfucker.”), admin yellow 11 (Let's try to not shoot any Girl Scouts on the first day, OK?), sphene 7 (Polished)
Supplies and Materials: Mosaic, oils (I've never met anyone like you), stain ("The better part of valour is discretion." - Falstaff, Henry IV, Shakespeare)
Word Count: 513
Rating: PG
Summary: The woman was not what Miranda was expecting.
Warnings: assassins, brief mention of weight issues.
Notes: Misread a PBN again. Last stars and stripes at long goddamn last.
The woman with the white rose in her lapel was not what Miranda had expected.
To begin with, she was middle-aged. Impeccably turned out, just as Miranda herself was, but undeniably middle-aged, with crow's feet at the corners of her eyes, and laugh lines developing around her mouth. Her red hair was greying at the temples, with no sign that she'd tried to dye it away. Her body had settled into a comfortable middle-aged spread, in a way that neither Miranda nor her mother would ever have allowed. It was far too dangerous in this profession.
Maybe she wasn't the right person. A white rose in one's lapel was one of the more cliché ways to meet someone; surely someone else could have thought of it. It would be a coincidence, but...
Better to check, she decided, and went up to the woman on the park bench. "Excuse me, are you Sam's friend?"
The woman looked up, her crow's feet crinkling as she smiled. "No, Sam is my brother. Please, sit down."
"You're my contact?" Miranda exclaimed. She nearly bit her tongue off for that--Christ, she was a secret agent, she had to have some kind of discretion--but it was too late to take it back.
"So it would seem." The woman's eyes sharpened just a bit. "Are you going to sit?"
Speechless, Miranda sat.
"There, that's better." The woman patted her hand. "You can call me Gail."
"Gail," Miranda repeated, and on impulse decided to give her... well, not her real name, she knew better than that, but the closest thing she ever used in the field. "I'm Andrea."
"A pleasure to meet you," Gail said. She shook Miranda's hand, and her smile warmed her eyes. If she wasn't sincere, she was a hell of an actress. Miranda's respect for her ticked up a notch. "Now, I think you have something for me?"
"I do," Miranda said, and handed over the book she'd carried under one arm. She'd been up all night making the carefully careless markings that littered its pages, coded colors of highlighter and strategic doodles. "I hope you enjoy it as much as I did."
Gail opened the book and flipped through it, pausing at one or two pages to peruse a line. There was no pattern to it that Miranda could see, but then again, there wouldn't be. "Do you know," Gail said, "I think I will. Thank you, dear."
Miranda started to get up, then hesitated, sank back down on the bench and said, "Are you sure you can handle it? No offense is meant, I only..." She stopped talking, because Gail was laughing hard enough to draw a considerable amount of attention.
"Oh, you sweet summer child," Gail said, once she'd calmed enough to speak. "I used to be a kindergarten teacher. The secret service has been a cakewalk, after that."
"Ah," Miranda murmured, gaining a whole new respect for Charlotte.
"Don't you worry," Gail told her maternally, and patted her hand. "I'll take care of everything."
Miranda had no doubt that she would.
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I need to eeee again.
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEee
Sorry!
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(also, can I ask why not? I'm only curious!)
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...unless someone hurt someone she loved.
I may be mistaken.
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Thank you!