Disclaimer: Unfortunately for me, I do not own the amazing agent Sheldon Jeffrey Sands. Neither do I own the setting or anything else that you recognise from the movie. I do, however, own my wonderful OC, whose name will remain a mystery for the moment.

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Black trainers pounded softly on the dusty tarmac. The door of the café swung open with a soft jingling sound and he slipped inside, sliding into a seat in the corner with only a slight hand gesture to alert the attention of a nearby waiter.

"Puerco pibil and tequila with lime."

"Si, senõr."

Raising a cigarette to his lips, he pulled a lighter out of his jean pocket and lit it with a flick of his wrist. Drawing a deep breath, he then exhaled a series of small smoke rings into the stuffy air, watching them float upwards before fading into nothingness. The fingers of his right hand slipped down his neck, undoing the second and third buttons on his black silk shirt, his nails catching on the silver chain that hung there.

"Your tequila, senõr."

The drink was placed before him and Sands acknowledged the waiter with a simple nod, no need for thanks, he was intending on paying him after all. Stubbing out the cigarette, he took a sip of the strong liquid enjoying the way it burnt his throat slightly as he swallowed. He scanned the room, analysing a dozen people in a single second, weighing up any possible threats and searching for a hint of anything unusual. Nothing extraordinary. He hated these sorts of people, Sands was certain he could recite the entire life-history of any one of them with a single glance. A head suddenly turned and his gaze was drawn to a young woman who was now facing in his direction, his eyes locking with hers. Chocolate brown met forest green for a split-second before a slight blush spread across her pale cheeks and she blinked, averting her eyes downwards.

Sands barely noticed the waiter place his order on the table; his gaze was still fixed on the woman, she had turned away again and he noticed she was wearing a dark green, spaghetti-strapped summer dress. Her raven black hair fell over her shoulders in loose ringlets. He watched as she sipped the last of her drink before placing the glass back on the table. Sands pulled out one of his many credit cards, flicking the plastic to imply that he was ready to pay. The waiter approached and handed Sands the bill and a pen, giving him a strange look as he eyed the untouched meal on the table. Sands quickly signed the bill, allowing the waiter to check the signature before slipping the card back in his pocket, his eyes still on the woman who was now getting to her feet. He mirrored her actions and they reached the door at the same time. Sands stepped aside to let her pass and she met his eyes again, a small smile drifting across her face. Sands wanted to smile back, at least he thought he did, but he wasn't sure that he remembered how. It had been so long since he had smiled properly. Her beautiful eyes seemed to scan his face quickly before she nodded in thanks, slipped through the door and was gone. Sands stood stock-still for a moment before he too left the café, his eyes examining the dusty street for any sign of the mysterious woman. She was no where in sight. Sands sighed and pulled his shades down over his eyes, cursing softly.