Red was surprised, even a little annoyed, when instead of Lizzy Donald entered the hotel suite. The annoyance was directed rather against Lizzy than against Ressler, who looked young and unfamiliar with the casual jeans and the modern grey jacket. At least, Lizzy had said, SHE wanted to meet him. Still, she constantly surprised Red with unpredictable actions, and he didn't like it.
"Donald!" He exclaimed, accepting the given situation quickly. "What the hell are YOU doing here?"
"I made Liz lie to you," Don admitted, still standing by the door, feeling uncomfortable. "I wanted to make sure you would meet me. Now - and alone." He looked at Dembe who stood next to him.
Red nodded to Dembe who left as a result the lounge of the hotel suite and closed the door behind him.
"If you had told me the reason, I would have met you." Red smiled at Donald, sensing the fear and the hesitation of the younger man. "But now you are here anyway. What can I do for you?" His relationship to Ressler had changed since that fateful day in the box. He had had a look into the soul of the younger man, who sacrificed himself so heroically to something that maybe wasn't even worth it, and he felt some kind of sympathy. In any case, he didn't distrust Donald, although he was alerted.
"That's... not so easy." Suddenly Don felt discouraged and undetermined. When he had asked Liz to arrange the meeting he had been quite sure about, but now he suddenly didn't know anymore whether he really wanted to hear the truth.
"Has anything happened?" Red asked and looked at Donald carefully. "You okay? You are so pale as if you had seen a ghost. Please, do sit down." He gestured to the place beside him on the sofa.
When Don crossed the luxurious room and sat down on the offered place, he felt as if he was wrapped in cotton or in a cocoon. Everything seemed to be so unreal that he wasn't sure whether it wasn't just a dream. A nightmare. Soon he would wake up and everything would be all right.
But it didn't happen. He didn't wake up. Instead he still sat on the sofa, next to Reddington. "I... I saw the pocket watch," he said after a while.
Red looked at him in surprise, wasn't sure about what the younger man spoke of. Then, however, it began to dawn on him, and his eyes darkened.
"On that day... when I accompanied Liz," Don reminded him. "I thought, it would be Kirchhoff's watch and that you would have kept it as a souvenir but..."
Red swallowed his annoyance about the unwelcome curiosity. For so many years he had tried to find out something, anything about HIS pocket watch, and Donald, of all people in the world, should know something about it? "Do you know the woman in the picture?"
"Yeah..." Don withstood Red's glare. "But first, I need to know where YOU know her from."
Red hated it to reveal information when he wasn't sure where they could lead to. He hated it not being in control of a situation. His thoughts came tumbling, why or where Donald could know the woman from. However, there were too many variations. "Who is she?"
"The answer isn't as simple as the question," Don replied. "You first. Please."
Red looked in Donald's clear, blue eyes which looked at him almost beseechingly and desperately. For any reason he felt touched, and if...