Darling, I'm killed.
The bell over the door gave a ring, indicating a new soul had entered the bar. Darlene could hardly blame them; the weather outside was awful. Without bothering to turn around, she returned to her cigarette.
The clunking of shoes, undoubtedly from the newcomer, grew louder. Before she knew it, a man had plopped himself down on the barstool next to her.
Oh, what a thrill …
He was a mess to say the least. The man's once assuredly fine-looking tuxedo was soaking wet, water still dripping from his jacket, making a growing puddle on the hardwood floor. But as ruined as his outfit might have been, even from just a side-view Darlene could tell the man himself was even worse for wear. His face (which even in his disheveled state had a very attractively-roguish look…) stared straight ahead with a blank expression. His eyes, gazing into space, were characterized by an unnerving deadness and underlined by disturbing dark circles.
Vacillations got allure…
Darlene placed her cigarette in the ashtray in front of her.
How you tease, how you leave me to burn…
Lines on his face, despite looking as if they'd come from a lifetime of smiling, now only highlighted the weight this man seemed to carry on him, a weight not uncommon of men of seventy or eighty years old, but very rare on this man who couldn't have been older than thirty.
It's so deadly, my dear…
Just as she was about to speak, the man quite suddenly turned in the direction opposite of her and addressed the bartender.
"Vodka martini. Shaken, not stirred."
His request complete, the man turned his head straightforward once again to resume staring at the wall. His voice carried an air of professionalism and command, yet had a level of detachment that came across to Darlene as... unnatural. That may have discouraged most women from taking further interest in the man, despite his handsome exterior. But (the few drinks she had notwithstanding) Darlene was not like most women.
The power of having you near…
"Put in on my tab, Marty," she said to the bartender, in an uncertain yet firm voice.
The man slowly turned to look at her for the first time. Christ, somehow he looked better yet even more exhausted at the same time.
Their eyes locked. His remained expressionless, as if challenging her. She did her best to do the same.
Finally, after what seemed like ages, a smile slowly crept across his face.
Until that day…
"Thank you."
Until the world falls away…
His voice was much softer now.
Until you say there'll be no more goodbyes…
Despite herself, she could feel her cheeks blushing. Determined, she refused to shrink down. "Seems like you'd have quite a night."
The man's smile disappeared. He slouched back down in his seat, a defeated expression on his face. "You've no idea."
Marty the bartender placed the man's martini in front of him. The man glanced up. "Thanks," he said, in his original tone. Marty nodded and walked away without another word.
Feeling guilty, Darlene proceeded, "Sorry. I didn't mean to…"
"Strike a nerve?" he concluded, giving her a glance before taking a sip of his drink. "It's quite alright. You'll have to excuse me, I'm not usually like this." He took a bigger swig.
"Work troubles?" Darlene suggested.
Darling, you've won.
He gave an unexpected laugh. It was harsh, but civilized.
It's no fun.
"You could say that," he retorted, his third and final sip draining his glass. He motioned to the bartender for another.
"Well, maybe I could help?" Darlene continued. She had no idea why she was doing this. She never acted this way around men. But there was something different about this man. Something special.
He crossed his arms and shook his head. "I doubt that very much."
Darlene began to grow frustrated, though whether it was towards the man or herself was a tougher question. Impulsively, she blurted out, "What could be so bad to make someone act like this?"
But you bet your life every night…
The man considered this for a moment. Marty brought him a second drink. To Darlene's shock, he downed the entire thing in one gulp before giving her a long hard look.
While you're chasing the morning light…
"I've been doing the same job for most of my life. My job has been my life. I've had to go places, meet people, do things I don't think I could even explain to you if I was allowed to. I used to think it was great fun. I used to love that my job was my life, because it always felt like I was living, not working. But work like mine wears on a man. Now, I wake up every day just wanting to do my job and go back to sleep. I don't live anymore. All I do is work. Work and sleep. And darling, I'm tired. So, so tired."
You're not the only spy out there…
She leaned over and kissed him. When they parted she found him staring at her incredulously. It was a look she imagined he didn't display often. It was his turn to open his mouth only to be interrupted as Marty suddenly appeared.
"Telephone for you, sir."
The man accepted the phone from Marty and placed it to his ear. His face had transformed to pure business. After a series of "Yes, sir"s and "No, sir"s he gave the phone back to Marty. To Darlene's alarm, he stood and turned to face her. He had a sad smile on his face.
Until that day…
"Duty calls."
Until the world falls away…
Sounding more desperate than she had imagined, Darlene clamored "Will I ever see you again?"
Until you say there'll be no more goodbyes…
He shook his head. "Most likely not. But I'd like to thank you very much, Ms…?"
"Price," She finished for him, "Darlene Price."
I see it in your eyes…
He nodded this time. "Thank you, Ms. Price." He turned to leave. But before he could Darlene followed up, "What's your name?"
The man froze. He turned back toward her, his smile intact, with a twinkle in his eye that looked like it'd belonged there the entire time.
"Bond."
Tomorrow never dies.
"James Bond."