Disclaimer: I do not own Leverage, nor am I associated with Dean Devlin, Timothy Hutton or Gina Bellman.
A/N: Smoking isn't cool, kids, but Nate's an addict and Sophie's got that whole Grace Kelly, Myrna Loy vibe going so… :-P

A Vintage Match

Dark, curly hair shaded her face, flawless but for the put-out expression on it. But his eyes had to luxuriously travel from Prada heels up long legs to a tantalizingly fitted skirt and an equally teasing blouse before finally reaching that face. There, a frown pouted on her lips and the cigarette that dangled dangerously from her fingers only added to her magnetism.

Nate creased the brim of his hat in one hand as he made his way across the exotically bustling Damascene train station. Pulling his own pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket, he removed one, tapping it against the box. "Got a match?" he asked, coolly placing it between his lips.

She raised an eyebrow, glancing at him almost carelessly. "Who carries matches these days?" she replied, even as she took a book labeled 'Cham Palace' from her purse. Popping one out, she struck it on the wall behind his head before holding it up to him, flame licking between them. He cupped a hand behind it, watching her more than the task at hand. She shook the match out, smirking.

He removed the cigarette from between his lips, casually blowing smoke into the breeze. Extending a hand, he introduced himself, "Nate Ford."

She gazed at his hand, raising an eyebrow before looking away. "Anna Swanson." Slipping the cigarette between her lips, she proceeded to wholly ignore him.

Minutes passed in relative silence until the train to Dubai pulled into the station. Nate pushed himself off the wall, dropping his cigarette to the ground and crushing it beneath the toe of his boot. "That's me," he announced softly, almost under his breath. Turning away without an acknowledgement from either of them, he started to walk off but slowed, spinning on his heel to face her so he was walking backward. Placing his hat on his head, he called, "It was a pleasure to finally meet you, Miss Devereaux!"

Sophie paused in irritably lighting a second cigarette, glancing up at him, intrigued. Smirking at his use of the name she hadn't given him, she watched him disappear into the crowd and then off into his clichéd but romantically characteristic sunset on the speeding train.