Central American gun runners and the Betsy Ross Estates. Never a dull moment in the espionage game. If I didn't know better, I'd say Francine was trying to make me jealous with her knowledge of the intimate details of Congressman Holcom's life. Which is a ridiculous thought, since I'm the one who broke things off with her, and she'd be back in my bed in a second if I snapped my fingers.
Lee followed Billy's amused glance to the security camera for the Georgetown foyer.
Oh dear lord, that's Amanda King. Thank god Francine didn't see her. She'd never let me live it down. I'll just have to get rid of her. The Agency is the last place for a woman like her. Jesus, the woman is annoyingly persistent. She just won't shut up. Do I need her? Like I need a lead noose tied around my neck. Go become a typist, Mrs. King. There's nothing for you here, although you don't have to seem so happy about it.
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Walking across the street, he tried to make her understand that it wasn't his idea that they work together again, especially as they'd be undercover as husband and wife.
This was a horrible idea, and I fully intend on telling Billy as much. For a woman who was practically begging me for a job this morning, she's being particularly choosy now that I'm being forced to ask for her help. She just doesn't understand how important the job is. If I tell her about the gun smuggling and my years of overseas experience, maybe she'll understand that working for the Agency is more than just a temporary distraction from whatever tedium passes for her day-to-day reality.
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After spending the afternoon setting up house and the evening entertaining their new, dull suburban neighbours, Lee was more than ready for a break. He came out of the ground floor bathroom, purposefully letting her see him unbuttoning his shirt.
Maybe this case won't be a complete bust. I've caught her checking me out on a couple occasions, and she's not hard on the eyes either. She's actually quite bright, when she stops talking long enough to let you consider what she's saying. She mentioned a boyfriend, but if she means that limp dishrag I saw her with the other day when I was tailing her, they couldn't possibly be seriously involved. I've seen the elderly kiss with more passion. I wonder if I can tempt her into bed with me before I have to go back to work tonight. It's not like I'll be seeing her again after this case is over. But she can't even say the word "affair", let alone have one. Her naïveté would be sort of charming if it wasn't standing in the way of me getting some. Last chance, Amanda. I see you looking at my chest. You don't know what you're missing.
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They were in the kitchen, getting ready for their day. Lee was getting increasingly annoyed at Amanda's insistence on decorating the house as though it was her own.
She really doesn't understand the difference between playing a cover and being yourself. For her, this is all real, right down to the blue kitchen curtains. And how dare she insinuate that I'm not normal! Just because I don't coach little league or drive a four-door car does not make me abnormal. I happen to lead a very exciting, exotic life. She's got a lot of nerve, telling me how to do my job when she's got, what? twelve hours of field experience to my ten years. But she brought up a really good point about the hair dryers. I hadn't made the connection between Betty Bodine's murder and Connie Beth. Just when I'm about to write her off as a green housewife in over her head, she goes toe-to-toe with me on my turf and comes out the winner. I was probably a bit hard on her earlier, but my ego is still stinging a bit from her complete dismissal of my come-on last night. Maybe I could be a bit more understanding. It's hardly her fault she's never been undercover before. Strange, how it feels good to make her feel better by simply complimenting her choice in kitchen curtains.
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Looking at Amanda pointedly in the eyes, he started to spin his tale about spying on Connie Beth.
Come on, Amanda. Come on. Work with me here. I'm trying to save both of our hides. That's it! Good girl. She's got a natural talent for this sort of thing, going on and on about my forcing her to spy for the competition. And the hairspray! Absolutely brilliant, and just the distraction I needed to get us both out of those offices, onto the roof and down to the ground to safety. I could feel her trembling in my arms when we were in the air, but now she's back to her normal, chatty but unflappable self. For someone with no experience having her life put in danger, she's handling this surprisingly well. Actually, this whole case has been pretty surprising. There's more going on with this woman than meets the eye, that's for sure. I'd like to find out more, but she just shot me down again when I asked her out for a drink. I guess she's going to have to remain a mystery, because now that our brief suburban marriage is over, I doubt I'll ever see her again. Odd, how I find that a bit disappointing.