Part 4: kbrand5333
"Where the hell is she?" Arthur looks at his Rolex, frowning at her disdain for punctuality. He would have to remind her that minutes, even seconds can mean the difference between who it is that is on the receiving end of the kill shot.
At the fountain outside the main doors of the opera house. 7:45 p.m. sharp.
He sighs, irritated, and adjusts the harmless-looking cufflinks at his wrists. His hand reaches up to check his hair, which is slicked back away from his face, making it appear much darker than it actually is. That coupled with a very convincing false mustache and goatee complete his disguise.
The only distinguishing characteristics you may have are temporary ones.
The fountain is large and circular. Arthur decides to walk around it, on the off-chance that she is standing on the other side. He starts a slow circuit, striving to appear as a young man waiting for his date. It is not difficult, because that is essentially what he is doing.
Eyes scan the crowd, the people walking past, looking for the familiar head of dark brown curls. An old couple walking arm in arm. A young couple walking hand in hand. Another man looking for his companion. A woman applying lipstick.
No. This woman has short, straight, jet-black hair, cropped in a 1920's-style bob. She turns her head slightly, and he catches a glimpse of eyeglass frames beneath blunt-cut fringe. Not her.
Still...
He stops and takes a moment to enjoy the view. Long black dress hugging a curvaceous figure, perfectly shaped ass, toned arms and shoulders sitting proudly atop the strapless gown. A lily tattooed on her right shoulder. Bright red heels and a red clutch purse.
Wait. He steps closer, noting that this woman has the same latte-colored skin as DeGrace. She turns her head again, this time further. Bloody hell. It's her. Arthur grits his teeth angrily. He was checking out his apprentice. His trainee, for God's sake.
She didn't say anything about a wig. And that is not the dress he chose. Damn her.
Arthur walks to her, changing his normally silent gait so that she can hear his footfalls approaching. He doesn't want to startle her and end up flipped into the fountain.
"Ah, there you are, darling," Arthur says brightly, approaching her and bending to kiss her on the cheek.
Guinevere jumps slightly, not expecting the kiss. They were to appear as a couple out for a night of opera, but she was not prepared for that.
"I was waiting on the other side of the fountain," he says, his voice joking but his eyes were hard and cold as he looks pointedly at her, reminding her of her role.
"Oh, yes, silly me," she recovers and says brightly, taking his offered arm. "Do you have the tickets?"
"Yes, of course dear," he says, patting his breast pocket. Then, between gritted teeth, "What the hell are you wearing?"
"I didn't like the blue one. I couldn't move properly in it, the sleeves were too restricting. And what did you think you were doing back there?" she mutters back to him, attempting to turn the tables back to him.
"Pretense, DeGrace. The more we appear as a normal couple, the less conspicuous we are." With that, they reach the queue to present their tickets, stopping to shuffle along with the rest of the patrons.
He puts his arm around her shoulders. It unnerves her slightly, but she tries not to shrink away. Pretense, DeGrace.
"This had better be false," he mutters again, running his thumb lightly across the tattoo on her shoulder. To the casual observer it appears as nothing more than a man caressing the shoulder of his lover.
"It is," Gwen shoots back, angry at the little flip-flop her stomach did at his touch. "Contrary to what you may think, I do listen to you. Anything distinctive should be temporary," she adds, then reaches up to stroke his goatee, illustrating her point.
He presents their tickets to the attendant, who hands them back with a smile. "Enjoy the opera," the woman says as they walk into the sumptuous lobby, sauntering casually through the metal detectors on the way in.
Arthur's eyes scan the room for any sign of the target, still unsure of how Gwen is going to react when she finds out who their assignment is. As he looks around, his hand slides of its own accord across her shoulders and runs down her arm to take her hand in his.
Gwen bites her lower lip, shiny and red, furious with her body as it once again betrays her. She exhales sharply, and clenches her jaw.
Somewhere deep down the softness of her skin coupled with the view he just got of her cleavage rising above the bodice of her dress registers with his more primal, male instincts. He blinks for a moment, clearing his head, and continues his scan of the room.
Distraction indeed.