[Steve]
The soft murmuring of guests mixed with the quiet harmonies of a string quartet echoed from inside of the stately hotel as the sleek limousine smoothly glided under the deep sapphire blue of the pavilion. Gold letters embroidered on the fabric flapping slightly in a frigid breeze read L'hôtel Cigogne
"The Stork Hotel." Quinn mused. "They paid for this event with money that was supposed to go towards keeping the city clean." She stated, a hint of disgust in her tone.
"You speak French?" I asked, not even bothering to question how she knew what money went towards which event.
"Oui. Bien que je n'ai pas parlé depuis un moment, je suis encore assez couramment." She said as our limo inched towards the doors, the driver being directed by a valet.
"I'm taking that as a yes." I replied, only understanding fragments of what she said. "I used to know a couple of people who spoke French when I was in the war, so I picked a little bit up. Mind you, they were mostly curse words."
"I can only imagine." She smirked.
The limousine came to a stop, and I turned to her. My mood had slightly dampened with the thought of my comrades back when I was fighting HYDRA in World War II, but it quickly dissipated.
"Are you ready? Make sure to keep your earpiece on." I reminded as I pressed the tiny, inconspicuous silver dot on the inside of my ear, turning it on. Thankfully, SHIELD had programmed it to only play what others connected to your earpiece were saying when they were out of hearing distance so a little voice in your ear wouldn't be repeating the same thing the person beside you was saying. Another technological marvel I hadn't even expected to exist.
She did the same and nodded to me. "I'll open the door for you." I said, climbing out of the car and smoothing my tuxedo before making my way over to the side of the car.
I pulled open the door and offered my hand to help her out. Her gloved hand closed around mine, surprisingly warm as I assisted her out of the car and closed the door behind us with a click. The agent driving gave a nod to me before pulling away. As soon as she was standing steadily on the pavement she dropped my hand, leaving a faint, warm remembrance of its presence.
Remembering my manners, I held out my arm for her to take. "Kathleen." I said, a small smile on my face.
"My dear George." The corners of her lips slightly twitched upwards as she clung to my proffered arm and we began striding into the hotel, a doorman holding open the gleaming glass and bronze doors for us. Our feet echoed against the impeccable, white, marble tile swirled with black and gray as I escorted her through the entrance. I noticed that Quinn must have been purposefully walking louder than she usually does to act more like a normal party attendee.
"You have the invitations?" She asked as we walked across the lobby and towards the ballroom that S.H.I.E.L.D. had shown us on the blueprints of the hotel.
"In my pocket." I answered.
She nodded and then mumbled quieter, "I really don't like this mission. I hate parties like this."
I didn't have time to ask her why as we rounded the corner, coming to the doors of the ballroom and face to face with two hotel employees dressed in wrinkle free, white suits with black ties.
"Oh, George, really." A tinkling laugh came from beside me and I was almost caught off guard as Quinn smiled, pushing me lightly as if I had just told a joke. Smiling and going along with it, I laughed too, glancing down at her grinning face and my heart skipped a beat, which I ignored.
To anyone else, she would seem like a happy and perfectly normal woman, but I quickly saw through her forced laugh and cheerful mask. I have to say, though, that she was good. It made me wonder if she had done this before, seeing how easily she was able to put up a happy façade.
I wonder what she would look like if she was really smiling? I mused to myself. Even when she's faking it, she's still beautiful. Glancing up, I noticed we were approaching the employees and I chastised myself for being distracted. I needed to keep my mind on the mission at hand.
Without missing a beat, I pulled the cream invitations with gold embellished font out of my tuxedo pocket, holding it up for the workers. They simply nodded and let us pass into the expansive ballroom, its marble floors and pillars gleaming and the room was strewn with sapphire tapestries.
"We're looking for Howard Krale." Quinn muttered, a smile still plastered on her face. We both silently surveyed the room, a sea of neatly pressed, designer tuxedos and lavish gowns. In the corner of the room on a small stage, a quartet consisting of a violin, cello, bass, and viola played; the general chatter and laughter of guests mingling and the clinking of crystal glasses mixed with the soothing, classical music.
"Why haven't I had the pleasure to be introduced to this enchanting young lady?" A voice rang from beside us. Turning, we saw a man stride up to us, dressed in an expensive, dark navy suit and carrying a glass of champagne. He was slim and lean with dark brown hair and a handsome, clean shaven face,
"Kathleen O'Donnell." Quinn introduced herself, delicately extending her hand which the man took and kissed lightly. "And this is my fiancé, George Truman."
The man nodded dismissively to me before turning back to her. "Fiancé? What a shame! Why are all of the gorgeous women around here already taken?" He asked jokingly in a stricken expression which quickly melted away as Quinn laughed lightly and I forced a small smile on my face, for some reason annoyed with the man in front of me.
"My name is Edward J. Poole." He extended his hand for me to shake, which I did politely, gripping it tightly.
"Nice to meet you." I told him as we both dropped our hands to our sides.
"Likewise." He answered. He turned as a voice from across the room called, "Poole!" and a man standing with a group of people motioned for him to join the small gathering, his hand waving.
"Ah, that's my cue for my departure." With a warm smile to Quinn, he said, "If your fiancé doesn't mind, I would like to have a dance with you later." He winked.
"I'll see what I can do." She replied, smiling, but with a glance at her I could tell that was the last thing she wanted to do.
As Poole strode towards his posse of friends, Quinn led me across the floor to a corner surrounded by tall, glass windows and partly shrouded from view by a large. leafy potted plant.
"Edward Poole is a high end lawyer and a friend of Krale." She reported.
As we talked a waiter approached us and offered us a glass of champagne, which Quinn politely accepted, closing her fingers around the stem of the glass delicately as I did the same. She dropped my arm as she held the glass of clear liquid and looked around the room. Even though she took one, she didn't drink it.
"It's best if we get one now so we won't be bothered again." She explained, eying the drink slightly distastefully.
"You don't drink?" I asked, a bit surprised as I took a small sip.
She shook her head no. "No, and I don't think I ever will." Her eyes glanced around the gala, taking in faces as she inconspicuously searched for Krale. "I've seen what it can do to people." A bitter note laced her voice.
I wasn't able to press further as the music came to a halt and an older man with a microphone stepped onto the stage,
"Welcome to the tenth annual Winter's Gathering hosted by our city council!" He cheerfully said, pausing for the attendees' applause The man, I didn't catch his name, went into a long winded speech that I didn't bother paying attention to, downing the rest of my drink for nothing better to do as my eyes wandered the crowd, searching for the face of Krale but to no avail in the room full of party goers.
Eventually, the man stepped off of the stage and the music started up again.
"I can't find him." Quinn said quietly. "We need a better point to look from, I can't see anything from the edges."
Glancing up as a few couples made their way to the center of the room and began dancing, I raised an eyebrow at her, seeing her eye the dancers.
"You want to dance?"
"It's not my cup of tea, but we're wasting time. After this an auction is starting, and we'll lose our chance to lure Krale away without making a scene." She said, not looking too happy at the prospect of dancing. I noticed a man walk by but double back as he saw Quinn, his eyes appraisingly tracing her body as he made his way towards us.
Not in the mood for another chat with a random admirer of hers, I held out my arm for her to take. "In that case, would you care to dance, Kathleen?" I took her glass and put it, along with mine, on the empty, silver tray of a passing waiter.
She nodded to me with an apologetic smile directed at the man who was now only about ten feet away from us and allowed me to lead her to the dance floor, where she put her hands on my shoulders and I placed mine carefully on her waist, feeling the cool silk under my fingers as we slowly swayed in a circle, couples doing the same around us.
"See him?" I whispered, swallowing my nervousness and focusing on the task at hand. Quinn subtly shook her head.
"You know," She leaned forwards, her breath tickling my neck below my ear as she murmured, causing a small shiver to run through me. I found it suddenly hard to focus on the mission as her scent wrapped around me, spicy and intoxicating but with a hint of something floral. I didn't have a clue what it was, but it was delicious. "This reminds me of when we first met. So romantic."
Her eyes glinted with humor as I caught onto the sarcastic tone of her voice. For a second, I wished that she didn't have to wear the green colored contacts so I could get a better look at the silver of her eyes. Following the lead of the twirling people around us, I spun her, watching her dress swirl as she came back to rest her hands on my shoulders, sending warmth through me.
"Hmm, the warehouse was a bit more romantic. The broken windows sure were a nice touch ." I mused, making her smirk.
"Nine o'clock, to the left of the buffet table." She said suddenly as we turned in a slow circle, our steps matching perfectly as we danced.
For a second, I didn't know what she was talking about but was soon hit with the remembrance that we were on a mission, not here simply for fun. Nodding, I glanced to the spot of the room she had previously described and saw him. Howard Krale was holding a large glass of white wine in one of his hands as he talked animatedly to a woman in a deep purple dress, his gray, thinning hair gelled back stiffly and his rectangular, silver glasses glinting in the light.
All too soon, the song ended and all of partners bowed or curtsied to each other. Quinn and I did the same, our eyes meeting each other's but breaking apart after a moment.
"Care to have a chat with Mr. Krale?" I inquired as she once again took my arm, smiling vaguely at random people as we cut through the crowd,
"Sounds lovely."
We had almost reached the corner where Krale was standing when someone stopped in front of us and blocked our path, an annoying little smirk on his face. Poole.
"I was wondering if I could dance with your fiancé for one song." He asked, more like expected, as he held his arm out for her to take without stopping to hear her answer. "Kathleen?"
"Of course!" She smiled up at him, taking his arm. "George, why don't you go get us some snacks? I am a bit famished from all of this dancing." She said, motioning towards the area where our target was.
Nodding and giving a stiff smile, I made my way to the buffet table, slightly peeved. I glanced back to catch Quinn's eye, noticing her attempting to keep up her façade as her eyes glinted with her annoyance towards Poole.
I sipped another glass of champagne as I watched her and Poole dance, his hands sliding a bit too far down her waist and his cocky face a bit too close to her ear for my liking.
What the hell is going on with you, Rogers? I asked myself as I eyed the two. You need to keep your mind on the mission and off of Quinn. She's the Phantom, a notorious vigilante who's killed people and who you know nothing about. But, I admitted, she is gorgeous. And she's a fighter; she's tough. And...
I snapped out of my thoughts and kept an eye on Howard Krale as I also listened to Quinn's conversation with Poole. Downing my third glass of champagne as I watched the two, I realized something.
I may or may not have been attracted to the Phantom, but I wasn't sure yet. It was still just over a year since the ice, the awakening into the twenty first century, and Peggy. The funny thing was that when I was with Quinn, I forgot all about Peggy, forgot about everything else except her.
Ok, you like her. I admitted to myself. I didn't know for sure how much I was attracted to her, though. It had only been a few days since I'd met her, but I already caught myself watching her from across the room and thinking about her when I wasn't with her. In just a few short days, the mysterious and elusive Phantom had completely captured my attention, had seared her presence into my mind since the moment I'd met her in the warehouse.
Oh boy, Rogers. I thought. You're in trouble.