God, his head felt like it was splitting in two.
Groaning softly, Red buried his face in his pillow- thankful for some time alone- as his finger threaded into the other side.
Despite how much it pained him to admit it, Widow was a good teacher- calm and patient when she desired to be- unfortunately, the Russian man had discovered he wasn't very good at this 'Occlumency'.
Though he was improving if Widow was to be believed.
Still...
Failure was failure.
Three minutes or Five minutes, it was still considered failure until he mastered it and could actually hold the mental barrier constantly on more of a subconscious effort.
It would just take more time- and a hell of a lot more aspirins- then he had originally set aside for it. If he put in more effort though, the Russian was quite certain he would reach his deadline.
Using his elbows to push himself up and off the bed, the rouge eyed man sighed softly before going to hunt down Widow- if he had time to complain- and mentally rant- then he obviously wasn't working hard enough.
To be fair, she had warned him. She had told him, he would need to rest but the stubborn rouge was quite fixated and just wouldn't listen.
Shaking her head softly, Widow allowed herself to let out a soft wispy sigh as blood red eyes stared down at the unconscious man on the floor.
Twenty straight hours of mental strain equivalent to being run over by a train a couple dozen times was just too much for anyone.
Stubborn man, never listening to her even when he should.
She should just cut out his heart and eat it for this- that would surely teach him for ignoring her advice and allowing himself to be vulnerable like this- but she wouldn't.
Crouching down, the albino placed her hands on her knees.
"What am I going to do with you?"
Getting no answer- not that she expected one- Widow stood before grabbing the man's arm and pulling it around her neck to help lift the Russian.
"You're going to owe me lunch for this. Maybe an all expense paid shopping tip too."
This was Hell.
There was no other words Red could possible think of to describe his current situation. Why the Hell was he even here?
"How does this look?"
"You look pregnant."
Ducking slightly, the Russian sighed as a mannequin flew past when his head once was.
"You're not supposed to tell that to a woman, Red. Where's your usual charm?"
"Right now? Dead. Where I will soon be joining it out of embarrassment if we do not leave soon."
He had been here for Ten hours now.
Ten cursed hours in a woman's lingerie store.
Ten hours he could have spent doing paperwork, working in his lab or even working on that damn Occlumency but Nyet, he just had to be here with Widow while she tried on everything she could reach before asking his opinion.
"I'm sure you will, but before that: help me carry my bags. "
Not waiting for a reply Widow proceeded to dump all of her forty seven bags into a rather annoyed Russian's hands.
This was Hell.
He was a man of action not a man of words yet here he was standing in the Nancy Cat's terrain listening to the christened "M" explain everything.
How big of a fool had he been not to connect his Red with that or the Red Squirrel, the other had practically told him to his face on several occasions. Hell, he could clearly recall one time where the two had been sharing a bed and the smaller had told him he planned to steal the microchip.
Yet at the time, the ebony haired man had just labeled it as a sense of bed humor.
God Damn It!
The Russian had told him everything he needed to know, yet he had never once connected the facts to the truth. No wonder the Nancy Cat was being such a cocky bastard, he had known and done nothing but watch in humor- no doubt wanting this to happen. Wanting him to fail.
Yet there was still a chance, he had screwed up but by their own admission the rouge still had the chip, therefore he had yet to fail. He would just have to convenience the smaller to hand it over or steal it back before it exchanged hands towards its final destination:
The Mad Owl, Victor von Sova.
There was still time. So why the hell was he wasting it listening to these Nancy Cats?
M just loved to spoil his fun.
Oh and what fun it had been, stringing the rather obvious American along with promises of knowing where Mr. Red had gone.
The emerald eyed man actually did know where Red was but still he had no intent on telling the other- Nigel had half hoped the other would become desperately lost within the city while searching vainly.
Yet M just had to assign him to the wretched man. If the American got lost on his watch it would tarnish his record, something the spy refused to allow- Not for the Bloody American.
Therefore Nigel fount himself guiding the rather directionless- 'I said left not straight upwards!' -American throughout London.