She despises the role that was always forced upon her as Cipher Pol Nine's only female. She was assigned to Iceburg, placed closest and nearest to him for the very specific reason of working her way as close to his bedroom as she could. But it soon becomes clear her obligated advances were being shot down each time and his persuasions lay elsewhere. Kalifa sighs in deep relief at Iceburg's eventual admission, breathing out one of her own in response.
When she gets back home that night, she laughs and cries in equal measure, diffusing tension she was unaware she had been holding all throughout her body for weeks around him. Spandam was a complete fool to have placed her in this role, and to spite him, she doesn't report the confession.
She places more attention on Iceburg afterwards however, free from the unconscious distance and the wall she'd built for her own protection. She maintains to her fellow agents that she is still trying to get close to him. To tell the truth would be to break the trust that she's surprised to find she wants to maintain with him. Iceburg does not reveal to anyone the admission of her own. And perhaps she is still trying to get closer, but it's less to do with her mission and more the appealing lure of solidarity.
She watches him everyday in his office and at the docks, gets accustomed to the ways that he struggles to keep on top of his heaving workload. She learns how best to help him stay on track. Though she'd only gleaned a fraction of knowledge on shipbuilding in preparation for the mission, she can see he's incredibly talented, both in his design work and in his craft. She's surprised by the odd stubborn quirks he shows from time to time and when he outright refuses to do something he really doesn't want to. But there was charm in his eccentricities, and she respects his ability to say no. She indulges him more than she knows she should because of it. She'd like to learn how to say no just the same.
His diary is carried with her everywhere, and within it, his whole life is documented in heavy schedules, all of his work and his political commitments that she tables in for him with deft precision. She tails him like a shadow everywhere in observation, and gets to know things about him that maybe even he wasn't consciously aware of. Details written in the way that he walked, with quiet self-assurance, or who his eyes would shift to in a room, not the people she might have expected. She notes too that he always held himself back from reaching out, whether deliberately or not. Within it, she senses a hesitance that was at odds with a man who seems to push on through the difficulties he faces no matter what. He chooses silence and to remain baring them alone. She considers questioning him about it, but is hesitant herself. It feels like a betrayal of protocol to admit she feels drawn to talk with him for personal rather than investigative reasons. To ease the loneliness of being that she knew he shared.
If he was a woman, Kalifa would be lost to him completely.
As his company grows in size and status, there is fuss and eyes on both of them, always watching them and guessing. Questions are thrown from the press or in accusations from the men at the shipyards. From one uncouth and overtly jealous rigging foreman particularly, who maintains she was after their boss because he was clearly just too cowardly to take the initiative himself.
They never out each other, and instead build a shared joke of teasing the speculators to cope, laughing wildly in his office together about it afterwards with a shared round of too many drinks, something harder than just their usual tea.
In the slightly dizzy fog, she sees only things she wants to see in him, all the feminine qualities she realises she actually was growing a little infatuated with. A trick of the drunk haze makes his face look softer, shifting her focus to his gentleness and vulnerability that sit under the surface.
She forgets to stop herself from leaning in to press her lips gently to his, their lipstick smudging together into the one singular tone.
"Kalifa…" Iceburg begins apologetically.
"Sorry, I don't know what just came over me sir," she states dismissively.