Sark, driving his black Mercedes again, pulled into the small parking space
that was designated for him in the
Credit Dauphine/SD-6 lot.
He was actually nervous. Something you would not expect from someone like him. He mentally shook himself. He is always so calm and collected; never showing his emotions.
'Today will not be the first day that I've had to hide my real thoughts from anyone', he thought.
Then he saw her. Game. Over.
Sydney was just walking into the building as Sark got out of his car. She was wearing another one of her boring, black business suits.
'Why in God's name she chooses to wear those horrifying outfits to work, I'll never know'.
Then he remembered something. With his smug look and icy cold eye features completely restored to his facial expression, he decides to approach her.
"Ms. Bristow", he calls out to her.
Sydney whirls around, hearing her name called.
Recognition clouds her features and she barely suppresses a gasp. Images of the night before in the rain flash before her in a matter of seconds.
He smirks when he notices her reaction to him.
"I was just wondering if you completely prepared for our mission next week", he says quietly when he has caught up to her.
"Our mission..."
"Well, surely you remember, do you not"?
"Obviously I don't, Mr. Sark. Perhaps you did not realize that when you were evaluating my facial expressions or having my every move watched 24/7", she retorts coolly.
"I am sorry you feel that way. We are in any case, going to Italy next week. If I were you, I would be speaking to Sloane the moment I got inside this building".
Sydney looked around, suddenly realizing that they were getting off an elevator and were already on the floor that she needed to be on.
She turns to look at him. he rewards her with yet another smile that does not quite reach his eyes. They are cold. Frosted over; she assumes they always have been.
"Yeah, well, I love you too, Mr. Sark". Then she gasps as she realizes the implications of what she said. Despite her sarcastic tone, she still wants to make sure that he understands exactly what she meant.
He already knows what she is thinking. That figures. He always does, the bastard.
"Have a nice day, Ms. Bristow. Say hello to your father for me".
He then turns and walks away almost gracefully, leaving her fuming mad and ready to shoot the next person that tries to speak to her.
Unbeknownst to her, Sark is chuckling as he walks away. He knows that he has won this round. However, he also knows that he has not won the entire war. He still needs to be a little wary around Sydney. She is still dangerous.
He turns a corner and heads into his office to start the day.
Sydney had already done the same. As he predicted she would to try to save face.
He congratulates himself once more before getting to work and setting up another meeting with some dull, boring man that happens to be living in Italy.
He was actually nervous. Something you would not expect from someone like him. He mentally shook himself. He is always so calm and collected; never showing his emotions.
'Today will not be the first day that I've had to hide my real thoughts from anyone', he thought.
Then he saw her. Game. Over.
Sydney was just walking into the building as Sark got out of his car. She was wearing another one of her boring, black business suits.
'Why in God's name she chooses to wear those horrifying outfits to work, I'll never know'.
Then he remembered something. With his smug look and icy cold eye features completely restored to his facial expression, he decides to approach her.
"Ms. Bristow", he calls out to her.
Sydney whirls around, hearing her name called.
Recognition clouds her features and she barely suppresses a gasp. Images of the night before in the rain flash before her in a matter of seconds.
He smirks when he notices her reaction to him.
"I was just wondering if you completely prepared for our mission next week", he says quietly when he has caught up to her.
"Our mission..."
"Well, surely you remember, do you not"?
"Obviously I don't, Mr. Sark. Perhaps you did not realize that when you were evaluating my facial expressions or having my every move watched 24/7", she retorts coolly.
"I am sorry you feel that way. We are in any case, going to Italy next week. If I were you, I would be speaking to Sloane the moment I got inside this building".
Sydney looked around, suddenly realizing that they were getting off an elevator and were already on the floor that she needed to be on.
She turns to look at him. he rewards her with yet another smile that does not quite reach his eyes. They are cold. Frosted over; she assumes they always have been.
"Yeah, well, I love you too, Mr. Sark". Then she gasps as she realizes the implications of what she said. Despite her sarcastic tone, she still wants to make sure that he understands exactly what she meant.
He already knows what she is thinking. That figures. He always does, the bastard.
"Have a nice day, Ms. Bristow. Say hello to your father for me".
He then turns and walks away almost gracefully, leaving her fuming mad and ready to shoot the next person that tries to speak to her.
Unbeknownst to her, Sark is chuckling as he walks away. He knows that he has won this round. However, he also knows that he has not won the entire war. He still needs to be a little wary around Sydney. She is still dangerous.
He turns a corner and heads into his office to start the day.
Sydney had already done the same. As he predicted she would to try to save face.
He congratulates himself once more before getting to work and setting up another meeting with some dull, boring man that happens to be living in Italy.
