Sydney stood, staring at him sitting there, oblivious to her presence . She really didn't know what to do, a wanted assassin, terrorist and all round not-so-nice-guy was sitting in her apartment and she had absolutely no idea how to react.
#That could be something to do with the hideous hangover. Sydney, come on! Option 1: Call the CIA and then secure him. Option 2: Apprehend and secure him, then call the CIA. Really not that hard.#
She stood there, just staring; she really couldn't pull herself away. The fact that he had the audacity to break into her apartment, stick around until morning and use her hangers amazed her.
#Yeah, and you, a world renowned CIA agent were too drunk to even realize he was in your apartment. He could have blown your brains out in your sleep and you wouldn't have done a thing to stop him. Actually why didn't he blow my brains out in my sleep? Sadistic bastard probably wanted to wait until this morning, at least it would end this hellish headache. Well I'll be damned if he gets away with it.#
With that Sydney took a confident step purposely toward the balcony, before halting and clutching her head.
#Gun! Oh, you're on the ball today, Syd.#
Carefully, and slowly, stepping back she kept her eyes on the head of blond hair and reached over and pulled open a kitchen drawer, feeling around at the back her fingers closed over a gun. Holding the gun up she resumed her stalk towards the balcony.
As she passed her kitchen table on her way to the balcony her eyes were distracted by something, something that seemed out of place. Averting her eyes ever so slightly she saw a brown folder, a brown folder that had something written on the front. Looking back up at Sark she kept her gun trained loosely on him, she really did feel too much like crap for anything else.
#Besides, if he had wanted to kill me he would have done it by now.
-Doesn't mean he won't maim you Sydney!!!! #
She groaned, her thoughts straining her mind. Moving over to the kitchen table she glanced down at the folder. Her breath caught in her throat.
Bristow. S.
- Thorne. J.
Her hand dropped to the folder, fingering its edge. This could be everything or nothing at all.
#Knowing Sark it won't be anything less than everything.#
It was this moment that she had been waiting for, hoping for, since she had woken up in Hong Kong on that fateful night and no matter what she told herself, she couldn't bring herself to open that folder. She couldn't,#won't#, admit it, but it scared her. Looking up at the man on her balcony Sydney realized that she didn't care, she didn't care that he was sitting there, didn't care about the dirty dishes on the side, the bottle of scotch on the table, her job or duty, she didn't care about anything but what was contained in the folder in front of her and about everything she was.
#It's a long time since I was the only thing I focused on..#
Sydney brandished the gun once more, holding it determinedly in front of her. Picking up the folder she walked to the balcony, the pounding in her head vaguely reminding her of the previous night's activities.
#Time to wake the annoying little brat up.#
Sliding the half open door harshly Sydney jabbed the gun into the back of Sark's head. Tossing the folder onto his lap she spoke in clipped, pointed tones.
"What's in it, Sark?"
#That could be something to do with the hideous hangover. Sydney, come on! Option 1: Call the CIA and then secure him. Option 2: Apprehend and secure him, then call the CIA. Really not that hard.#
She stood there, just staring; she really couldn't pull herself away. The fact that he had the audacity to break into her apartment, stick around until morning and use her hangers amazed her.
#Yeah, and you, a world renowned CIA agent were too drunk to even realize he was in your apartment. He could have blown your brains out in your sleep and you wouldn't have done a thing to stop him. Actually why didn't he blow my brains out in my sleep? Sadistic bastard probably wanted to wait until this morning, at least it would end this hellish headache. Well I'll be damned if he gets away with it.#
With that Sydney took a confident step purposely toward the balcony, before halting and clutching her head.
#Gun! Oh, you're on the ball today, Syd.#
Carefully, and slowly, stepping back she kept her eyes on the head of blond hair and reached over and pulled open a kitchen drawer, feeling around at the back her fingers closed over a gun. Holding the gun up she resumed her stalk towards the balcony.
As she passed her kitchen table on her way to the balcony her eyes were distracted by something, something that seemed out of place. Averting her eyes ever so slightly she saw a brown folder, a brown folder that had something written on the front. Looking back up at Sark she kept her gun trained loosely on him, she really did feel too much like crap for anything else.
#Besides, if he had wanted to kill me he would have done it by now.
-Doesn't mean he won't maim you Sydney!!!! #
She groaned, her thoughts straining her mind. Moving over to the kitchen table she glanced down at the folder. Her breath caught in her throat.
Bristow. S.
- Thorne. J.
Her hand dropped to the folder, fingering its edge. This could be everything or nothing at all.
#Knowing Sark it won't be anything less than everything.#
It was this moment that she had been waiting for, hoping for, since she had woken up in Hong Kong on that fateful night and no matter what she told herself, she couldn't bring herself to open that folder. She couldn't,#won't#, admit it, but it scared her. Looking up at the man on her balcony Sydney realized that she didn't care, she didn't care that he was sitting there, didn't care about the dirty dishes on the side, the bottle of scotch on the table, her job or duty, she didn't care about anything but what was contained in the folder in front of her and about everything she was.
#It's a long time since I was the only thing I focused on..#
Sydney brandished the gun once more, holding it determinedly in front of her. Picking up the folder she walked to the balcony, the pounding in her head vaguely reminding her of the previous night's activities.
#Time to wake the annoying little brat up.#
Sliding the half open door harshly Sydney jabbed the gun into the back of Sark's head. Tossing the folder onto his lap she spoke in clipped, pointed tones.
"What's in it, Sark?"