CHAPTER 3 – WINNING THE GENETIC LOTTERY

Pretty is something you're born with. But beautiful, that's an equal opportunity adjective.

― Ralph Waldo Emerson

People are like stained-glass windows. They sparkle and shine when the sun is out, but when the darkness sets in, their true beauty is revealed only if there is a light from within."

― Elisabeth Kübler-Ross

"So, the cross is always ready and waits for you everywhere. You cannot escape it no matter where you run, for wherever you go you are burdened with yourself. Wherever you go, there you are."

—Thomas a Kempis, Imitation of Christ, ca. A.D. 1440.

Jon entered my office and scanned it quickly but thoroughly. I wasn't offended; I did the same thing when I entered a place. I was betting that in the few seconds he looked around he saw everything there was to see. Every window, door, exit and the floor layout. That let me know a couple of things about him. One, he was more than he appeared to be, although his eyes had already told me that. The second thing was that he was almost surely ex-military. The latter wasn't only because of how he analyzed the place, but mostly the way he moved. He moved like a cat, gracefully, elegantly and ready to pounce in an instant, if needed. He appeared completely at easy and relaxed, but he wasn't fooling me. If a threat suddenly materialized, he would react immediately and with extreme violence. His body was a work of art, functional and built with the purpose to fight and kill. His clothing was what also gave him away. He was all in black: t-shirt, jeans and combat boots. They clung to his muscular frame. He looked delicious and dangerous.

I wasn't worried. I presented no threat to him and his behavior seemed more like it was the result of years of training that was so well ingrained that he'd probably never be able to completely shake it off.

I let him do his thing for a few seconds and then I spoke.

"Would you like something to drink, Mr. Snow? Coffee, tea, water?"

"Sure. If it's not too much trouble, I'll take a coffee, black, please."

"It's no trouble at all. Please, follow me."

I took him to my little kitchen alcove which was by the right off the front desk. I had already brewed some coffee right before he was scheduled to show up. I took the carafe, selected my favorite mug and because I just couldn't resist selected the Witcher mug for him, it was the closest I had to a medieval warrior. I served both mugs. I put four spoons of sugar into mine, which got me an amused look from him and served his black. I handed him his cup and picked mine up.

He looked at it, saw the Witcher logo, smirked, and looked back at me. I gave him my most innocent smile.

He shook his head and chuckled, but made no comment. And he drank it.

"Should we adjourn to my office, so we can talk more comfortably?"

"Sure. Please, lead the way."

I locked the outer door on my way to my office, for privacy and security. That earned me an approving glance from Jon.

I lead him inside my domain and gestured for him to sit in the chair in front of my desk. He sat and so did I.

"So, Mr. Snow, I have to say I'm curious why you're interested in the PI business and especially why you're interested in the position of my assistant. I'm hoping you can make me understand, before we discuss anything else."

"That's fair enough, although a rather private issue. I'll try to summarize for your benefit."

"I'd rather you elaborated. I can assure you I'll be more than capable of following the whole story, although I take no pleasure in violating your privacy; I still need to know your personal reasons. You don't own me your life story, but I find that people's private motivations are always the most relevant."

Jon regarded me for a beat and nodded.

"The short version is that I have spent the last decade traveling the word. I left when I was 28 years-old and haven't been back since. I'm now 38 years-old and I've decided to put down some roots here. I was tired of my nomadic life. Coming back here seemed like the obvious choice. I don't have any family left besides my cousin Sansa. She's being bugging me to come back for years, so when I was ready I did."

He wasn't telling me anything I already didn't know or hadn't guessed. That wouldn't do.

"Mr. Snow, you're not telling me anything I don't already know or had guessed. Sansa was the one that got you this meeting through my best friend, Missandei. She also mentioned you had been abroad for a decade. Let's try again. What did you do before you left to travel the world?"

"That's not important."

"I beg to differ. It's vitally important. You've been vague and somewhat evasive so far, that doesn't bode well for a future working relationship. You're under no obligation to tell me, so if you choose not to tell me, no harm no foul. We'll part ways amicably. It's your choice, of course."

Oh, he wasn't happy. He really didn't want to tell me. I didn't understand. If I had read him correctly he was ex-military and there was no shame in that. That's when I remembered his eyes when I opened the door. He was ashamed of something and he had been through some sort of hell. His time in the military hadn't been easy. He was looking straight into my eyes and the shadows I had seen is his eyes before were much more pronounced now. I didn't want to cause him pain, but if he wanted the job with me I had to know about his previous experiences, not in detail, but I still had a right to know. Problem was, he seemed reluctant. So, I decided to speed things along. Either he was going to leave after what I planned to say or he would leave anyway because I wasn't hiring him if he continued to behave so mysteriously.

"Okay, Mr. Snow. I can see you're not too keen to get into it. So, give me a chance to make an educated guess and if I'm right you'll tell me so, with no further details. And if I'm wrong, well I'm rarely wrong."

He looked doubtfully at me. He probably thought I was insane.

"You know me for less than ten minutes and you think you can tell me about my past?"

"Yes. Are you too chicken to find out?"

"No, I'm worried about your arrogance."

He did not say that! I glared at him.

"Let's see if you still think I'm arrogant in a minute. You ready?"

I just said it to mock him a little.

"Do your worst."

Damn, I was going to be more diplomatic about it before his attitude annoyed the hell out me. Not anymore though.

"You're ex-military. Special Ops almost surely. You saw horrible shit and probably did bad things as well. You've killed, but in the name of our Country. You did it for longer than most and in the end it wore you down. So, you quit and tried civilian life while traveling the world. You were trying to get away from your bloody past. However, it didn't work as you hoped. Sure, it was a distraction for a while and more comfortable than serving. But, the thing you were trying to escape from wasn't just a place out there. It was inside of you. And as the saying goes: Wherever you go, there you are."

I spread my hands to make my point and waited for his reaction. I might have judged this poorly and he could freak out on me. But, I had this feeling that Jon rarely lost control if he didn't want to and that he appreciated honesty. Since I was a very truthful person, it'd be nice if he got used to it quickly.

The silent stretched out. Jon was staring at my eyes like he wanted to x-ray my brain. Finally, he spoke.

"You're a very perceptive woman, Ms. Targaryen."

"How perceptive of you to notice, Mr. Snow."

He laughed, which was exactly what I was going for. The vibe in the room had certainly gotten lighter.

"And you aren't afraid of me?"

"No. Should I be? You're a soldier, not a butcher."

"Some might disagree with you on that."

"Wars aren't pretty, Mr. Snow. The fact that you seem to find so difficult to carry the weight of the things you've done, speaks well of your character. And I have a feeling that the only person who considers you a butcher is yourself. You're not sociopathic or psychopathic."

"How can you know?"

"Because the main characteristics of those afflictions are lack of guilt and empathy. If you felt neither you wouldn't have spent a decade wallowing."

"Wallowing?"

"Brooding, hiding, running way. Call it what you like. You get my point. And I'm not judging you, just stating the facts. I'm in no way diminishing what you went through. I can't even imagine and to be honest I don't want to. I respect your service and the scars you carry because of it. Your past has no bearing on my decision to hire you or not. I simply needed to know what type of work you did before and what skills you might possess. Did you go to college or did you join young?"

I was sure he had joined when he was eighteen and that he hadn't gone to college. Jon continued his heavy regard of me, but answered.

"I joined right out of high school and no, I didn't go to college. I do speak several languages though; and I'm self-thought in a variety of subjects. I didn't only brood during my travels, you know?"

I laughed. And his comment about his knowledge of foreign languages gave me another clue.

"Good to know. One more question, did you do intelligence work while you were in the military?"

"Among other things. How did you know?"

"Your comment about speaking other languages, although I have no doubt you added more to your list during your travels."

He inclined his head. I realized I had thrown Jon off his game, something I was sure didn't happen often. He hadn't been expecting me and my insight. He had been expecting my questions and was ready to evade and give as little as possible back. It wasn't working according to his plan. He was going to change tactics soon enough. He didn't give the impression of a man who liked to lose, quite the contrary. I let the silence stretch. People tend to speak to break uncomfortable silences. Jon probably wasn't one of them, but I was betting he was feeling somewhat vulnerable, something he wasn't used to, so he would be the one to speak first. I was right.

"You're not what I was expecting, Ms. Targaryen."

I bet.

"How so, Mr. Snow?"

"You're very perceptive, as I already told you. You're wise for your age and extremely bright. And…"

He seemed reluctant to continue. My curiosity was peaked.

"And…?" I made a go on gesture

He looked me dead in the eyes and continued.

"And you're breathtakingly beautiful."

And there it was. His attempt to turn the tables. He'd have to do better than that. But, of all the things I had imagined he could have said, that hadn't even entered my mind. It gave me pause. He said it so matter-of-factly. I could tell he was being completely honest and that he hadn't said it with any lust, desire or heat. It was said as a statement of fact. Like he simply had said: You're blonde. I couldn't deny it did things to me. I didn't think a man had ever said those words to me before. Especially not a man as gorgeous as Jon Snow.

Many thoughts and possible replies came to mind, but what came out of my mouth was:

"So are you."

His eyes widened and he looked utterly shocked, and strangely enough a little annoyed. But, I went on.

"Let's not play coy, Mr. Snow. You are a very handsome man and I'm not blind. Apparently, you find me attractive also. So, should we congratulate each other on randomly winning the genetic lottery, high five and have it done?

He gave another of his booming laughs that warmed me all over. Still, I kept going.

"However, I'm guessing your good looks aren't your best attribute are they? They aren't mine either."

At that he gave me a sharp look. And I once more gleaned something about him. Jon might be a man, but he had been objectified by his looks. His beauty had hindered him somehow in his life. He had to work harder to be taken seriously. I was also betting that women threw themselves at him, which I could very well understand, but I bet most weren't interested in knowing the real him since they would be too dazzled by the exterior. Don't get me wrong, I was sure he enjoyed being that handsome and probably took every advantage it afforded him. He had learned to work it to his benefit, something that came with age and experience. And with that realization, my estimation of him grew. After all, I knew all about being objectified. Sure, I knew I had had way worse than him, but he had had a taste of it, knew how it felt and he clearly didn't enjoy it. I respected that.

"Touché, Ms. Targaryenn. Touché."

A/N: Sooooo, what did you guys think of their interaction? I confess this chapter was hard to write. I'm still not sure I got the tone right. I'd appreciate some feedback, because I have two different ideas on how the rest of their interaction might go in the next chapter. I beg you, let me know your thoughts. Thanks!