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Birkhoff closed the door quietly behind him, smiling. He'd left an impression on Alex, he knew he had. Whether or not she ran with it, that was up to her.
He began to amble down the hallway and was still deep in thought about it when he nearly ran straight into Nathan.
"Excuse me," Birkhoff said, uncharacteristically polite.
"I've been waiting for you," Nathan said darkly.
Birkhoff looked up at him, confused. Nathan was glaring at him, and it would be intimidating if Nathan wasn't so unthreatening. More of the friendly, puppy dog type. "Come again?"
"Alex told me about what you people do, so you stay away Alex, you got it?" he demanded, pointing a finger at his chest.
Birkhoff chortled. "Okay, look buddy," he began, gingerly shoving the finger off of him. "You being Alex's knight in shining armor is cute, but she doesn't need it. I'm not trying to hurt her."
"Then what is what of her work buddies doing storming into her apartment."
"Talk to her about it," he shrugged, and Birkhoff attempted to walk past him again. He stepped in front of him.
"That totally isn't annoying," Birkhoff droned.
"If I see you again, you expect to answer to me, alright?"
"You realize Alex is part of a spy agency, right?" Birkhoff clarified. "And spies tend to carry guns? Or do you plan to stun me with your good looks?"
"I'm not laughing," Nathan snapped.
"Neither am I. Actually, what I'd like to do is leave."
"You hurt Alex, and I will kill you, you hear me?"
"Are you going to be that obsessive ex that goes to his old girlfriend's house and shoots everybody? Because let me tell you something, that's a telltale sign of an unhealthy relationship."
"You think you're so funny."
Birkhoff scoffed loudly, quite fed up with hearing the phrase. Why couldn't people realize he was, in fact, hilarious?
"Bye, man," he spat, frustrated. Nathan tried to block his path again, but Birkhoff was able to barrel past him, which admittedly, he was pretty amped about. It made him feel tough and stuff.
As Birkhoff reached the elevator, he started to think. Alex clearly wanted something bad enough to revert back to her old stints in forcefully applied immorality. Something big. Probably being a heroine, someone being in danger or whatnot.
Birkhoff couldn't put the pieces together. He wasn't sure what Alex was trying to pull off that called for Division not listening on it.
But he decided that he wanted to help her.
He was a computer whiz. That much had been noted. Disabling a tracking chip was lofty business, though. It called for numerous passwords, some of them only known by Percy himself.
But, of course, Birkhoff was going to try for her. He got out his complicated, tiny computer thing and began his work. . . .
Alex was to be chauffeured to her mission location. She found herself in a shady, black fan commandeered by some equally shady men in suits and sunglasses.
"Where are you taking me?" she asked them.
"Mission location," one of them replied.
"Yeah, I figured that much. I mean, where? Where is the mission going down?"
"A hotel within the city," the driver told me.
"But he's never even met me," I pointed out. "Why would this guy agree to meet a women he's never met in a hotel room?"
The men exchange lofty looks.
"Oh," Alex was struck with realization. "Oh."
"We're not judging you, Miss," the man in the passenger seat assured her. "These kinds of missions go down often."
"What a respectable establishment we're a part of, huh?" she groaned, pressing her fingers to her forehead.
The men chortled good-naturedly.
"Here we are, Miss," the driver announced a while later. "It's room 418."
"Thanks," she replied shortly, feeling for the pistol strapped to her thigh for reassurance.
"Ready, Alex?" she heard in her head.
"Awesome," Alex mumbled.
"Don't be so grumpy, Alex," Amanda insisted. "I'm here to assist you."
"You don't exactly qualify as my guardian angel."
"I'm a good temp, though, aren't I?"
"Not even close."
"As long as you lose that attitude once you get inside, Alex," Amanda said smoothly.
Alex got out of the car and made her way inside, feeling sick the whole way up the elevator to the fourth floor. The fourth floor. The fourth floor out of seventeen floors. I mean, he could at least be the penthouse type. Lush surrounding might comfort her. Or make her feel classier.
Alex ran a hand through her hand, curled and rumpled to extreme sexiness, which also made her feel sick. She was chock full of sickly feelings this evening.
The doors reopened all too soon, and she stepped out into the hotel hallway. The carpet absorbed the sound her heels had been making. It was quiet besides the soft rustle of her shoes and the creepy breathing going on in her head.
She reached her destination quickly. She knocked on the door of room 418 twice.
The door opened to an olive-skinned, balding man in a navy suit.
And Alex went in to mission mode.
She stuck out her hip, rested one hand on it, and plastered on a playful smile.
"Hey," she greeted him intriguingly. "Liverfield, am I right?"
And the mission began.
"You are Alexandria, correct?" Liverfield asked.
"Might as well be," she shrugged. She scrunched her nose and eyebrows little when she said it, and with her thick make-up on, she knew how good she must have looked when she did. Red lips, black-rimmed eyes, rosy cheesy. Alex was kind of ashamed how easy this would be for her, provided she didn't have an emotional breakdown, considering her sketchy past as a sex slave. "Can I come in?"
Livefield stepped aside. "Of course you may."