Chapter 17: Mr. and Mrs. Sokolov

Rocinante was still fumbling with his tie when the group of three arrived at the gala. He and Aylin were undercover—much to his delight—as a husband and wife who were friends of Denise and looking to invest in a cutting-edge, up-and-coming weapons manufacturer by the name of Pritchard Technologies.

She was going to introduce them to the ambitious businessman who owned the company; a cutthroat young man by the name of Leblanc Pritchard. He had accomplished a remarkable feat during his short years as a CEO, already dominating the legitimate weapons market after having completely sunk his competition—including Slade Enterprises, the corporation which had once held that spot for nearly half a century.

Rocinante wondered if Aylin was feeling a little uncomfortable with the arrangement, but if that were the case, she hadn't allowed it to show. Still, he worried; he certainly didn't want to cheapen the idea of marriage, in either his eyes or hers. She'd been married once before, after all, whereas Rocinante had little to no experience in such matters. His life had never allowed for anything remotely 'normal' like going on dates or having a girlfriend.

He knew perfectly well how to tie a marine knot, but he'd never actually had a reason to tie a necktie before. His failure to do so was beyond embarrassing. He pulled it off and stuck it into his pocket as the three of them were escorted into the courtyard of the lavish mansion, which was better described as a castle—Rocinante counted at least five stories, including a small turret made entirely of glass that looked like it had been created exclusively for stargazing or perhaps elaborate people-watching. He idly wished that he could take Aylin up there, but of course this trip was strictly for business purposes.

The castle was quite impressive nonetheless. It was the tallest building on the island by far, accented by dozens of statues which were all made of the same type of solid glass material, tinted the faintest shade of blue. Rocinante tucked his limbs closer to his body, scared that he might set off a chain reaction of destruction if he weren't careful. It seemed that everywhere he looked there were more breakables.

It was a small hike to reach the massive double doors that marked the entrance of the Pritchard estate. The doors themselves were not made of glass, but the ornate doorknobs were.

"Darling…" Denise glanced up at him as he fumbled for a smoke, trying to calm himself down.
He really wanted to look good on his first official mission as an Escort.

"Relax. You look exactly the part, what with that charming face…but we must fix that tie!" She held out her hand, and Rocinante sheepishly pulled the now-crumpled maroon material out of his pocket. Denise looked mildly amused. "You should've said something. There's no shame in a man needing help with his tie." She then tied it with expert swiftness, as though she'd done it a thousand times before.

"Th-thank you," he stuttered, slightly abashed.

Denise herself had gone all out for this gala, intending to get close to Leblanc Pritchard and attempt to glean any useful information from the rich and powerful man. She was wearing a long, slinky red dress with a plunging neckline, diamond earrings and necklace to match, red high heels and long black gloves. A white fur stole was draped around her shoulders and her trademark swagger did much to catch the eye of every man in the vicinity.

Rocinante thought she looked nice, though his thoughts had begun to delve into impure territory once he'd gotten a good look at what Aylin was wearing. He always thought that she was beautiful, but her wardrobe today was so absolutely stunning that he had to force himself to keep his eyes off her for more than a few seconds. He pulled on his collar, his face heating up once again as he looked ahead and caught a glimpse of her.

She was currently speaking with the man standing at the door of the Pritchard estate, who was looking through a list of names on a clipboard. Aylin put on her best 'bored socialite' impression, casting a look of apathy toward her two companions at the bottom of the marbled glass steps.

While Denise's brightly-colored ensemble appeared to scream for attention, Aylin's dress was a bit more modest, though nonetheless fitting for such a glamorous event. She'd gone with something of the "little black dress" variety; a strapless, espresso-colored number that fell to her mid-thigh and complimented her in all the right ways while still allowing for freedom of movement if need be. She had also swapped her trademark knee-high boots for a pair of classic heels.

Denise, with all her connections, had managed to get the three of them onto the guest list without arising any suspicion at all. In fact, she was friends with several of the other guests in attendance. Aylin couldn't imagine how Denise managed to keep up with so many people, although she surmised the woman's charming personality had much to do with it.

Receiving the nod from the man with the guest list, Aylin turned back to check on her companions just in time to see Denise straightening Rocinante's tie and then giving it a satisfied pat.

"There, darling. Much better." The Curator stepped away from him and swaggered toward the door, looking pleased when the man with the clipboard nodded and allowed her to pass by.

Aylin hung back long enough for Rocinante to catch up, taking note of the unlit cigarette still between his fingers.

"You sure lighting that thing is a good idea in a place like this?" She teased. "And look at all those glass statues. I'm sure a few of them have your name on them."

Rocinante laughed at this, the sound coming out more like a high-pitched giggle as he dropped his cigarette, fumbled for it and then decided to just leave it there lest he actually start a chain reaction of breaking statues. He snuck glances at Aylin, feeling like a shy school boy, though he figured he needed to straighten his act out if they were to pass themselves off as a married couple.

He cleared his throat. "Mrs. Sokolov?"

The tall blond offered her his arm, though upon remembering that she couldn't really reach it he corrected himself and offered her his hand, feeling a surge of warmth as she readily took it in her own. It was all he could do to resist giving it a squeeze; they were playing a part here, after all. No reason to get carried away.

"Uh…um…ah…eh…" He lowered his voice as they followed Denise into the ornate foyer that was practically made of glass itself. "Lin…you…uh…I wanted to say this earlier, but um…" Rocinante's face flushed pink as he pushed the words out. "You look beautiful."

Aylin didn't dare chance a look at him while she felt her own cheeks growing warm, not wanting to belie how affected she was by his compliment. She felt his hand become somewhat sweaty around hers, betraying his nervousness, and although she found it rather endearing she told herself that she shouldn't encourage such things.

"Oh, well...I—"

"Darlings!" Denise interrupted their private chat as she rushed over to hurry them toward a group of people she'd decided to introduce them too.

Denise's acquaintances looked as though they were cut from the same cloth as the people they'd met at the Society meeting. Rocinante and Aylin bullshitted their way through so many introductions with people they couldn't care less about and then went on to endure mind-numbingly dull conversations with some of them. Luckily Denise remembered all their names and why they were important enough to have been invited to the function.

The further the three of them trekked into the house, the taller the ceilings became, and the more glass there was to break. Rocinante felt both relieved and terrified at the same time. His hand finally become so sweaty that Aylin's slipped from his grasp, and he cursed mentally.

"Sorry," he mumbled down to her. "I'm a little nervous…"

Denise didn't seem to notice as she was scanning the room for a particular person. "Ah there he is, our gracious host! Come, come, darlings, time to meet him! Leblanc darling!" She called cheerfully, waving a gloved hand as she swaggered over to a tall, dark-haired individual.

The man in question stood amidst a swarm of admirers, dressed in a solid black suit that was accented by only a steel gray tie. Many of those who gathered about him seemed to have plenty to say to him, although Leblanc himself seemed to respond only with short sentences or gestures. When Denise called out to him, he lazily glanced up and nodded coolly before taking a sip from the elaborate wine glass in his hand, beckoning her forward with his pale eyes.

When she approached him, Leblanc took a few steps toward her and the group around him parted for him as if he were royalty.

"Darling, it's been too long." Denise smiled at the man charmingly, leaning forward to kiss his cheek. "Though I did enjoy our last meeting…" She trailed off with a wink. "I'd like you to meet some friends of mine." She gestured to Rocinante and Aylin who had only been a few steps behind her.

"This is Pietro and Natasha Sokolov. Pietro, Natasha, I'd like to introduce you to Mr. Leblanc Pritchard."

Rocinante thrust his hand forward. "A pleasure, Mr. Pritchard!" Rocinante's hand was still slick with sweat and he hoped that the other man wouldn't notice.

Leblanc's cold stare lingered momentarily on the tall man's outstretched hand before he reached forward to give it a shake. "Pleasure's mine," he responded in a voice somewhat devoid of emotion, a slight frown wrinkling his brow as he drew back. Without breaking eye contact with his guests, he held his hand to the side and one of his servants immediately rushed forward to pat it dry.

Aylin felt her senses bristle at the host's demeanor, though she did her best to betray no such reaction. She nodded back and extended her own hand.

"Spectacular gala. I'm honored to be in attendance," she replied in a tone the reflected nothing but utmost professionalism, though she nearly wavered when Leblanc reached for her hand and slowly brought it to his lips.

"I suppose it'll have to do," he murmured, his eyes boring into hers. After what seemed like an eternity, he drew back. "I hope that you will enjoy yourselves."

Rocinante was relieved when it appeared that they were dismissed. Leblanc stopped paying attention to them and they drifted away to another part of the room while Denise stayed behind to schmooze. She apparently knew the man rather well.

"What an asshole…right?" Rocinante whispered to Aylin.

"You can't expect much else from these kinds of people," she muttered in reply. "Flaunting their wealth and using it to gain status and power. Nothing ever seems enough." She sighed, forcing back a bitter laugh. Now was not the time to get angry. They still had much to do. "Anyway, let's walk around a little..."

The Scout source had been able to give the Inner Circle an exact location for the meeting between the Hive representatives and the mole; specifically, the rooftop after dark. Aylin wasn't sure what it was with seedy folk and rooftops, but she'd negotiated quite a few deals on her share of them. Until that time came, the two of them would attempt to glean as much as possible from the guests in attendance, and judging by the way Denise was practically glued to Leblanc's arm, it looked as though they'd be on their own for the night.

That was fine. Denise's job was not to help them uncover the identity of the mole, but to figure out how to best utilize the information once Rocinante and Aylin had obtained it.

The "married couple" made a couple of passes around the room, stopping to converse with others here and there. Most of them seemed to be business associates of Leblanc's and their plus ones, although several unrelated wealthy figures were in attendance as well. Rocinante had managed to spin a story about having inherited a relative's fortune, which was certainly within the realm of possibility at a gathering such as this, so the tale was well received.

After having to endure a particularly tedious discussion with an actual married couple (who wouldn't stop gushing about their three children and their five vacation homes and that one time at Saboady Archipelago when a Tenryuubito decided not to spit on them for their insolence), Aylin excused herself for a trip to the open bar while muttering something about how her blood alcohol concentration wasn't nearly high enough to continue suffering through such interactions.

Rocinante followed close behind her, managing not to trip and make a fool of himself. He thought the only thing really missing from this scenario was him wearing a fake mustache, and he nearly choked on his own spit when the thought made him gasp with laughter. He quickly covered it up with a silk handkerchief as Aylin ordered several hard drinks for herself.

Rocinante ordered something with a name he liked that turned out to be a tall pink concoction topped with whipped cream and cherries.

"Lin, you should've gotten one of these!" He said as he sipped it casually, earning a nudge from his 'wife.'

"Pietro, didn't I ask you not to use my pet name in public?" She raised an eyebrow at him over her martini glass, taking a sip and then stirring it with the olive-laden toothpick.

"So sorry, my love!" Rocinante turned on the charm, leaning closer to her as he placed a large hand gently on her waist. "The sight of you in that dress is so ravishing that I just can't seem to help myself." A pink flush lit up his cheeks as his eyes bored down into hers.

Aylin turned her head away, glancing up at him from the corner of her eye while she stuck the toothpick into her mouth. "Behave yourself, dear," she replied as she scraped the olive off with her teeth. She couldn't ignore the small—and likely inappropriate—sense of satisfaction that welled up within her at the fact that he couldn't seem to look at her without turning colors.

The same could be said of her, though, and she realized it when she allowed herself another good look at him. She had to admit, he cleaned up quite well. The suit he wore had been tailored to fit his large form and it did so perfectly; she'd noticed how his jacket accentuated his broad chest and shoulders, and a couple of times caught herself admiring the way his black slacks complimented his long legs.

It was almost unfortunate how handsome he looked. It only made that resolve of hers all the more difficult to maintain.

She held the glass to her lips once more, tipping the entire thing down her throat and trying to pretend the flush in her cheeks was due to the alcohol.

"Let me get you another drink, my love." Rocinante took the empty glass from her carefully, noticing how intricate it was—much like every other glass item they'd seen within the mansion—and headed back over to the bar.

It didn't take him long, only a few strides at his height, but halfway there he felt something bump his leg. He nearly lost his balance, wobbling comically and flailing his arms while desperately trying to remain upright.

A nasally voice stuttered from down near his knees and he felt a small tug on his pants. "OH MY, OH MY! I'm so sorry, s-so very sorry, sir!"

Rocinante looked down to see a short bespectacled man who looked quite like the human equivalent of an owl. The man adjusted the round lenses of his glasses, which had become askew on his face, as he dusted Rocinante's pants near frantically. A leather-bound portfolio was tucked under the man's arms.

"M-my apologies!" The man uttered additional apologies and began bowing to him repeatedly.

"Oh! No, no, it's fine. It's no big deal, I'm just clumsy. I'm sorry I didn't see you down there…" Rocinante rubbed the back of his head somewhat abashedly.

The man waved his hand in front of his face in frantic dismissal, as if it were unthinkable for a guest to have done anything wrong. "Oh no, sir, the fault is entirely mine. It's inexcusable." He bowed an additional two times. "I should have been more careful. I was in too much of a hurry. Leblanc-san does often tell me to slow down…" He clutched the portfolio just a bit tighter, a detail that Rocinante did not miss.

"Oh! Do you know him well? I'm uh…R—Pietro Sokolov! A pleasure, Mister…?" He reached down to shake the smaller man's hand, having to bend over to do so.

"Oh, ah, um…I'm Pierrepont. I work with Leblanc-san." The man took Rocinante's hand awkwardly, not able to wrap his exponentially smaller one around Rocinante's massive one and shook it rather weakly.

Meanwhile, Aylin, who had witnessed the incident from the table, had stood up and made her way over to investigate. "Pietro, is everything alright?" She quirked an eyebrow at the man who was about a third of Rocinante's height; they looked awfully silly shaking hands.

"Natasha my love! Everything's fine. I was just talking to a colleague of our gracious host! This is Pierrepont. Pierrepont, my wife Natasha." Rocinante glowed as he said the words 'my wife' and placed his hand on her bare shoulder.

"A pleasure." The man bowed several more times, still clutching tightly at the portfolio. "I don't mean to be rude, but I was on my way to see Leblanc-san about a rather urgent matter that's come up." He bowed three more times, then reached up and adjusted his glasses. "I hope the two of you enjoy the rest of your evening!" With a final bow the man turned slightly and rushed off, his feet moving in tiny steps that were swift at the same time.

A single piece of paper fluttered in the wake of his departure, crisp and white with black handwriting scrawled over it. Rocinante bent to retrieve it, looking quizzically after his partner.

"Um…normally I'd go return this to him but…" He locked eyes with her, a silent signal that they needed to find a place without prying eyes to read the paper.

Aylin immediately understood. A second later, she was purposely bumping into him and causing his glass of half-full alcoholic beverage to splash all over his jacket.

"Oh, no!" She gasped loudly and took a step forward, grasping the black material and acting as though she were examining it in horror. "Not your Bellincioni original suit! It's your best one!" She discreetly took the piece of paper from his hand and slipped it into his jacket.

"Dear me!" Remarked a woman nearby who had seen the spill take place. She shook her head sympathetically. "Those stains can be troublesome! I would go and wash that immediately if I were you! The washroom is right down that hall, second door on the left. Although if you prefer, one of Leblanc-san's servants should be able to take care of it for you."

Aylin gave her a nod. "Yes, thank you. I think we'll just head for the washroom." She grasped Rocinante's hand and began to lead him into the hall. "Come on, honey, let's go get this cleaned up!"

"Yes, my darling!" Foolish grin on his face, he let her lead him away from all prying eyes.

Aylin purposely passed the washroom that the woman had described and instead, a bit further down the hall, found a small alcove with settees in a semi-circle.

Rocinante perched on one of them, peeling off his alcohol soaked jacket as Aylin smoothed out the rogue paper on the coffee table that was between the settees.

"Ah man, it went through my shirt too." He pointed at the large pink stain. "Denise is going to be pissed…" He unbuttoned his shirt and removed that as well, laying it across the back of his seat to dry.

"Hey, can you—" Aylin looked up from the paper, catching sight of him and nearly forgetting what she was going to ask. "Er...the, uh...your little trick...?"

"Hm? OH! Right… Silent." He snapped his fingers and the barrier surrounded them, invisible to the eyes of anyone who might happen to pass by. The sounds of the party down the hall disappeared and there was only the two of them.

"Okay," she said as her eyes fixed onto the paper again, scanning it briefly. "It...looks like a letter. Or part of one, anyway..." She continued to read, curiosity welling up within her. They had plenty of time until the rendezvous on the roof; might as well see what they can dig up on Leblanc in the meantime.

Rocinante stood up, stretching a bit before walking over to where Aylin sat so he could see what was on the paper. He immediately slipped and fell, falling across her lap, his legs hanging down.

"Ow…gosh, I'm sorry! Man I'm really glad I didn't break this table…it's so nice…" He reached out a hand and traced one of the designs etched in the glass.

"Something...tells me he wouldn't go bankrupt replacing it," Aylin managed to reply, somewhat frozen in her seat while he clumsily attempted to get his feet under him again and accidentally knocked another chair over in the process. Her hands grasped his arm in an attempt to help him up. "Come on, up we go...are you okay? What did you trip over?" She busied herself with looking at the floor for whatever it might have been, anything to keep from raking her eyes over his well-defined abdominal muscles.

Rocinante sat down gingerly beside her, throwing an arm over the back of the seat. "Um…I think I tripped over my own feet." He coughed and looked away "SO! What kind of secrets did we get? I can't to find out!"

Aylin held the paper where both of them could easily read it and skimmed the page quickly, noticing that it was in two different sets of handwriting. "Looks like it's personal..."

Her eyes reached the bottom of the page to a sentence that started with 'Your father and I...' She quickly turned the page over for more, but it was blank, only a fragment of the full document.

"Wow." Rocinante's eyes were wide after what he read. "This is really sad, Lin. He bankrupted his own parents…"

Aylin hummed in agreement, taking one last glance at the written plea from Leblanc's parents to stop his efforts in snuffing out their company. "I had the feeling he was a cold bastard, but this goes far beyond simple cruelty. This is...had to be premeditated...something he's worked long and hard to accomplish. You can't do this sort of thing overnight." She shook her head. "I'd bet you anything in the world that he's involved with the Hive. Why else would one of their representatives choose his estate to meet up with our mole?"

Rocinante agreed. "You saw how he acted, he obviously has some kind of superiority complex…some people are just born believing they're better than everyone else…" He clenched his fist tightly, remember the words of his brother long ago. Sadly, destroying your own family from the inside out was not uncommon in this world.

He shifted in his seat, willing the thoughts of his brother to subside. He didn't want to go back into that party full of snooty rich people; nobles trying to be like one of the Tenryuubito, lavishing themselves with superfluous clothing, homes, and possessions while there were millions of people throughout the rest of the world who had to eat out of the garbage.

Rocinante's brow wrinkled and he sighed heavily, leaning back in his seat, his weight shifting the furniture backwards. Aylin picked up in the change in his demeanor and decided it would be best not to pursue the topic further. She sighed, her eyes traveling toward the open doorway, not looking forward to returning to the festivities either.

"I hate to say it, but we should probably go back...people are either going to think that we're up to something, or that we're, uh..." Her cheeks burned bright red as the sudden thought entered her mind before she could banish it. They were undercover as a married couple, after all...it wasn't exactly the most farfetched conclusion that one might arrive at.

"Hm?" Rocinante broke out of his contemplative state to look down at his partner. "That we're 'uhh'...?" He thought about this for a moment before arriving at the appropriate conclusion and his cheeks lit up to match hers. "Ehehehe…how scandalous!" He moved over to the settee where he'd placed his soiled garments and groaned in dismay. "I guess that means I actually have to rinse these out, then…"

After an additional ten minutes or so, the two of them rejoined the party. As Aylin had predicted, their return garnered grins of approval from some and sneers of disdain from those who'd noticed their sudden and extended departure.

Snobs.

Rocinante scanned the room for Denise, finding her still with their host, practically attached at the hip at this point. They were sitting down in a corner of the room that looked like it was some kind of mock up throne for the man to sit on. The seat was made entirely of glass, as ornate as anything else in the mansion, and Denise was slowly working her way into his lap.

Leblanc seemed to smile genuinely at the woman as Rocinante studied them. She was naturally charming and she kept topping off his glass from several bottles on the table in front of them. Rocinante idly wondered if Denise were trying to seduce the man. He didn't know anything about her personal life, even though they'd worked together for a while now, but he figured this tactic was more for the sake of business than pleasure.

The evening progressed in much the same way that it had begun, save for the occasional giggle and whisper and the incessant questions regarding the relationship between "Pietro" and "Natasha." Some of the guests peppered them with questions such as where they had met, how long they had been married, how Pietro proposed, how many children they were going to have and so on. It became troublesome, however Aylin surmised that a "newlyweds who couldn't keep their hands off each other" front was preferable to people suspecting them of foul play, and so she reluctantly played along.

Finally the sun began to set, signaling that it was time for Rocinante and Aylin to take their places on the rooftop in preparation for the rendezvous. They bid the small crowd around them farewell, citing it was time to go back home and receiving knowing grins and waggling eyebrows in return.

Aylin did her best to ignore their remarks, quickly scanning the room and noting that Denise was in the process of coaxing Leblanc elsewhere, pressed up against him and whispering things into his ear that he seemed rather receptive to. She didn't really want to think about Denise's extracurricular activities, though she supposed if it kept Leblanc distracted, then all the better for the mission.

Accessing the estate's rooftop balcony was surprisingly easy with Rocinante's devil fruit ability, as they managed to slip past the guards unnoticed and scale the wall with relative ease. Once at the top, they took a quick look around for something that could provide suitable cover while they listened in on the meeting to come. Like much of the estate, the balcony's perimeter was decorated with elaborate glass structures which eventually met with the wall of the estate.

"Hey...over here," Aylin called out in a low voice, despite the area being protected by Rocinante's barrier for the moment. She'd discovered a small niche on the side of the roof where the moonlight did not reach; a space between two intricate pillars in which they could both hide. "It might be a little tight," she added with a pointed look at his large frame, "but I think it's our best option."

Rocinante squeezed into the space she'd indicated and gestured for her to join him, smiling at her a bit shyly. The day of pretending hadn't left him unaffected, and he was sure his face still held a healthy flush from all the teasing the guests had given the 'newly married couple.'

"Isn't this romantic, Mrs. Sokolov?" He teased, earning a smack on the arm from his 'wife.' Rocinante moved to get out his cigarettes then realized the rising smoke would be visible and possibly blow their cover. He hadn't had a smoke in some time and was really starting to crave one. He reluctantly tucked the pack back into his jacket as they settled in. It wouldn't be much longer before the mole showed him or herself for the meeting on the roof top.

He nudged Aylin with his shoulder. "Lin, I'm going to deactivate my power now."

She nodded in acknowledgement and seconds later, sounds of twilight filled their ears; crickets chirping, the brisk wind blowing past their ears, night birds calling to each other. They waited quietly for what seemed like ages, crouching in the shadows and keeping alert for any new activity. The air slowly began to chill, although Rocinante was something of a human furnace so Aylin didn't notice the cold much.

He shifted, lowering himself to his knees, their shoulders bumping as he did so. She felt a small amount of sympathy, as the space was quite cramped for someone of his stature and she imagined he must be uncomfortable. Still, it was too risky to change locations now, when someone could show up at any moment.

Then, as if on cue, they heard heavy footsteps on the glass stairway that led up to the balcony, muffled at first but the sounds became more clear as the person approached. Aylin and Rocinante exchanged quick glances and then focused their eyes on what they could see from their position...which was not much, unfortunately, given the large plant that was largely obstructing the view. They were able to see a flash of color from a long jacket as the person passed the top of the stairs and headed toward the center of the balcony.

For a few minutes afterward, nothing happened. The silence was only broken now and then by light scuffling from the stranger as he or she idled while waiting. Rocinante activated a momentary Calm spell on himself to sneeze violently, otherwise nothing of interest occurred. Aylin was beginning to feel her own muscles complain about the way she'd been crouching when finally the both of them perked up at the sound of more footsteps ascending the stairs.

"About time you got here," a male voice called out in a hushed tone.

A female giggle floated by their ears. "My, my, such impatience," she teased in a tone that clearly suggested that she did not care how long he had been waiting.

The man's frown was evident in his reply. "I don't have much time to waste, here. If I'm not back at headquarters soon, people are gonna ask questions. Can we just get on with this?"

"Ah, have it your way, spoilsport. Personally I thought we might have a drink first. In a place like this...it's not often I show up to such luxurious functions." She snickered again, likely receiving a look of disdain from the Syndicate mole. "Alright then, all business eh? Here's the deal. Regarding the rare merch you spoke of...turns out, we are interested in procuring it for a very special client of ours. I've been sent to accept your offer and hammer out the details."

"Good," came the gruff response. "Then you'll want to track the cargo, and be quick about it. The ship is en route from Widow's Peak, and should pass by Raven Rock Cove...so if you're looking for an ambush point, that'd be it."

"Very well. Then we will stage an interception at that location. I trust you will be there to make sure that everything goes smoothly?"
There was no reply, though he must have nodded because a moment later the woman said, "Good."

Rocinante tapped a finger to his chin as the meeting between the mole and the Hive member was drawing to a close. There was something about the mole that he just couldn't put his finger on, the way he spoke, the way he sounded reminded him of someone. But who?

The woman from the Hive spoke up again just now. "I think I'll go have that drink now. The offer's still open if you care to join me."

"Didn't I say earlier I was in a hurry?"

"You're certainly grumpy as ever…" She trailed off, ending her sentence with another giggle. "Well then, I'll see you later." The sounded of her clacking heels faded into the distance.

There was muffled cursing from the gruff man, who waited until her footsteps were out of earshot before heading off himself. He was just about to pass the spot where Rocinante and Aylin were hiding when he tripped on some unseen object.

"Goddammit!" He yelled, probably louder than he intended to as he nearly face-planted, holding his arms out to break his fall with his hands just in time.

As the man got back to his feet, his face was visible momentarily, revealing none other than the Blackburn Syndicate's very own professional grouch.

Maynard.

Alarms went off in Rocinante's head. How long had this been going on? Why Maynard? Why would he do this? What was his motive?

He whipped his head to the side to exchange a flabbergasted look with his partner just as she was leaning in to make a remark.
What immediately followed was the sort of blunder that only Rocinante could achieve. He wildly misjudged their proximity and suddenly his mouth was crashing into hers, their noses pressing together.

It must have lasted only a second, if that. So short-lived that there was barely a thought to be spared. Aylin froze, uttering a muffled gasp of shock, her eyes growing wide as saucers as she felt the warmth of his lips against her own.

She pulled away with a start, bewilderment written all over her face. Her mouth hung ajar as she desperately tried to find the words appropriate for such a situation while all the blood in her body came rushing for her cheeks.

"I...what...?!"

Rocinante covered his mouth, his face flaming as he scrambled out of their cramped hiding place. "O-oh my gosh, Lin, I'm sorry! It was an accident!"

Aylin refused to meet his face, picking herself up and dusting off the front of her dress, determined not to let him see how flustered she was. She began to walk away quickly, albeit a bit shakily, attempting to steer them back on course.

"Come on. We have the location. We need to get there before the Hive does to ensure we're not discovered."

Rocinante jogged after her, catching up in only a couple of strides and placed his hand on her shoulder gently. "I…I really am sorry. I'd never do that without your permission, Lin…" His voice sounded pained.

"It's fine. It was just an accident." She brushed his hand off her shoulder as gently as she could manage. "Really, let's go. We don't have any time to waste. It seems like Denise is going to be staying here the night anyway…" She made a disgusted noise in the back of her throat at the thought of the Curator's antics. "We'll come back for her later."

Rocinante was terrified that Aylin was mad at him and just trying to hold it in by being distant. But he didn't want to press her so he just nodded. "Okay…let's go. Be careful though, those heels don't look very comfortable to run in."

Aylin chuckled darkly. Her footwear was the very last thing on her mind at that moment.