"Why do you look so surprised?"
Bucky gazes at me with a frown as he adjusts his jacket cuffs at the bottom of the stairs.
"To be honest I… I didn't think you had formal clothing." I reply sheepishly, feeling slightly embarrassed.
He brushes off my ignorance with a curt shake of the head.
"There's more than one place to take out a target." He crosses the floor, doing up the buttons on the front of his jacket. Damn, though. He really does clean up well. In a suit and tie, you'd never take him for an assassin at first glance.
"Riley's not a target, so I don't need to remind you not to bring any weapons." I frown, meeting his gaze.
He hesitates, and it looks like he's about to argue, but he doesn't. Instead, he reaches into his jacket and pulls out a handgun, setting it on the kitchen counter.
"That's all you've got?" I look at it skeptically.
Another gun materializes from his waistband. I raise an eyebrow at him, and he rolls his eyes, raising his hands in mock defeat.
"That's all." He scowls, "Do you want me to take off my arm too?"
"That's fine, thanks. I think I've disarmed you sufficiently." I smile back, and his expression softens.
He looks me up and down for the first time, and I silently wait for a comment. It's just a simple evening dress, nothing extravagant.
"Are you sure you don't want to carry a gun in your purse—"
Oh my god.
"Bucky, no. We'll be fine." I fight back a sigh as I turn to the door, but the smile still tugs at my lips. You expect a man to make a comment about your looks when you've dressed up for the evening, but leave it to Bucky to worry about going somewhere unarmed.
When we arrive at the restaurant, I pay little attention to the lack of patrons entering, or the fact that it's quiet in the main hall. There's classical music playing softly in the background, but there's no clinking of glasses, no quiet chatter. The hostess leads us into the dining room. All the tables are empty, save for one in the center where Riley is already waiting for us.
He stands when he sees us come in, a warm smile spreading across his face.
"You look gorgeous, Elise. I always love the simple, understated look on women."
I flush at his compliment, managing only a polite thank you in response.
"Did you two arrive together?" He looks between us, his smile never faltering. It's an innocent enough question, and I sense no enmity in his voice. Just curiosity.
"Yeah, I drove us." I reply, glancing at Bucky. His expression is sober, his eyes glued to Riley even as he pulls out my chair for me. If the atmosphere weren't so awkward right now, I'd be delighted at the gesture.
"I see… I don't mean to be forward, but are you…" Riley's voice trails off, one eyebrow raised slightly at me.
"Are we…. Oh! No. We're not—" I fluster at the suggestion, "We're just friends."
Riley smiles, making no further comment on the topic.
I practically feel Bucky bristle beside me, but I didn't lie.
He has yet to make his intentions clear. I said he didn't have to make up his mind overnight, but that doesn't mean I'm going to pretend we're something we're not.
A waiter approaches the table with a drink menu, and I politely decline, as does Bucky. Riley is the only one to request a glass of white wine.
I idly smooth down my dress, glancing around the restaurant. It's a decently sized dining room, lit by a few extravagant chandeliers and centerpiece candles on each table.
"Is it usually this empty?"
"Not at all. It's fairly popular on Friday nights. Fortunately my boss is a very wealthy and well-connected man." Riley replies, gesturing to the menus, "Feel free to order whatever you please."
"Your boss… at Cambridge?" I raise an eyebrow. Lavish dinners don't seem like an appropriate use of research funds.
"Elise, you should know better than most that I'm talking about private-sector sponsors." Riley smiles, opening his own menu.
Something isn't adding up here.
"So… the corporation sponsoring your current work reserved this very popular restaurant, months in advance, in anticipation of your visit. Is that right?" I stare back at him.
"Yes? I'm here for the Neuroxchange conference, after all." He gives me a look that suggests I'm asking stupid questions.
Except… you're not here for the conference. Not according to Nikolav, anyway.
"I'd like to hear more about that, if you don't mind." I smile, closing my menu.
"Dinner before business, my dear." He shakes a finger at me, a smirk playing on his lips.
A waiter is promptly at our table to take our orders, and it's only then that we hear Bucky's voice again. He's been so silent that his presence has been more like a chaperone than a second guest.
Riley watches him with interest, swirling the wine in his glass absentmindedly.
"So, James. Nikolav tells me you're a writer. He said you write… what was it? German mystery novels?"
I bite my lip to force back the smile that threatens to appear on my face. Dr. Nikolav's lies are… creative, to say the least.
"I am," Bucky replies flatly.
"Oh? Working on any books right now?" Riley's eyebrows arch with interest, and I shift in my seat, desperately trying to hide my amusement.
"Actually, yes. It's called Kümmere dich um deinen eigenen verdammten Kram." Bucky's smile falters, threatening to expose his underlying resentment.
Riley doesn't seem to notice.
"Interesting." He muses, "I don't know any German, unfortunately. I do wish you luck, though."
I don't know any German either, and I'm extremely grateful that he doesn't. I have a feeling that whatever Bucky just said was more akin to an insult than a novel title.
The waiter brings us our main meals just as Riley turns his attention to me, dazzling me with a smile that suggests he's back to ignoring the man beside me.
"I heard you landed a position with Shield last year, before the fallout."
Great. Because I'm dying to talk about that over a hot meal.
"It was just a small-time research assistant gig." I shrug, picking up my fork. Maybe I'll get a bite in before I completely lose my appetite.
"Don't be so modest. Alexander Pierce wouldn't personally invite a mere RA to join his team." He waves off my comment, taking a sip of his drink.
"How did you know it was Alexander Pierce?" A sense of unease settles in my stomach.
That project was classified. Even I didn't know who I'd be working under until I showed up on the first day—not until Alexander Pierce walked into the room himself after my interview with Michael. Not until I'd signed practically twenty pages worth of non-disclosure agreements.
"Well, you know how it was after Shield fell. A lot of information leaked to the web. You really think the scientific community doesn't know who was involved in Shield's research projects?" Riley looks completely unfazed by my question.
Fair point. I've never looked into how much information got out after the Shield leak, or how that might affect my chances at future employment.
"Does… does everyone know?"
"I'm afraid so. It'd be hard to find a new position at any institution without drawing attention to your previous employment—even though it certainly wasn't your fault that you got caught up in the mess."
Wordlessly, Bucky pours himself a glass of water. I glance at him, but aside from his clenched jaw I see no indication that he's interested in this conversation.
"That's actually part of… Rather, most of the reason for my visit." Riley's voice draws my attention back to him. I give him a questioning look, and he smiles.
"I was hoping to convince you to come back to England with me."
Bucky chokes on his water at this point. Though he tries to subdue his coughing for the next 15 seconds, he eventually gives up and excuses himself from the table.
I feel uncomfortable in his absence. Vulnerable. Like I've forgotten how to function in a social situation with a man who is not Bucky or Dr. Nikolav.
"He seemed very surprised." Riley comments, chuckling a little.
"So am I." I reply, glancing at my plate. There goes every ounce of appetite I had.
"I didn't get a chance to explain, Elise." He reaches across the table, placing a hand on mine. It's a gesture Rumlow favoured, and I instinctively want to withdraw. Instead, I'm forced to look into his grey eyes.
"We have an opening at my lab. You saw my latest research… we could use your expertise on motor neurons. Our latest projects involve… interesting applications for military use. There's a lot of money involved." He smiles, "but I don't need to convince you of that, do I? This expensive reservation is just the tip of the iceberg."
"Riley, I'm not interested in any work that involves weapons, or the military, or people getting hurt because of my research." I pull my hand away, frowning.
"Think beyond that, Elise. You're an intelligent woman, you know the kind of benefits that could trickle down to the public from this."
"I can't." I shake my head, "I don't want to leave DC."
He pauses for a moment, his gaze flickering to Bucky's empty seat.
"Don't want? Or can't?" He raises a critical eyebrow at me. What does he mean by that?
"We may not be dating, but I don't abandon friends." I reply.
"Well, he could possibly come along. His prosthetic hand is fascinating. I'd love to know—"
"He is not a research subject." I scowl. He smirks, leaning back in his seat like he's lost an argument.
"You have a strong sense of loyalty, huh? You really are an attractive woman, Elise. I wish I'd noticed it sooner. My boss clearly did."
That last line feels vaguely threatening, and if it weren't for Bucky's prompt return to the table, I'd probably excuse myself too. He stands behind my chair, leaning down to whisper in my ear.
"We're leaving."
I ask no questions, collecting my purse from the table without a word.
"Not staying for dessert? I was just considering asking my boss to join us for the final course." Riley checks his watch.
"No thanks. But do enlighten me, Riley, you didn't come to DC for a conference. So who is your boss?" I eye him carefully.
"Just a man with deep pockets and an interest in making the world a better place." He explains, "One who asked me to check up on a mutual acquaintance of ours. I'll be pleased to report to Mr. Rumlow that you're doing well."
Rumlow. I expected it to be someone from Shield or Hydra; I'd even considered the possibility that Pierce might be alive. I never expected Rumlow to be Riley's 'private sector sponsor'.
"You may want to let James know that assassinating me with that butter knife would be a poor move, given my highly-regarded presence in the scientific community." Riley smiles serenely at me, and I glance down to see Bucky's fist clenched around the silver knife.
"Leave it." I murmur to him, "Let's just go."
There was a specific reason Rumlow picked Riley for this. He chose someone I know, but not someone too close. Someone he could manipulate with money and promises, someone too well-perceived in the public eye to be assassinated without questions being raised.
Damn it.
"Tell Rumlow to leave me alone, and don't you dare show your face around me again." I glare at Riley as I stand, not bothering to tuck my chair in.
"Oh, I'm sure you'll be hearing from him personally at some point." He shrugs, the smile never disappearing from his face.
Like hell I will.