[ when emma first became an agent, she'd thought she'd come out the other side with a great partner: someone she'd bond with, come to rely on, and trust implicitly. the sort of partnership that might even span her career and determine the course of her missions, there to account for her own failings and create a truly impressive team.
what she ended up with was a mouthy, arrogant, royal pain in her ass, who's way too cocky for his own good.
if emma had a dollar for the number of times in an hour that she rolled her eyes at faraday, she'd be able to retire (and what a reprieve that would be). when first assigned, she'd even put in for another partner after their intial field test together, only to be told to suck it up and make it work. no amount of finagling or otherwise could change the agency's mind, and ever since, emma's been learning to work with faraday.
probably the most frustrating thing about it is that he's actually good. he's not a bad agent, by any means, and is, in fact, incredibly impressive. it's just that damn attitude of his that puts emma off so badly, and if she could slap a strip of duct tape over his mouth, oh, she wouldn't hesitate some days.
but still, the way they move through their work together soon becomes a well-oiled machine, and their assignments keep popping up left and right, only to be handled with grace and efficiency. he balances out her weaknesses, and she his, easily making up for their own failings to the point that they do become an admirable team. she's just come to accept that as long as she keeps the amount of time she has to spend with him to a purely professional setting, she can handle it. he's not the sort of man she'd see in her downtime, but, then again, emma doesn't often spend her days off with men — or, really, anyone from the agency. she works ungodly hours as an agent, which doesn't lend itself well to outside friendship (and it's not like she could tell other friends what she did for a living), and she effectively sees herself married to the job.
(rumors circulate the agency that she used to be actually married, had a husband and everything, but the story changes nearly every time about what happened to him — and emma certainly never brings it up.)
even less conducive to friendship or romantic entanglements are the missions that easily take weeks to complete. the extended time with faraday is always a little grating for emma, but considering the amount of work they're constantly doing, she figures it balances out well enough. but these undercover missions? these are the real struggle, and the newest one that chisolm has presented them with is going to be one hell of a ride.
"You're got to be kidding me," was all emma could manage when she read the brief, because with this new type of cover, oh, this is going to be a whole new kind of pain.
"Make it convincing," chisolm said, "make it work."
"convincing."
emma's still mentally grumbling over their assignment, over the cover they're expected to keep. acting like they're involved? in front of mass amounts of people? lord help her, this is going to be the most difficult mission she's had to date, she just knows it.
if emma was better at appreciating the fun possibilities of an assignment, she might realize that an opportunity to wear incredibly nice clothes, stay in a fantastic hotel, mingle with the haut monde of society (well, maybe not that part) while attending such a fantastic party could be a pleasant side effect of needing to go undercover for the event. but, really, she's just thinking about all of the time they'll have to spend being a plausible enough couple while engaging with those incredibly rich individuals.
joy of joys.
but it's all necessary, she knows, the easiest and most successful opportunity to uncover one of the biggest international arms deals the agency's seen, even if that does mean they have to put themselves right in the middle of it to dig up all of the names and appropriate evidence. it's the sort of mission she knows she and faraday can handle, but— this added undercover element is throwing her slightly off balance.
with everything set up in their hotel room — surveillance, weapons, emergency supplies — emma is just finishing getting ready for the evening's party. mingling is the name of the game for the evening, making contact with specific individuals, and, above all, trying to figure out where and when the deal will go down (and where all those damn guns are being stored).
emma puts a final pin in her hair before reaching for the tiny thigh holster she plans to keep under her dress for the evening; she can't carry her usual weapons, conscpicuous as they would be, so this will have to do. glancing over at faraday, her expression is all business. ]
It's probably why he's so difficult to work with. He takes risks, makes stupid bets with his life, calculates the odds at a breakneck speed – and even when the odds are only in his favor by the slimmest of margins, he takes his chances and hopes for the best. He's reckless and cocky and far too irreverent and—
And he's damn good at his job, much to his handlers' chagrin.
Pairing him with Emma Cullen had been a strategic choice, as much as a practical one. She tempered the worst of his impulsiveness, forced him to look before he leaped, and was just all around a giant goddamn killjoy – in Faraday's eyes, anyway. (She wasn't the only one to ask for a new partner, after all, but after a few missions together, it became clear that Agent Cullen was the only one who could rein him in.)
After a while, Faraday began to recognize Cullen's skills, recognized that her strategic mind, her laser-guided focus, was an asset. Where he took risks and acted on instinct, Emma was methodical, examined everything on a macro-level, moved forward with a terrifying kind of determination. When she set her mind to something, Faraday learned to either follow in her wake or get bowled over. All things considered, it wasn't a terrible partnership, though they never became what one would consider close. Never became friends.
And that was fine, Faraday supposes. He doesn't have much in the way of friends, anyway. As far as their work went, he trusted her with his life, and he's reasonably sure she trusts him with hers (to an extent), and that's probably good enough.
Probably.
When they received their briefing on their newest mission, Faraday had merely laughed his ass off, while Emma expressed exasperated disbelief. He laughed and laughed and laughed until his sides ached, until Chisolm had turned his gaze on him in that patient sort of way of his, and Faraday had waved a hand to signal, Alright, okay, I'm good now. Go on.
When they left the room, Faraday saw the quiet yet restrained outrage on Emma's face, and it only set him off all over again.
He's reined it in by now, though, resolved to have fun with it even if Cullen won't. He cleans up pretty well, surprisingly, dressed in a dark three-piece suit. His shoulder holsters sit over his waistcoat, his favorite guns resting on either side. For most undercover missions, carrying in weapons would be too dangerous; for this job, nearly every guest is expected to be packing, though not so heavily as to affect their silhouettes.
That would just be tacky.
When Emma addresses him, Faraday is smoothing down his jacket and checking himself over in a full-length mirror, ensuring his pistols don't show too terribly. (They don't.) He responds absently to her question, as he straightens his tie, ]
You're done already? I thought ladies were supposed to take forever getting ready.
[ emma gives him a withering look, one of the usual, "you're really not that funny" glares that she always seems to have in her back pocket when it comes to faraday. her tone doesn't change as she slides up the skirt of her dress, using the delicately placed slit in the fabric to firmly secure the holster to her thigh. easy access to her pistol, when (hopefully "if") she needs it, and, fortunately, it doesn't at all affect the way the dress flows down her hips. ]
Unlike you, I don't have to spend hours preening.
[ like everything else emma does, she'd even been especially efficient getting ready for this party. her updo and makeup are pristine, the dark green dress highlighting her hair color and the curve of her body in the most flattering of ways, with a pair of near-extravagant heels that pulled the entire thing together. it's likely the first opportunity faraday would have had to see her dressed to the nines, but then again, emma's never gotten a good look at faraday in something so formal and, frankly, fetching.
were he anyone else, she might admit that (at least to herself), but agent faraday being, well, faraday, wild horses would have to drag that sort of comment out of emma.
turning expectantly to the other agent, emma scoops up her clutch, crossing her arms over her chest as she indicates their hotel room's door. ]
Can we head downstairs or do you need to admire yourself a little longer?
[ He snorts a little. "Preening," she says, as though looking anything less than their best wouldn't draw unwanted suspicion. He pointedly keeps his attention fixed on the mirror, smoothing down his jacket one last time, though the small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth belies his intention.
He's doing this to annoy her, not because he particularly cares.
When he does finally turn to her, he has that expression on his voice that precedes some smart-ass comment – likely one that he knows Emma hates, except—
Faraday finally gets a good look at how she's dressed, how she looks, and his mouth goes dry. He wastes a few seconds blinking, expression slack, and he silently thinks, Holy shit. It takes a while, but eventually he clears his throat, wrangles his expression into something closer to his usual punchable smirk, and says, ]
Nice dress.
[ He brushes some imagined lint from his sleeve before he offers her the crook of his elbow. ]
Ready if you are— [ And he grins when he adds, ] —darling.
[ emma is far too perceptive to miss the look on his face, the way he just seems positively stunned to see her standing there in that particular dress. usually, emma is dressed for practicality, unless a mission calls for otherwise, but this? this is a special level of extravagant that isn't likely to come around again soon.
it makes her feel just a touch even, like he deserved to have a wrench thrown into his usual cocky attitude for making a show of smoothing out his suit. he'd clearly been doing it to bother her, always trying to get under her skin in small ways, and so leaving him dumbstruck for a moment seemed perfectly validating for emma.
she just raises an eyebrow at him, her tone brusque. ]
Nice suit.
[ not a "thank you" or a real acknowledgment of his reaction, mostly because she figures they don't need to waste the time.
she eyes his proffered arm with something near disdain, but then reaches out to take his forearm lightly. ]
I swear, if you call me that when we're alone, Faraday...
[ she lets the threat hang in the air, but she's obviously more inclined to get down to the party rather than argue with him.. ]
[ Faraday snorts at the warning – because of course he does; of course he would take it with only with a grain of salt. He has no doubt as to the world of hurt she could subject him to (they had undergone the same training, after all), but seeing as how he isn't quite dead yet, nor has she actually maimed him, he's apparently decided to take his chances.
He guides them downstairs without further comment – though he does grin, in that spiteful way that he uses almost exclusively with Emma.
The party itself is being held in one of the hotel's ballrooms – tastefully decorated in pristine whites and deep, warm browns. Neutral territory, apparently; not that everyone in attendance had anything to do with the arms deal, but wheeling and dealing was always at hand at these types of events. Easier to take care of such things where no one could be perceived to have the upper hand.
At the entrance, a guard checks for invitations – some big, burly man in a black suit that just barely covers his massive frame – and Faraday slips theirs from the inside pocket of his jacket (the slip of creamy paper is addressed to "Mr. and Mrs. Brennan"), hands them over without looking. Not nervousness, by any means, but demonstrating an air that informed the guard that Faraday had hardly noticed his presence. The guard notes the snub, only responds with the slightest twitch of his upper lip, and waves the two of them through.
By now, the two of them have been on enough undercover missions to have cultivated a sort of secret language. So when Faraday sniffs slightly as they walk in, scanning the crowd, he says, ]
Not much of a party.
[ which means, "I haven't spotted any of our major players." ]
[ emma is purposefully nonchalant about the way she examines the party at large, glancing across the crowd. a few notable names, she mentally assesses, but she realizes just as quickly that the prominent pieces they're supposed to focus on for the night haven't made an appearance. ]
I think it's still early.
["take a better look around; keep your eyes open."
at this point, it's a matter of scouting out the ballroom, making note of the threats and their locations, easy outs, side rooms that could be of interest, and otherwise. she's already examined the layout of the hotel, memorized the exits and noted the security, but it's different to see it in person, to physically appraise the things she'd seen in files. ]
Bit of a full house, though.
["loads of guards." more than she'd planned for, but she doesn't anticipate it being a problem. they've handled more men than this before, and if things go according to plan (which they never do with faraday), then they won't have to deal with them head-on — the preferred option.
they're going to have to excuse themselves at some point to get a look at the behind-the-scenes aspect of the evening, but before they can do that, they need to find the persons of interest, figure out where they're going. that'll be the biggest problem, but even then, she doesn't anticipate many hiccups.
a server approaches them quickly enough, offering flutes of champagne from a tray. emma takes one for the sake of appearances, though she doesn't intend to drink it. they're here to work, after all, not enjoy the party. ]
[ He hums a quiet agreement when she points out the guards, and he tracks them with brief glances. One there, another there, one standing bored beside the restrooms there. Others scattered throughout, patrolling the ground with purpose in their step, sharpness in their gaze. More than they expected, but not a problem, theoretically.
Theoretically.
Faraday takes a glass as the server passes, barely glancing at him as he wanders by – apparently “Mr. Brennan” was not the type to pay any mind to the help. Unlike Emma, he takes a quick sip (because he’s here to work and enjoy the party). The good stuff, he notes with some approval as the drink hits his palate, but of course it would be at a soiree like this. Not his usual drink of choice (he prefers his drinks much stronger, much cheaper, and in much higher quantities), but it’s nice. If you enjoy that sort of thing.
Another quick glance around, and he matches up the blueprints the two of them had memorized to their physical locations. Exit there, door there, alcove there, dark, suspicious little hallway away from prying eyes there, there, and there. Faraday makes a slow, easy circuit of the room, Emma still on his arm, waiting as the other guests filter in. Fashionably late, presumably, some more than others.
He glances over to the glass in Emma’s hand, notes that it’s still as full as the moment she picked it up, and he puts on a small smile. ]
Not to your liking— [ his smile widens slightly ] —sweetheart?
[ emma doesn't (refuses to) let it bother her that faraday is guiding her around the room, her hand still holding his arm the way a wife ought to.
(the way she used to.)
she hasn't really been out with a man, even in a ruse like this, since her husband's death, and she feels almost out of practice, like remembering to stretch old muscles all over again. it's not too difficult, she decides, though she's also trying to emphasize the aloof manner that faraday's adopted.
her attention is drawn away from the party when faraday speaks, and it takes every ounce of self-control to keep her baleful glare in check. she forces a beatific smile onto her face, but her fingers dig pointedly into his arm. ]
I don't feel like ruining my lipstick quite yet, dear.
[ she inwardly grimaces at the pet name, because it's immediately distasteful when she's looking up at faraday's grinning face.
the lipstick, however, is a good enough excuse for now, though she knows she ought to make the glass look less full, but not immediately after arrival. ]
[ He feels the way she digs in her fingers, thankful that the layers he’s wearing keep her nails from jabbing his skin; his own smile doesn’t fade, but a part of him is endlessly entertained by getting a clear rise out of her – though it doesn’t show on her face. Emma is too skilled for that.
(He wonders if poking at her agitation will have her break character and actually break his nose? Probably best to back off for now, because he thinks chances are pretty high that she would.)
So for now, he slips back into work mode, more firmly into his act, eyes scanning the throng of people. ]
Thought I saw Mr. and Mrs. Walton. You remember them from last Christmas?
[ Mrs. Walton was a shrewd businesswoman, and slightly terrifying, linked to a shipment of explosives in a raid gone nearly awry this past winter. Other agents had been assigned to that job, and word has it that the dealers had been tipped off before officers had swarmed the warehouse. By the time a safe entrance was found, the building had been practically cleaned out – though plenty of armed men had been left behind to secure their escape. The couple had been on the agency’s radar ever since. ]
Mr. Rivera, as well. [ A bigger name, linked to the trafficking of prototype assault rifles. They had all but concrete proof of his involvement in a more recent deal, held a handful of months back. ]
Might be worth it to speak with him. I hear he’s breeding horses, these days.
[ oh, she remembered the cases vividly. she can't help being on edge, surrounded by so many notorious weapons traffickers, a twinge of anger in the back of her mind to see so many people responsible for or at least facilitating so many different kinds of violence that were here, enjoying a party and sipping champagne instead of rotting in jail.
that hardly sits right with her. ]
I could handle Mr. Rivera, if you'd like to mingle with other familiar faces. Maybe catchup a bit.
[ she turns that smile on him again, finally loosening her grip on his arm. he's extra lucky he's got that suit on, because her nails are neatly manicured and sharp to complement the rest of her outfit.
splitting up, at least temporarily, might be convenient, and it could let her get a closer look at those side halls with the steadily rotating guards. if she's close enough to observe, she can figure out the timing as they move between postings, choose the best moment to sneak down one of said hallways.
(...and it would also give her a chance to break away from being pressed so close to faraday. she can tell she's going to need a breather soon if she has to keep up the appearances of doting wife.
"make it work," she reminds herself, however begrudgingly.) ]
[ While he and Emma didn't know each other very well on a personal level, Faraday does know her work ethic, knows the sort of focus that goes in to seeing justice be done. Whatever fire burns in her that guides that determination, Faraday recognizes it as both useful and dangerous.
So when she steps away, he gives a nod, wears that sort of distantly amused look on that face – more "Mr. Brennan" than Faraday. But there's a slight sharpness in his eyes that he directs to her – Faraday speaking, then, and not his character. ]
Don't do anything I wouldn't do.
[ Which is as close as Faraday ever gets to saying be careful. ]
And don't wander too far, either. [ A small, teasing little smile. ] I'd like a few dances before this night is over.
[ she feels far more in her element as soon as she isn't clinging to faraday's arm, and she just tosses him an easy (or at least seemingly so) smile over her shoulder. ]
What kind of party would it be without at least a dance or two?
[ lord save her from actually having to dance with faraday. she hopes he's kidding, playing up the role, and that he won't insist it's good for their cover to participate in some of the aforementioned dancing.
she blows him a quick kiss (and if that doesn't show her dedication to the act and her job, she doesn't know what will), and then she's turning to leave and further explore the party. her attention is focused on rivera, where he stands chatting and laughing with a few of the other attendees, a small ring of men all finely dressed with champagne flutes in hand. her eyes flicker from rivera to the hallway he stands near, watching as the bored-looking guard standing by the entrance checks his watch.
it's not hard for emma to put on her sweetest smile, the most alluring lilt her voice can manage as she approaches rivera, and she's all sugar and charm as she oh-so politely interrupts the men's conversation. they don't seem especially put out to have a beautiful woman's regard, making it almost painfully easy for her to chat them up with the right combination of flirtation and flattery.
not even a challenge, she thinks blandly as she focuses more intently on rivera, but she takes very precise note of the rotation of the guards, how frequently they switch out and change station. it's not hard to discern their pattern, committing it all to memory to report back to faraday. finding the right opportunity to get lost in the crowd, to just slip unnoticed down a momentarily unguarded hall is going to be a whole lot easier than she expected, and she has absolutely no problems with that. ]
[ It’s a convincing act, all things considered (those “things” being Emma’s impatience and outright disdain for Faraday and everything he stands for), and Faraday allows himself the briefest second to flash her a bright, impressed little smile. It seems to say, Touché, Cullen.
When she steps away, he spends a few seconds tracking her progress through the crowd toward Rivera – a quick, visual confirmation that she reaches her destination, of course; not that he’s worried or anything. Once she reaches the little ring of men, he nods to himself before stepping away. While she focuses on Rivera, Faraday wanders the crowd, flitting from one conversation to the next. Despite his usual dealings with Emma, where he tries his level best to be as infuriating as possible, Faraday can actually be charming when he has reason to be, and he turns up the charisma tonight. He quietly invites himself into a conversation, and when he feels he’s received any information he could, he drifts away, ensuring his departures are never awkward; he moves around the room with the grace of a socialite making the usual rounds.
As he wanders, he overhears snippets of conversation, hears names crop up now and again. McKenna. Cole. Lee. Bogue. Alvarez. Names he recognizes from the case files that crossed his desk – rich, successful men who coasted along the edges of these illicit deals but never involved themselves deeply enough for the agency to pin anything on them.
Hopefully that will change, after this assignment is over.
One champagne glass gets emptied, exchanged for another, and this second glass is half-drained by the time he drifts a little closer to Emma and Rivera. Far enough to show he’s still allowing Emma to continue pressing for information, but close enough to signal that he’s ready to discuss his findings when she is. ]
[ rivera is an easy enough target, emma's come to realize, with just a few sweet smiles and indulgent laughs, he's focuses almost entirely on her. it's only after she sees faraday start to drift towards them in the periphery of her vision that she decides she's gathered up everything she needs, and she offers rivera an apologetic smile. ]
I'm sorry to run, but I need to make sure my husband hasn't been getting into any trouble without me.
[ (she inwardly applauds herself for holding any grimace in check at the mention of her "husband.")
rivera just laughs and waves her off with a good-humored smile, and emma drifts away towards faraday. she probably should slide her arm through his again, but she instead sips at her champagne, settling at faraday's side again. ]
Any old friends?
[ she surveys the room with a distant smile, keeping her expression neutral as she glances again towards the dark hall. ]
[ As he waited for Emma to finish up, he had matched the names to faces, scanning the room in easy, idle glances to avoid drawing suspicion. Cole, an older, pudgy man, wandering on the edges, sauntering up to every young, pretty woman he happened to spot. Alvarez, a middle-aged man with dark hair and a well-kept beard, seated at a table and enjoying a heated discussion with a handful of others, including Lee, some gaunt-looking man just approaching his forties. McKenna, a younger woman with her blonde hair impeccably coiffed, making quiet conversation in a far corner, nursing a glass of red wine. Bogue, a thin, balding man, flanked by three personal guards – a display of power most would find tasteless at a party like this, though none would say as much to his face.
Any of them could be involved with the arms deal he and Emma are tracking; hell, all of them could have some hand in it, just as easily as none of them could. Hard to tell, and harder still to discuss it while in a crowded room filled with some of the shadiest folks in the entire world. ]
[ her accent slips a touch as she takes another delicate sip from her champagne, careful not to smudge her lipstick terribly. her eyes follow faraday's as he surveys the heavy hitters in attendance, though her grip tightens almost imperceptively when she sees bogue off with his guards, looking so self-important as he droned on about something or other to another partygoer.
she doesn't say a word about it, forcing her eyes back to the others in the room, before she glances up at faraday again. ]
Though if we were to, say, get a bit lost, the ideal window will be in another three minutes.
[ she says it ever so casually, her voice soft and her expression unfazed. they'll need to slip away soon, because she knows just as well as he does what other dealings will go on in those back rooms, and if they can get a bug inside of them, maybe find something more concrete, they'll be doing their jobs up right. ]
[ That brief break in character is enough to elicit a small, near imperceptible frown from Faraday. Faraday is good at his job (damn good), but there are some aspects that (reluctantly. begrudgingly.) he had to admit Cullen had him beat on. Keeping her eyes on the goal, for instance, and maintaining her cool while the world went to shit around them.
And apparently that calm had slipped, and even as brief as it was, it’s enough to make Faraday start feeling the slightest inklings of concern.
The mask snaps back in place as quickly as it slipped, though, and Faraday files the moment away to discuss later. Now’s not the time, despite how the questions burn in his throat, and he nods mildly at her instruction. Three minutes to bide their time and wander over to the hallway she spotted. Very doable. ]
I wouldn’t mind slipping away. [ While there was always the chance one of the guests could let slip a few choice pieces of information, their best chance at getting any good intel was planting those bugs.
Faraday drains the last of the champagne in his glass, leaving the empty flute with a server as she passes. He could probably have a third (or a fourth. or a seventh.) and not feel it, but he cuts himself off there. He’d prefer not to suffer Emma’s baleful looks for that particular vice. ]
[ emma's attention is on faraday, on the room at large and the mission in front of them, and she refuses to keep looking at bogue, to even acknowledge his presence — lest she lose her focus to a special kind of anger she's kept pinned in place until now.
leaving her half-full flute with another passing server, emma reaches up to smooth a stray piece of hair back behind her ear, her smile carefully in place as she turns her eyes up to faraday. any other occasion, and she would never smile at him like that (in fact, she rarely smiles in her daily life, and wrangling a laugh out of emma cullen is practically a herculean trial, so much so that it's become a joke around the agency). ]
Then should we take a walk?
[ if they time it just right, they won't be noticed even a little, easily lost in the mingling crowd to the sound of laughter and drinking and schmoozing.
she should probably take his hand or his arm like a loving wife would, but she can't quite bring herself to do it, as much as she's trying to "make it work." ]
[ It seems this assignment is revealing new depths to one Emma Cullen, Faraday thinks, though it could all just as easily be an act, some character she's dredged up and will quickly pack away again like a winter coat.
(There's a brief second where he thinks, That's not such a bad smile. And quickly on the heels of that, Wouldn't be too bad to see it more.
And Faraday is quick to set fire to both of those thoughts and stomp on the ashes.)
He returns the smile easily enough, though without any of Emma's artful arrangement. A quick smile, something he slips on as easily as breathing, and he nods his agreement.
The two of them should keep playing to their roles, should act as though they're joined at the hips, but he knows Emma can only be pushed so far before she starts pushing back. For now, he contents himself with leading the way through the assembled guests at a leisurely pace, letting their arms brush against one another in a way that speaks of comfort and familiarity. (He wonders if Emma might slap him for that later. He wonders if she might actually kill him after all is said and done. Faraday makes a mental note to put in a request for time off to Chisolm in order to briefly go into hiding.)
Sure enough, there's a gap in the guards' patrol, and when that gap presents itself, Faraday casually steps into the darkened hall, rounding the corner to hide them from view.
They should get to work while they have this chance, should immediately head to the first of the rooms they've marked out as possible meeting points, but instead, he stops their progress, turning and ducking a little to get into her line of sight. ]
What's going on? [ No preamble. No beating around the bush. A tad brusque, perhaps, and while concern brushes against the back of his mind, his tone is purely professional. He doubts Cullen would appreciate it if he sounded worried, but that slip up, apparently, was still fresh on his mind. ]
[ content to follow faraday down the hall, emma lets him lead the way. she's mentally mapping it out as they go, remembering which rooms in particular they need to bug first, where they need to check in. she's especially good at this part of their fieldwork, because she's all about the planning aspect of missions. she's fine in action, too, but she likes to be prepared, prefers when things follow a set course — which, unfortunately, happens a whole lot less often than she'd like with her partner.
however, when faraday suddenly stops them before the first room, she nearly runs right into him. halting quickly, she turns her eyes up to him in obvious question, and then—
what's going on?
damn it.
she'd thought (hoped) he wouldn't notice her slip, near imperceptible as it would have been to almost anyone else, but given the amount of time they've spent together, the hours dedicated to learning the ways they both operate, she should've been prepared for him to catch on.
emma doesn't manage to keep a small frown off of her face before she forces her expression to smooth into that usual unimpressed look of hers. ]
Nothing that will get in the way tonight.
[ she doesn't want to explain herself to him, not here and not now (probably not ever), and given the constraints on their time, she'd rather push ahead with the mission — and avoid this conversation with faraday. ]
Everything is fine.
[ her voice is firm and unwavering, and she finally steps around faraday to approach the first room, intent on getting a move on.
she doesn't need to tell him about bogue right now, she decides, doesn't need him to know more than he ought to about the circumstances surrounding her history with that despicable man. they're here to find evidence on him (among others), and emma will do her damnedest to claim that victory. ]
[ She brushes past him, and he raises a hand, intent on holding her back, wanting to ask her to lay it all out for him, because there was clearly something wrong, here. Clearly something that had rattled her, and if it happened once, it could happen again, and—
But the moment passes, and he lets her step around him, lets his arm drop to his side. He murmurs, ]
If you say so.
[ though he hardly sounds convinced. He watches her retreating back with a frown for a second or two. Not enough time to suss out what had bothered her. Maybe in the privacy of their hotel room, he could poke her for answers, but not now.
He trails after her after the moment of reflection, glancing over his shoulder every now and again to keep an eye on their backs while she leads the way. As they head to the first room in silence, Faraday, of course, is the one to break it: ]
[ now is hardly the time or the place to talk about this — not even taking into account the fact that emma doesn't think this is any of faraday's business (but it probably should be, if she's honest; anything that affects her affects faraday by extension, and if it will impede her performance, it matters).
but emma won't let it. this is too important for her to get distracted by her emotions, and despite the roiling ball of anger sitting in her chest, she's determined to ignore it.
emma is in the middle of searching for the best places to bug the room when faraday speaks up again, and she goes tense all over, turning her head to look at him with a barely restrained expression of indignation. ]
Agent Faraday, I assure you I'm more than capable of handling this mission.
[ her eyes narrow, and she looks away to return to concealing a near imperceptible microphone. ]
I'm not nearly as compromised as you seem to think I am.
[ The tone she takes with him hardly helps to convince him any more than her previous assurances did, but he knows better than to disagree with her right now, pressed for time as they are. Still, though, the use of his name while they're on the job makes him wince, and he looks over his shoulder from where he's keeping watch. ]
Richard Brennan.
[ The name he's adopted for their assignment, and the one he intends to use while they're still on the clock; the correction comes out sharply, and he looks her over once more before turning back to keep an eye on the hall. All things considered, it was a minor slip-up, and it was just as well that it happened now, rather than while the two of them were mingling in the party. But it was also a rookie mistake, and one liable to get them into hot water, if that name and that title drifted past the wrong ears. ]
[ emma bristles at the correction, but not because he's wrong. it was a slip, something she shouldn't have said when they're not in any kind of safe environment right now — not the place for it. she likes to think she wouldn't have let either out while they were in the wrong company, but still, outside of the comfort of their hotel room, this wasn't the time. ]
It won't.
[ she sounds determined, and the truth is that she's grasping at her usual focus, trying to nail down the way she always handles their missions. the most frustrating thing for her is that she doesn't make these mistakes; small things, certainly, but these are significant enough, compared to how she operates.
shaking away that train of thought, she turns her attention back to the room itself, finishing up with the bugs and running a quick test. everything seems to be in order, and she straightens back up, glancing over her shoulder at faraday. ]
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someone take this au away from me
what she ended up with was a mouthy, arrogant, royal pain in her ass, who's way too cocky for his own good.
if emma had a dollar for the number of times in an hour that she rolled her eyes at faraday, she'd be able to retire (and what a reprieve that would be). when first assigned, she'd even put in for another partner after their intial field test together, only to be told to suck it up and make it work. no amount of finagling or otherwise could change the agency's mind, and ever since, emma's been learning to work with faraday.
probably the most frustrating thing about it is that he's actually good. he's not a bad agent, by any means, and is, in fact, incredibly impressive. it's just that damn attitude of his that puts emma off so badly, and if she could slap a strip of duct tape over his mouth, oh, she wouldn't hesitate some days.
but still, the way they move through their work together soon becomes a well-oiled machine, and their assignments keep popping up left and right, only to be handled with grace and efficiency. he balances out her weaknesses, and she his, easily making up for their own failings to the point that they do become an admirable team. she's just come to accept that as long as she keeps the amount of time she has to spend with him to a purely professional setting, she can handle it. he's not the sort of man she'd see in her downtime, but, then again, emma doesn't often spend her days off with men — or, really, anyone from the agency. she works ungodly hours as an agent, which doesn't lend itself well to outside friendship (and it's not like she could tell other friends what she did for a living), and she effectively sees herself married to the job.
(rumors circulate the agency that she used to be actually married, had a husband and everything, but the story changes nearly every time about what happened to him — and emma certainly never brings it up.)
even less conducive to friendship or romantic entanglements are the missions that easily take weeks to complete. the extended time with faraday is always a little grating for emma, but considering the amount of work they're constantly doing, she figures it balances out well enough. but these undercover missions? these are the real struggle, and the newest one that chisolm has presented them with is going to be one hell of a ride.
"You're got to be kidding me," was all emma could manage when she read the brief, because with this new type of cover, oh, this is going to be a whole new kind of pain.
"Make it convincing," chisolm said, "make it work."
"convincing."
emma's still mentally grumbling over their assignment, over the cover they're expected to keep. acting like they're involved? in front of mass amounts of people? lord help her, this is going to be the most difficult mission she's had to date, she just knows it.
if emma was better at appreciating the fun possibilities of an assignment, she might realize that an opportunity to wear incredibly nice clothes, stay in a fantastic hotel, mingle with the haut monde of society (well, maybe not that part) while attending such a fantastic party could be a pleasant side effect of needing to go undercover for the event. but, really, she's just thinking about all of the time they'll have to spend being a plausible enough couple while engaging with those incredibly rich individuals.
joy of joys.
but it's all necessary, she knows, the easiest and most successful opportunity to uncover one of the biggest international arms deals the agency's seen, even if that does mean they have to put themselves right in the middle of it to dig up all of the names and appropriate evidence. it's the sort of mission she knows she and faraday can handle, but— this added undercover element is throwing her slightly off balance.
with everything set up in their hotel room — surveillance, weapons, emergency supplies — emma is just finishing getting ready for the evening's party. mingling is the name of the game for the evening, making contact with specific individuals, and, above all, trying to figure out where and when the deal will go down (and where all those damn guns are being stored).
emma puts a final pin in her hair before reaching for the tiny thigh holster she plans to keep under her dress for the evening; she can't carry her usual weapons, conscpicuous as they would be, so this will have to do. glancing over at faraday, her expression is all business. ]
Are you nearly ready?
N O P E shoves it back in your hands
It's probably why he's so difficult to work with. He takes risks, makes stupid bets with his life, calculates the odds at a breakneck speed – and even when the odds are only in his favor by the slimmest of margins, he takes his chances and hopes for the best. He's reckless and cocky and far too irreverent and—
And he's damn good at his job, much to his handlers' chagrin.
Pairing him with Emma Cullen had been a strategic choice, as much as a practical one. She tempered the worst of his impulsiveness, forced him to look before he leaped, and was just all around a giant goddamn killjoy – in Faraday's eyes, anyway. (She wasn't the only one to ask for a new partner, after all, but after a few missions together, it became clear that Agent Cullen was the only one who could rein him in.)
After a while, Faraday began to recognize Cullen's skills, recognized that her strategic mind, her laser-guided focus, was an asset. Where he took risks and acted on instinct, Emma was methodical, examined everything on a macro-level, moved forward with a terrifying kind of determination. When she set her mind to something, Faraday learned to either follow in her wake or get bowled over. All things considered, it wasn't a terrible partnership, though they never became what one would consider close. Never became friends.
And that was fine, Faraday supposes. He doesn't have much in the way of friends, anyway. As far as their work went, he trusted her with his life, and he's reasonably sure she trusts him with hers (to an extent), and that's probably good enough.
Probably.
When they received their briefing on their newest mission, Faraday had merely laughed his ass off, while Emma expressed exasperated disbelief. He laughed and laughed and laughed until his sides ached, until Chisolm had turned his gaze on him in that patient sort of way of his, and Faraday had waved a hand to signal, Alright, okay, I'm good now. Go on.
When they left the room, Faraday saw the quiet yet restrained outrage on Emma's face, and it only set him off all over again.
He's reined it in by now, though, resolved to have fun with it even if Cullen won't. He cleans up pretty well, surprisingly, dressed in a dark three-piece suit. His shoulder holsters sit over his waistcoat, his favorite guns resting on either side. For most undercover missions, carrying in weapons would be too dangerous; for this job, nearly every guest is expected to be packing, though not so heavily as to affect their silhouettes.
That would just be tacky.
When Emma addresses him, Faraday is smoothing down his jacket and checking himself over in a full-length mirror, ensuring his pistols don't show too terribly. (They don't.) He responds absently to her question, as he straightens his tie, ]
You're done already? I thought ladies were supposed to take forever getting ready.
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Unlike you, I don't have to spend hours preening.
[ like everything else emma does, she'd even been especially efficient getting ready for this party. her updo and makeup are pristine, the dark green dress highlighting her hair color and the curve of her body in the most flattering of ways, with a pair of near-extravagant heels that pulled the entire thing together. it's likely the first opportunity faraday would have had to see her dressed to the nines, but then again, emma's never gotten a good look at faraday in something so formal and, frankly, fetching.
were he anyone else, she might admit that (at least to herself), but agent faraday being, well, faraday, wild horses would have to drag that sort of comment out of emma.
turning expectantly to the other agent, emma scoops up her clutch, crossing her arms over her chest as she indicates their hotel room's door. ]
Can we head downstairs or do you need to admire yourself a little longer?
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He's doing this to annoy her, not because he particularly cares.
When he does finally turn to her, he has that expression on his voice that precedes some smart-ass comment – likely one that he knows Emma hates, except—
Faraday finally gets a good look at how she's dressed, how she looks, and his mouth goes dry. He wastes a few seconds blinking, expression slack, and he silently thinks, Holy shit. It takes a while, but eventually he clears his throat, wrangles his expression into something closer to his usual punchable smirk, and says, ]
Nice dress.
[ He brushes some imagined lint from his sleeve before he offers her the crook of his elbow. ]
Ready if you are— [ And he grins when he adds, ] —darling.
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it makes her feel just a touch even, like he deserved to have a wrench thrown into his usual cocky attitude for making a show of smoothing out his suit. he'd clearly been doing it to bother her, always trying to get under her skin in small ways, and so leaving him dumbstruck for a moment seemed perfectly validating for emma.
she just raises an eyebrow at him, her tone brusque. ]
Nice suit.
[ not a "thank you" or a real acknowledgment of his reaction, mostly because she figures they don't need to waste the time.
she eyes his proffered arm with something near disdain, but then reaches out to take his forearm lightly. ]
I swear, if you call me that when we're alone, Faraday...
[ she lets the threat hang in the air, but she's obviously more inclined to get down to the party rather than argue with him.. ]
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He guides them downstairs without further comment – though he does grin, in that spiteful way that he uses almost exclusively with Emma.
The party itself is being held in one of the hotel's ballrooms – tastefully decorated in pristine whites and deep, warm browns. Neutral territory, apparently; not that everyone in attendance had anything to do with the arms deal, but wheeling and dealing was always at hand at these types of events. Easier to take care of such things where no one could be perceived to have the upper hand.
At the entrance, a guard checks for invitations – some big, burly man in a black suit that just barely covers his massive frame – and Faraday slips theirs from the inside pocket of his jacket (the slip of creamy paper is addressed to "Mr. and Mrs. Brennan"), hands them over without looking. Not nervousness, by any means, but demonstrating an air that informed the guard that Faraday had hardly noticed his presence. The guard notes the snub, only responds with the slightest twitch of his upper lip, and waves the two of them through.
By now, the two of them have been on enough undercover missions to have cultivated a sort of secret language. So when Faraday sniffs slightly as they walk in, scanning the crowd, he says, ]
Not much of a party.
[ which means, "I haven't spotted any of our major players." ]
What do you think?
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I think it's still early.
[ "take a better look around; keep your eyes open."
at this point, it's a matter of scouting out the ballroom, making note of the threats and their locations, easy outs, side rooms that could be of interest, and otherwise. she's already examined the layout of the hotel, memorized the exits and noted the security, but it's different to see it in person, to physically appraise the things she'd seen in files. ]
Bit of a full house, though.
[ "loads of guards." more than she'd planned for, but she doesn't anticipate it being a problem. they've handled more men than this before, and if things go according to plan (which they never do with faraday), then they won't have to deal with them head-on — the preferred option.
they're going to have to excuse themselves at some point to get a look at the behind-the-scenes aspect of the evening, but before they can do that, they need to find the persons of interest, figure out where they're going. that'll be the biggest problem, but even then, she doesn't anticipate many hiccups.
a server approaches them quickly enough, offering flutes of champagne from a tray. emma takes one for the sake of appearances, though she doesn't intend to drink it. they're here to work, after all, not enjoy the party. ]
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Theoretically.
Faraday takes a glass as the server passes, barely glancing at him as he wanders by – apparently “Mr. Brennan” was not the type to pay any mind to the help. Unlike Emma, he takes a quick sip (because he’s here to work and enjoy the party). The good stuff, he notes with some approval as the drink hits his palate, but of course it would be at a soiree like this. Not his usual drink of choice (he prefers his drinks much stronger, much cheaper, and in much higher quantities), but it’s nice. If you enjoy that sort of thing.
Another quick glance around, and he matches up the blueprints the two of them had memorized to their physical locations. Exit there, door there, alcove there, dark, suspicious little hallway away from prying eyes there, there, and there. Faraday makes a slow, easy circuit of the room, Emma still on his arm, waiting as the other guests filter in. Fashionably late, presumably, some more than others.
He glances over to the glass in Emma’s hand, notes that it’s still as full as the moment she picked it up, and he puts on a small smile. ]
Not to your liking— [ his smile widens slightly ] —sweetheart?
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(the way she used to.)
she hasn't really been out with a man, even in a ruse like this, since her husband's death, and she feels almost out of practice, like remembering to stretch old muscles all over again. it's not too difficult, she decides, though she's also trying to emphasize the aloof manner that faraday's adopted.
her attention is drawn away from the party when faraday speaks, and it takes every ounce of self-control to keep her baleful glare in check. she forces a beatific smile onto her face, but her fingers dig pointedly into his arm. ]
I don't feel like ruining my lipstick quite yet, dear.
[ she inwardly grimaces at the pet name, because it's immediately distasteful when she's looking up at faraday's grinning face.
the lipstick, however, is a good enough excuse for now, though she knows she ought to make the glass look less full, but not immediately after arrival. ]
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(He wonders if poking at her agitation will have her break character and actually break his nose? Probably best to back off for now, because he thinks chances are pretty high that she would.)
So for now, he slips back into work mode, more firmly into his act, eyes scanning the throng of people. ]
Thought I saw Mr. and Mrs. Walton. You remember them from last Christmas?
[ Mrs. Walton was a shrewd businesswoman, and slightly terrifying, linked to a shipment of explosives in a raid gone nearly awry this past winter. Other agents had been assigned to that job, and word has it that the dealers had been tipped off before officers had swarmed the warehouse. By the time a safe entrance was found, the building had been practically cleaned out – though plenty of armed men had been left behind to secure their escape. The couple had been on the agency’s radar ever since. ]
Mr. Rivera, as well. [ A bigger name, linked to the trafficking of prototype assault rifles. They had all but concrete proof of his involvement in a more recent deal, held a handful of months back. ]
Might be worth it to speak with him. I hear he’s breeding horses, these days.
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[ oh, she remembered the cases vividly. she can't help being on edge, surrounded by so many notorious weapons traffickers, a twinge of anger in the back of her mind to see so many people responsible for or at least facilitating so many different kinds of violence that were here, enjoying a party and sipping champagne instead of rotting in jail.
that hardly sits right with her. ]
I could handle Mr. Rivera, if you'd like to mingle with other familiar faces. Maybe catchup a bit.
[ she turns that smile on him again, finally loosening her grip on his arm. he's extra lucky he's got that suit on, because her nails are neatly manicured and sharp to complement the rest of her outfit.
splitting up, at least temporarily, might be convenient, and it could let her get a closer look at those side halls with the steadily rotating guards. if she's close enough to observe, she can figure out the timing as they move between postings, choose the best moment to sneak down one of said hallways.
(...and it would also give her a chance to break away from being pressed so close to faraday. she can tell she's going to need a breather soon if she has to keep up the appearances of doting wife.
"make it work," she reminds herself, however begrudgingly.) ]
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So when she steps away, he gives a nod, wears that sort of distantly amused look on that face – more "Mr. Brennan" than Faraday. But there's a slight sharpness in his eyes that he directs to her – Faraday speaking, then, and not his character. ]
Don't do anything I wouldn't do.
[ Which is as close as Faraday ever gets to saying be careful. ]
And don't wander too far, either. [ A small, teasing little smile. ] I'd like a few dances before this night is over.
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What kind of party would it be without at least a dance or two?
[ lord save her from actually having to dance with faraday. she hopes he's kidding, playing up the role, and that he won't insist it's good for their cover to participate in some of the aforementioned dancing.
she blows him a quick kiss (and if that doesn't show her dedication to the act and her job, she doesn't know what will), and then she's turning to leave and further explore the party. her attention is focused on rivera, where he stands chatting and laughing with a few of the other attendees, a small ring of men all finely dressed with champagne flutes in hand. her eyes flicker from rivera to the hallway he stands near, watching as the bored-looking guard standing by the entrance checks his watch.
it's not hard for emma to put on her sweetest smile, the most alluring lilt her voice can manage as she approaches rivera, and she's all sugar and charm as she oh-so politely interrupts the men's conversation. they don't seem especially put out to have a beautiful woman's regard, making it almost painfully easy for her to chat them up with the right combination of flirtation and flattery.
not even a challenge, she thinks blandly as she focuses more intently on rivera, but she takes very precise note of the rotation of the guards, how frequently they switch out and change station. it's not hard to discern their pattern, committing it all to memory to report back to faraday. finding the right opportunity to get lost in the crowd, to just slip unnoticed down a momentarily unguarded hall is going to be a whole lot easier than she expected, and she has absolutely no problems with that. ]
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When she steps away, he spends a few seconds tracking her progress through the crowd toward Rivera – a quick, visual confirmation that she reaches her destination, of course; not that he’s worried or anything. Once she reaches the little ring of men, he nods to himself before stepping away. While she focuses on Rivera, Faraday wanders the crowd, flitting from one conversation to the next. Despite his usual dealings with Emma, where he tries his level best to be as infuriating as possible, Faraday can actually be charming when he has reason to be, and he turns up the charisma tonight. He quietly invites himself into a conversation, and when he feels he’s received any information he could, he drifts away, ensuring his departures are never awkward; he moves around the room with the grace of a socialite making the usual rounds.
As he wanders, he overhears snippets of conversation, hears names crop up now and again. McKenna. Cole. Lee. Bogue. Alvarez. Names he recognizes from the case files that crossed his desk – rich, successful men who coasted along the edges of these illicit deals but never involved themselves deeply enough for the agency to pin anything on them.
Hopefully that will change, after this assignment is over.
One champagne glass gets emptied, exchanged for another, and this second glass is half-drained by the time he drifts a little closer to Emma and Rivera. Far enough to show he’s still allowing Emma to continue pressing for information, but close enough to signal that he’s ready to discuss his findings when she is. ]
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I'm sorry to run, but I need to make sure my husband hasn't been getting into any trouble without me.
[ (she inwardly applauds herself for holding any grimace in check at the mention of her "husband.")
rivera just laughs and waves her off with a good-humored smile, and emma drifts away towards faraday. she probably should slide her arm through his again, but she instead sips at her champagne, settling at faraday's side again. ]
Any old friends?
[ she surveys the room with a distant smile, keeping her expression neutral as she glances again towards the dark hall. ]
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A few, I think.
[ As he waited for Emma to finish up, he had matched the names to faces, scanning the room in easy, idle glances to avoid drawing suspicion. Cole, an older, pudgy man, wandering on the edges, sauntering up to every young, pretty woman he happened to spot. Alvarez, a middle-aged man with dark hair and a well-kept beard, seated at a table and enjoying a heated discussion with a handful of others, including Lee, some gaunt-looking man just approaching his forties. McKenna, a younger woman with her blonde hair impeccably coiffed, making quiet conversation in a far corner, nursing a glass of red wine. Bogue, a thin, balding man, flanked by three personal guards – a display of power most would find tasteless at a party like this, though none would say as much to his face.
Any of them could be involved with the arms deal he and Emma are tracking; hell, all of them could have some hand in it, just as easily as none of them could. Hard to tell, and harder still to discuss it while in a crowded room filled with some of the shadiest folks in the entire world. ]
And Mr. Rivera? How was he?
no subject
[ her accent slips a touch as she takes another delicate sip from her champagne, careful not to smudge her lipstick terribly. her eyes follow faraday's as he surveys the heavy hitters in attendance, though her grip tightens almost imperceptively when she sees bogue off with his guards, looking so self-important as he droned on about something or other to another partygoer.
she doesn't say a word about it, forcing her eyes back to the others in the room, before she glances up at faraday again. ]
Though if we were to, say, get a bit lost, the ideal window will be in another three minutes.
[ she says it ever so casually, her voice soft and her expression unfazed. they'll need to slip away soon, because she knows just as well as he does what other dealings will go on in those back rooms, and if they can get a bug inside of them, maybe find something more concrete, they'll be doing their jobs up right. ]
no subject
And apparently that calm had slipped, and even as brief as it was, it’s enough to make Faraday start feeling the slightest inklings of concern.
The mask snaps back in place as quickly as it slipped, though, and Faraday files the moment away to discuss later. Now’s not the time, despite how the questions burn in his throat, and he nods mildly at her instruction. Three minutes to bide their time and wander over to the hallway she spotted. Very doable. ]
I wouldn’t mind slipping away. [ While there was always the chance one of the guests could let slip a few choice pieces of information, their best chance at getting any good intel was planting those bugs.
Faraday drains the last of the champagne in his glass, leaving the empty flute with a server as she passes. He could probably have a third (or a fourth. or a seventh.) and not feel it, but he cuts himself off there. He’d prefer not to suffer Emma’s baleful looks for that particular vice. ]
It’s getting a bit crowded in here, anyway.
no subject
leaving her half-full flute with another passing server, emma reaches up to smooth a stray piece of hair back behind her ear, her smile carefully in place as she turns her eyes up to faraday. any other occasion, and she would never smile at him like that (in fact, she rarely smiles in her daily life, and wrangling a laugh out of emma cullen is practically a herculean trial, so much so that it's become a joke around the agency). ]
Then should we take a walk?
[ if they time it just right, they won't be noticed even a little, easily lost in the mingling crowd to the sound of laughter and drinking and schmoozing.
she should probably take his hand or his arm like a loving wife would, but she can't quite bring herself to do it, as much as she's trying to "make it work." ]
no subject
(There's a brief second where he thinks, That's not such a bad smile. And quickly on the heels of that, Wouldn't be too bad to see it more.
And Faraday is quick to set fire to both of those thoughts and stomp on the ashes.)
He returns the smile easily enough, though without any of Emma's artful arrangement. A quick smile, something he slips on as easily as breathing, and he nods his agreement.
The two of them should keep playing to their roles, should act as though they're joined at the hips, but he knows Emma can only be pushed so far before she starts pushing back. For now, he contents himself with leading the way through the assembled guests at a leisurely pace, letting their arms brush against one another in a way that speaks of comfort and familiarity. (He wonders if Emma might slap him for that later. He wonders if she might actually kill him after all is said and done. Faraday makes a mental note to put in a request for time off to Chisolm in order to briefly go into hiding.)
Sure enough, there's a gap in the guards' patrol, and when that gap presents itself, Faraday casually steps into the darkened hall, rounding the corner to hide them from view.
They should get to work while they have this chance, should immediately head to the first of the rooms they've marked out as possible meeting points, but instead, he stops their progress, turning and ducking a little to get into her line of sight. ]
What's going on? [ No preamble. No beating around the bush. A tad brusque, perhaps, and while concern brushes against the back of his mind, his tone is purely professional. He doubts Cullen would appreciate it if he sounded worried, but that slip up, apparently, was still fresh on his mind. ]
no subject
however, when faraday suddenly stops them before the first room, she nearly runs right into him. halting quickly, she turns her eyes up to him in obvious question, and then—
what's going on?
damn it.
she'd thought (hoped) he wouldn't notice her slip, near imperceptible as it would have been to almost anyone else, but given the amount of time they've spent together, the hours dedicated to learning the ways they both operate, she should've been prepared for him to catch on.
emma doesn't manage to keep a small frown off of her face before she forces her expression to smooth into that usual unimpressed look of hers. ]
Nothing that will get in the way tonight.
[ she doesn't want to explain herself to him, not here and not now (probably not ever), and given the constraints on their time, she'd rather push ahead with the mission — and avoid this conversation with faraday. ]
Everything is fine.
[ her voice is firm and unwavering, and she finally steps around faraday to approach the first room, intent on getting a move on.
she doesn't need to tell him about bogue right now, she decides, doesn't need him to know more than he ought to about the circumstances surrounding her history with that despicable man. they're here to find evidence on him (among others), and emma will do her damnedest to claim that victory. ]
no subject
But the moment passes, and he lets her step around him, lets his arm drop to his side. He murmurs, ]
If you say so.
[ though he hardly sounds convinced. He watches her retreating back with a frown for a second or two. Not enough time to suss out what had bothered her. Maybe in the privacy of their hotel room, he could poke her for answers, but not now.
He trails after her after the moment of reflection, glancing over his shoulder every now and again to keep an eye on their backs while she leads the way. As they head to the first room in silence, Faraday, of course, is the one to break it: ]
Listen. If you need me to take point on this...
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but emma won't let it. this is too important for her to get distracted by her emotions, and despite the roiling ball of anger sitting in her chest, she's determined to ignore it.
emma is in the middle of searching for the best places to bug the room when faraday speaks up again, and she goes tense all over, turning her head to look at him with a barely restrained expression of indignation. ]
Agent Faraday, I assure you I'm more than capable of handling this mission.
[ her eyes narrow, and she looks away to return to concealing a near imperceptible microphone. ]
I'm not nearly as compromised as you seem to think I am.
no subject
Richard Brennan.
[ The name he's adopted for their assignment, and the one he intends to use while they're still on the clock; the correction comes out sharply, and he looks her over once more before turning back to keep an eye on the hall. All things considered, it was a minor slip-up, and it was just as well that it happened now, rather than while the two of them were mingling in the party. But it was also a rookie mistake, and one liable to get them into hot water, if that name and that title drifted past the wrong ears. ]
Don't let that happen again.
no subject
It won't.
[ she sounds determined, and the truth is that she's grasping at her usual focus, trying to nail down the way she always handles their missions. the most frustrating thing for her is that she doesn't make these mistakes; small things, certainly, but these are significant enough, compared to how she operates.
shaking away that train of thought, she turns her attention back to the room itself, finishing up with the bugs and running a quick test. everything seems to be in order, and she straightens back up, glancing over her shoulder at faraday. ]
Finished here. Can we move on?
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