INTELLIGENCE.

E. E. Ford ★ Director of the CIA

[ash-blythee]

Spooky. Val can hear the threat insinuated, but the voice is more importantly... deep, and interesting. Hot. And already suspicious of Val. Which makes it even more exciting.

The author raises one hand in defeat, the other still on their cane. "Val Dupont, love. An' I promise I can't see ya, so whatever was goin' on..." Irish accent rolls off a skilled tongue and curls are brushed back again. The spy who's not technically trying to be a spy tonight is wearing clothes one might see adorned by patrons of your favorite indie book store - pendants and rings, flowy linen on a lithe body that's a touch low on a pale chest. "I must've gone t'the wrong room. This isn't 207, is it? Christ, sorry. The Braille on the walls is really faded. Can't even tell if it says a number or a command. Shit, I feel awful."

[dcydevils]

Val Dupont... It didn't sound like a real name, but Elias saved it for later. Even cover-ups have some truth behind them...

He blinked and considered braille. Paper wasn't the same as metal, and there was one specific material of which the room plaques are made out of. It didn't track...

Elias paused as he looked down at his gun. "Then you can feel 'awful' outside my damn room, Mr Dupont."

"The other option is cutting the crap and telling me what you are really here for."

[ash-blythee]

Location: Borderline Hotel - Hallway Status: Closed ( @dcydevils - Elias )

The sounds of Borderline are always more interesting at night. During the day, Val will hear the boring suitcases rolling down thin carpeting, a few business calls being taken as someone walks briskly to the elevator. Squeaky, clean shoes, from the sound of it. But it's mostly quiet. But at night there's always something unique. Something dragging. Hushed mouths loosened from liquor, whispering about a new initiative. An objective. A secret.

When Val doesn't have an active person to tail, they like to just get a room and see what happens. Tonight they walk with their red-tipped cane down the second floor hallway. Room 207 has been their assigned space, and long fingers run along the wall to feel the muted Braille. So perhaps they know that the room they end up at is actually room 208. But... they can't help pushing on the door handle anyways. And it swings open, which Val does not expect. If anything, they'd hoped someone might pop their head out, hearing the jostling of the handle and maybe Val could've struck up a little conversation. Instead, they stumble in a bit and hear something. Someone. Oops.

"Oh, christ- so sorry, love! Er, loves! Whoever's in here- promise I can't see anythin' though!" They laugh in embarrassment, waving a hand in front of beautiful pale blue but vacant eyes. "Must've gotten the wrong room." Curly dark hair is bouncing from the movement and Val's hand holds the wall. "Hope I didn't walk in on anything indecent." Partially a lie.

[dcydevils]

He did think those locks looked flimsy.

You're overthinking, Ford, his colleagues would say. You're always overthinking. As the door swings open and someone is standing there, he wishes he could see their faces. Not overthinking. Thinking just enough.

"Name, and what the hell you think you're doing in my room." If they really can't see a thing, then surely the gun Elias has close to his hip and pointed at the stranger won't be a problem. "I suggest you keep it brief."

It's their lucky day. Usually, Elias is a shoot first, ask questions later kinda guy.

[gemmaismss]

[ the met steps, gemma in her gossip girl era, open to all ! ]

The late September sun lights golden across her cheeks as Gemma lounges across the steps of the Met. The start of autumn means, naturally, she becomes even more haunted than usual, and Gemma leans into it. She still dresses in light, floaty colors but strictly reads gothic literature. Today, it is Rebecca, one of her favorites, and she imagines solitude. It is not real, of course, because this is New York City and there are millions of people here, of which quite a few were also on these very steps. Beyond this very obvious fact, she knows her driver/bodyguard is close by – how annoying. Still, a girl can dream.

This dream is soon shattered, tragically, by the arrival of another who so rudely manages to knock over Gemma’s quad espresso ( don’t ask ). She gasps in horror, staring up at them with utter disdain. “Do you fucking mind? This is a giant staircase, walk literally anywhere else!”

[dcydevils]

Fucking kids these days. Making a lounge-chair out of concrete steps, and leaving their stuff everywhere. If Elias thought to apologize, that option is soon out the window with the attitude he's given. He's dealt with war criminals all his life; never are they quite as vicious as a teenage girl.

"Hmmm," he ponders as though looking at a menu. "I do 'fucking mind'. Any other questions before I continue on my merry way?"

[dcydevils]

[ STATS ... ] NAME . Elias Everett Ford [ E. E. Ford ] AGE . Fifty GENDER . cis-man PRONOUNS + SEXUAL ORIENTATION. he/him + who knows ! ! FAMILY . n/a OCCUPATION . Director of the CIA HEIGHT . 6'3

[ MORE ... ]

A born and raised patriot, Elias has only ever known their ideals. Until the age of twenty, what his parents taught him was all he was led to believe in ... and then, came the army.

Elias's life has very much been a military one, deciding early to make a name for himself in such circles. Elias graduated from West Point, with a B.S. degree in Military Science. He earned the General George C. Marshall Award as the top graduate of the U.S. Army Command and General Staff College at Fort Leavenworth. He subsequently earned an M.P.A. degree in and a Ph.D. in international relations from Princeton University's Woodrow Wilson School of Public and International Affairs.

In the army, it became a game of one position, then another, and while most dreamed of the day of going back, Elias held no intentions of leaving. He said it was his duty, but not everyone believed that. He was good at it ... and he could get used to the violence.

And he did. Upon his ultimate return as a now fully formed man, there was no other field for him to explore... Everything his parents had taught him had already been forgotten... it was too long ago, wars blending together into the back of his mind.

Elias ultimately retired from the U.S. Army. During the ceremony, he was honored for his work as a combat leader and strategist in the modern world. For all in such circles, his nomination for Director of the CIA came as no surprise — and his cold grip on the position, much less.

And he didn't come to play. Elias would fix things ... or die trying.

[ PERSONALITY ... ]

Putting it simply, E. E. FORD can be radical, but he gets it done. He knows all too well it's not always enough to play by the rules ... and sometimes turning yourself into one of the bad guys, is the only way for the good guys to win.