fist encounter; osprey x violet.
“Chat échaudé craint l’eau froide.”
That cup of coffee she had spent an hour trying to make while Dusk talked her into a headache worse than a hangover almost slipped from her fingers and onto the concrete upon hearing that phrase. It wasn’t necessarily the phrase that caught her off guard, but the familiar sound that she couldn’t recall, the fluent accent that she wasn’t used to. Hell, the last time she’d heard someone attempt to say something in French around here was when Luke walked around drunk, saying ‘I wanna go to the toilet’ because he thought it sounded nice.
A part of her felt homesick for the home that she couldn’t even remember in France. And yet, she ignored that part of her, couldn’t even be bothered to turn around and check who the intruder was. Not that he cared, anyway, for it took him exactly 5 heartbeats to invite himself over and sit next to her. His emerald hues stared back at her with a spark that she knew very well was insane enough for Rio to adopt, and a smile that she knew very well was just bright enough for Dusk to keep talking about.
Oh. So that’s the new guy. What was his name again? Osprey?
Osprey had managed to piss her off just 5 minutes into being called part of the group. That was a record. How did he manage to find her secret spot that fast, anyway? No one bothered to to lurk around the rooftop, except for Keith, and they had a silent agreement to share that spot together. Although, it was the best spot in the sanctuary. The view aside, it was designed to look more like a penthouse without the walls than it was a rooftop.
“So, do you say it because it sounds nice or do you actually know what it means?” She arched an eyebrow and took a sip of her coffee, trying to hold back that challenging smirk of hers as he scoffed.
“If I wanted to sound charming, I would’ve just went for Dusk. I said Je m’en fou in front of her and she was swooning.” He tilted his head to the side, eyes oddly fond of her, to the point where it made her uncomfortable.“You don’t remember me, do you?”
In an attempt to match his description with her memory, she scanned him carelessly; tall, dark hair, green eyes, irritating confidence, fluent French—maybe she’d killed one of his friends in that last mission in Paris. Another sip of her coffee and her gaze was averted to the scenery, shrugging him off.
“Well, you,” he neglected her very obvious rejection and went on with his speech anyway. “—stabbed me. I still have the scar, right down my left side. We were both after the same guy. Russian, blonde, had one green eye and one blue eye, very clumsy assassin who just refused to die. Moscow. Anything rings a bell?”
“Ah.” She nodded her head, a chuckle echoing at the memory. “But why in the world would Rio hire a shitty assassin?”
There was a breeze of air that swirled her curls. The weather was nice, sleepy in a way, even the sun drowsily painted the sky as it rose. She could almost see the entire city from up here. He, too, was caught off guard by the tranquility of the atmosphere. It was nothing like inside the sanctuary.
“A scalded cat fears cold water.” He whispered, translating the phrase he had said earlier. “And I have a feeling everyone in here fears how cold you are, Violet Winters.”
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