“I guess that’s probably part of the problem.”
——–※ATTENTION ATTENTION※——-
Silence is deafening in the alleyway, shadows encroaching beyond damp recesses. There is no pitter-patter of rain, only small droplets wearing at the ground. It’s a far more welcome sight compared to the downpour earlier, almost a thin fog of safety instead of the low-visibility onslaught. It also meant that the man patiently waiting didn’t have to worry about ruining his attire, though an unopened umbrella remained fixed between gloved fingers should the weather turn sour once more.
One hand moves to delicately pull at a sleeve, revealing a silver watch. Still a few minutes until the meeting. Still too prideful to let himself tardy. His watch becomes covered by fabric once more with a slight shift, lightly moving the wooden umbrella handle to his other hand. He should know by now not to arrive early - more likely to arouse suspicion, waiting is a dull and tedious expanse of time, and he’s almost always left waiting longer - yet a few habits simply cannot be shaken in his line of work. He’s held plenty of company, from important diplomats to the dredges of the underworld.
In this case, testy private eyes.
He notes the time after a cigarette’s embers flicker to life, smoke joining the rain as faux-ginger brows furrow in annoyance. Ten minutes past the meeting time. He’ll give him until his cigarette is out - never mind the fact that he’d been the one to contact him.
It’s just as the rain is surging once more that he hears reverberating clicks of worn dress shoes, embers nearing the filter. Arsène flicks it into a puddle, moving away from the brick wall and unfurling his umbrella. There’s room for two, and with an incline of his head, the solace is extended towards the other. It helps mask the irritation creasing his face.
Walking and filling him in is simple. The sidewalks are as empty as the alleyways, with the rain beginning to crescendo, even the cars don’t pay them any mind. He needs aid with keeping the CIA off of his tail, and had been recommended to him by an American colleague.〝These pests, you see, have been able to get into my supplies no matter what precautions I take,〞they’ve been able to discern who I am despite covering my identity,〝- and I am at a loss on what could take care of them,〞and I’m not sure how much they know nor how to solve this.〝I understand that you are an expert in getting rid of them, and would like to employ your services. If you are unavailable, a few tips would be worthwhile,〞I know you can do it, but if it’s too difficult, any information on how would be helpful.
The man pauses in contemplation, brief and fleeting. 〝I also suspect that one of my colleagues may be feeding one of these pests, hence the clandestin nature of our meeting,〞I’m not sure who to trust at the moment, so I came to you secretly. There’s outright silence after, only broken by his companion following them passing under a street lamp.
❝I guess that’s probably part of the problem.❞
Arsène nods, shifting his grip on his umbrella.〝Indeed. Too many problems coming to light in so little time. It makes it difficult for me to do my job,〞it’s making it impossible to work,〝- but I have heard only glowing recommendations from one of my other colleagues. I trust you will make the right decision.〞 He glances over at him, noting his yellow eyes - were they contacts like his own? Or were they somehow natural? No, probably not contacts. His lips twitch into a befuddled sort of frown, only now fully taking in the other as he was prone to do, the little ticks he could immediately catch. Hopefully, the scrutiny isn’t unwarranted.
