SHE FLEXES HER FINGERS, the muscles in her palm tightening around the strap of her bag as she holds it firmly on her shoulder. The other hand jumps up and delivers a solid knock, knuckles rapping upon wood; she waits. A picturesque habitat - quite a luxurious mode of living, she canât help but think. Sheâs used to towering skyscrapers, back alleys, the sound of cars and shouts and loud music from the bar on the corner. This is quiet. Peaceful. The ocean is this familyâs front yard. A wife & a daughter. She can handle this. Though being put on babysitting duty is hardly a good use of her particular talents.Â
   She continues this train of thought until the door opens. She smiles, extends a hand. BLUNT, straightforward ( as always ), she makes no effort to appear as anything but a stranger. Itâs not as though there are other people around who might grow suspicious.Â
   âHello. Iâm Mara Peterson. Your new but no less dear old friend who happens to also be a writer and has dropped by for a visit. Youâre Elena Fisher. I believe your husband told you to expect meâŠâ  Her voice is calm & even. She isnât intimidated, no matter how strange the circumstances revolving around this introduction. Sheâd done her HOMEWORK and studied this couple before her arrival. She hadnât walked into this blind - sheâs not assuming sheâll get anything less than a frosty encounter on this sun-soaked stretch of paradise.
  Sheâd been on edge the majority of that day.  Nate had filled her in on what would be happening on HER side of this story ; a glorified babysitter keeping an eye on her & her daughter, while her husband was off doing god knows what because the CIA had told him to.  Or else.  -------- & she wants to keep a level head during all of this  ( after all, that was her job, right ?  She was the calm, sensible one in this relationship ), but the anxieties & the anger & the worry seem to worm their way back into her subconscious ; manifesting themselves as nightmares & dark thoughts that she wished would just GO AWAY.
  Then that sound of a knuckle rapping against the opposite side of her front door hits her eardrums.  & whatever mental preparation sheâd built up for that moment prove fruitless  /  as she jumps at the noise, a beating heart thumping against her rib cage as she gets up to answer the door.  When she reaches the door, she lingers for a moment. She has to steady the slight tremble in her hand before she can turn the knob, revealing the woman on the other side of her door.
  Her own lips press tightly together as the othersâ part, a STARE the only thing she can provide the brunette at the moment.  Hazels then flick to the hand offered her, cheeks warming a bit as she hesitates.  She takes it nonetheless, gives the stranger a firm handshake before she looks up to meet the otherâs gaze. Â
   â  Pleasure,  â she returns, voice holding a certain iciness that sheâd almost forgot she possessed. â  Youâre ... right on time  :  four oâclock on the dot.  Just like Nate said.  â  She then steps to the side, arm swooping dramatically so as to invite the woman inside her home  ( not something she was too thrilled about having to do. )  â  Come in.  ------------ My daughterâs asleep right now, so just try not to wake her or anything.  â
izzy806
areudirty
pixelskylines
discoholicmusic
amandla
yousharknotpass
