𑁍ࠬܓ Recording 02 : ███
The whirring sound of a video coming to life fills the air; dappled by the accompanying hum of static. It’s soft crackling almost akin popcorn, in some distant way.
“Mr…Soto. Yes?”
“Ahm, /Rivera/-Soto..but correct! Hello, Señor…?”
“Peterson.”
There’s a moment of tense silence; strain between interviewer and interviewee. The former—a formally dressed man—sat innocently pleased by his correction. His vest and slacks, both matching in color and upkeep, were a welcoming yellow. His posture was poised, polite as a young child at Sunday school—pure, yet regimented. Most notably, his expression bore no malice, rather a friendliness. A friendliness that made Peter roll his eyes. Were all the recruits for this team really going to be this happy-go-lucky?
“Señor Peterson! A pleasure to be interviewed by you.”
Peter pinched the bridge of his nose silently as his eyes shut, a gesture that garnered the quietest chuckle from his subject. “Yes, yes. Let’s carry on past this; both of us have places to be.”
Despite Peter’s rocky first impressions of this recruit, plenty of information was garnered about him throughout the remainder of the recording, and the tension gradually diminished. The interviewees warmth seemed contagious, even when only listening.
Through the rest of the interaction, Peter garners from the spy that his name was Ángel Rivera-Soto. His past, when questioned, revealed years of a life once aboard oil tankers—a retired third mate that’d always had an underlying longing for sleuthing. When asked to elaborate on the drastic change in career choice, Ángels laugh was all that the recording picks up at first, followed by a shake of the head. Eventually, however…he relented. Slightly.
“Even the sea becomes lonely company, Señor Peterson.”
Recording end. … it’s been a few years since then.
