@atrappedwolfwill “...Jimbob Klansmanski will undoubtedly be a loss felt nationwide for as long as internet-forum weirdos see fit to keep repeating his name. Nothing in his life became him like the leaving of it.” Could that be humour? It’s delivered in such a dry, professional tone that it might genuinely be hard to tell for at least a moment. Emily, to her credit, isn’t dressed like this is some kind of clandestine meeting at all. She has sunglasses, but they’re tucked into her front pocket.
“And... yeah. I’ll readily admit that even if this town were twice the size it probably wouldn’t get any more international than an IHOP. I’m as ready to leave as you are, believe me. Stationing overseas has kind of spoiled me, I’ll admit.” All told, Emily’s doing a shockingly good job keeping it casual considering the state she was in when last they spoke.
It doesn’t even seem like she’s imagining jumping over the table and cracking Sombra’s head open against the floor. She smiles and nods to the waitress, briefly gesturing for her to stick around a moment after Sombra asks for a drink. “French press for me, thank you. And the house reuben as well.” She waits, then turns her eyes back to the hacker. “I would say I’m surprised you’re not more concerned about an operational failure, but if I thought you would have a real interest in keeping him alive I wouldn’t have extended an olive branch.”
The hacker (very delicately, mind you) snorted and covered her mouth. Shit, okay, that was pretty good. Where she not paying attention, the dry tone would have made her miss it. She leans back into her seat away a little bit, averting her gaze as she listens.
It makes it easier for her to focus, sometimes looking at folks was too intense. And her neurodivergency made it easy - there was a fly buzzing over the next table, the young man at the counter looked exhausted due to an upcoming English Literature exam (he had a C, yikes), and there was a chip in one of her nails that wasn't there before. Shit.
She looked up when she was addressed again and she was going to be so happy to bury the weirdness for another four months. Sombra's expression was incredulous. "So you managed to track me in Zacatecas but you didn't catch anything of my earlier work?" The hacker's voice was low, waiting until the waiter was just out of earshot. "Look, I-" A pause, then annoyance with herself, and she averted her gaze again. 30 years old. Grown as hell. "Sometimes I have to do things I don't like doing. But I don't think I could really live with myself if some Nazi was alive because of me."
It was probably the most honest thing she'd said so far.
