@samekindofbadasme
It’s unusually warm for a winter night in New York. The breeze is soft, brushing tenderly past her as she makes her way from the theater. She’s the last to leave, unconcerned by the late hour and the dark shroud covering the city. People liked to paint the most bustling part of Manhattan as a target zone, but they’d obviously never been to the back alleys of Paris.
However, she does feel someone. Not in the way she felt an occasional brush past her, or a lingering gaze. No, she could feel him drawing closer with every step. When the older man came into view, she was hardly surprised.
Time and time again, their paths crossed. Far and wide, with no pattern to it. It was unnerving, but....right, in a way. Letting out a sharp sigh, she looked to Vasco with furrowed brows, “Are you following me?”
