@unethicallybrilliant | plotted starter
Coffee was not what motivated Angela to return to this little shop day after day, though it was a perk. On the contrary, she needed to scope out the area. She needed to know the shop inside and out, the side streets surrounding it, the alleys, every variable before she made first contact. With this being a deviation from her usual practice she couldn’t let a single detail slip through her fingers. It would be more public, more risky--but given the nature of the target she thought she could stomach the danger.
After copious preparation Angela at last was ready to tailor her visit to match Dr. O’Deorain’s schedule. This didn’t mean she’d make contact today, she reminded herself as she stood in line to order. Continued patience would serve her well. Nervous excitement buzzed underneath her skin nonetheless; and when she stepped away to find a table, her order for a latte with an extra espresso shot placed, she smoothly glanced over the tall, lean red-haired woman at the back of the line. There she was.
Blue eyes darted back as though captivated and her pace faltered. Controlled, measured--one breath, no more--before flitting down in a show of demure self-consciousness. Without looking back to see if she’d been noticed she selected a table near the window, her back to the counter. This wasn’t about approaching her target; it was about drawing her in. The soft cream fabric of her sweater draped off of one shoulder in a quietly suggestive fashion, its hem drawing the eye to crossed legs kept modest by chocolate-toned tights. Contact may not happen today, but Angela’s heart raced to think it might.
And if it didn’t? She could always use a good cup of coffee.
