When I give them permission. [ his focus settles back on the road, laughing under his breath. it's been awhile since he's had an actual girlfriend. women that he slept with sometimes? sure but those weren't girlfriends. ]
Nothing for you to pass on when it's never going to happen. [ he expects to never see her again after this job. ] I don't even remember your name.
[ carmen had told him. he'd just been in a pissy mood that he was being saddled with yet another amateur. carmen liked to say it was goo experience for what they were doing but carmen's full of shit. ]
We're going to do this and then I'm going to send you back to wherever you came from.
[ and in that instant, daisy knows he's the key. too sure of himself, too certain of his own infallibility; to catch him in a trap of his own making will require getting under his skin, until his loyalty shifts and his choices require a betrayal of one kind or another.
whether she wants to or not — and, right now, she'd say she absolutely does not — she'll be reeling marcos diaz in. ]
I'm sure they're just ecstatic for the opportunity. [ how long will it take before he admits he knows it? or gives in and asks for it? ] Glad to hear they came to their senses.
[ since he's clearly not attached to anyone. ]
Though, just between us — [ she pauses, checking her phone for a moment before slipping it back between her thighs, a deliberately drawn out gesture intended specifically to draw his eyes down ] — I don't think you could handle me, so you can drop the bullshit.
Is this the part where I argue that I can absolutely handle you and offer to make good on that promise? [ he looks over just as she's putting her phone away and though his eyes do follow its journey, they don't linger.
but he had looked. ]
Again, I don't want to handle you. You and I, we're going to know each other for a few hours and then you're going back to Carmen. She can play with her new toy all she wants. We're going to have a very short relationship.
[ he wants to do his job, get paid and be left to his own devices. he wants to do the work that he's good at uninhibited by someone he thinks can't handle it. ]
No. [ yes. ] Sweet of you to say this is a relationship, though.
[ the conversation cuts short as the suburban pulls into a parking lot off an unpaved road, a sharp turn of the wheel kicking up clouds of ground up gravel. she doesn't bother to wait for his go-ahead to open the door and swing her legs out, grabbing the duffel that sits at her feet.
while he checks his makeup or whatever he needs to do in the driver's seat, daisy kneels down to unzip the bag, pulling out a slim-fit vest. her bomber jacket comes off, revealing a cut-out black tee; more interesting are the gauntlets that twist over her bare arms, matte metal and black a sharp contrast to her honeyed skin.
there's a practiced calm to the way she secures the vest against her ribs, velcro straps tugged and tightened with solid, sure hands. this isn't her first rodeo, no matter how young she looks; though skye hasn't explained her background to carmen, she doesn't want to fail, either.
all set, daisy runs a hand through her hair, pushing it back from her brows to the crown of her head. and waits, because he's not ready. ]
[ he doesn't need the gun but he slides down against the small of his back anyway. it's always good to have a little insurance policy just in case he feels like getting a little creative. that doesn't typically happen, not when his hands provide enough literal firepower on their own.
god, was he making puns at his own expense now? he needs a drink. he's pulled his phone out again, scrolling through to make sure he knows exit routes just in case this man decides to run. he's got a little bit of a squirrely reputation and he's got a lot of cronies. hopefully they can just talk, exchange some money and the man'll come along without a fight.
but that typically doesn't happen. she pipes up and he sighs, wondering why he'd gotten saddled with someone so talkative. he shoves his phone back in his pocket and takes his jacket off, leaving it in the backseat.
rather not get blood on that. he makes her wait a little longer while he rolls his sleeves up to his elbows and then shuts the car door. ]
Come on. I talk, you stand there and look -- [ well, whatever. pretty? intimidating? innocent? whatever. ] She wants him mostly unharmed.
[ she almost opens her mouth to argue, her own pride stepping in, but daisy swallows it down. while she might be an experienced agent, capable of handling a simple task on her own, skye is new. to try and take the lead on another organization's operation would potentially blow her cover. it's better — safer, even — to pretend to have a stroke of genius if things go wrong than to play all her cards at once. ]
Somehow I get the feeling the talking's not your favorite part.
[ it's the getaway driving. or maybe the casual torture and/or murder? ]
Who's him? And what parts?
[ does he need to be able to walk? talk? see? daisy wonders how far "mostly" goes. she does her best to sound blase about it. ]
[ was that enough information? he's tempted to just give her that as he walks towards the building. he doesn't expect much opposition since this man thinks no one knows where his little hidey hole is. so, maybe he'd have one or two guards with him but they'd be easily disposed of. ]
He has the ability to disguise energy signatures.
[ an important ability when you did the things they did. and if carmen wants him, carmen gets him. ]
As for what you can do to him, the answer's nothing. I'll take care of it. [ if asked, he wouldn't say he's overconfident but he doesn't trust her at all. might as well do this quickly and cleanly.
once he's in front of the door, marcos knocks, a gesture of courtesy more than anything else before he tries the knob. locked. easily fixed by using one heavy boot to kick it open.]
Henry! Come on, man, don't make me chase you. I'm tired.
[ there's no answer. marcos turns his head and listens for any sound of scuffling, of scraping, of breathing and then moves further into the small building. ]
Watch the exits. [ at least he's trying to give her something to do? that's big of him. he moves around quietly, picking up various things and putting them down all the while letting his eyes roam.
they settle on a closet at the far end of the room. he moves in closer, settling his hand on the knob and then yanks it open. immediately, there's movement, shuffling and shouting before marcos grabs him by the back of his shirt and hauls him out of the closet. ]
Couldn't even greet us? Pretty rude, Henry.
[ and then he shoves him into a nearby chair and raises a hand, daring the man to move. he doesn't. ]
[ the man doesn't talk. not at first, anyway. his pride and his fear battle it out, a silent refusal to share any information he might have about hidden mutants or their families. she realizes, then, that this isn't just about disguising the trail of singed ozone in the air. this is about protecting those that hide from the cartel, families of mutants who refuse to be shackled for their abilities and sold to the highest bidder or to be used as weapons in someone else's war.
it makes something in daisy's stomach twist, bile in her throat. she tries to disguise it as frustration with the man's refusal to cooperate. ]
He's not going to talk to you.
[ the man — henry — doesn't know what to do. he looks at her with confusion, bewilderment in his eyes, and then back at marcos. is this a trick? a game? she can't comfort him, so her tone remains stern, exasperated. as if marcos is the one wasting time. ]
Let me handle him.
[ a hand juts out, palm parallel to the floor, and she raises a brow in challenge. the floor beneath henry's feet begins to rumble, extending outwards towards the walls; after a moment or two, anything not bolted to the ground begins to quiver, the sounds of jostled glassware chiming in the background. ]
Go start the car. Let me do the dirty work, and you can keep your precious boots clean.
[ he's almost forgotten that she's in the room. it's not until she speaks and then does something that makes the entire ground shake that he turns to pay attention to her. this isn't how it's supposed to go. this isn't what he told her to do and he glares at her, having to stop himself from snapping at her in front of this idiot.
no matter what he thinks of her, he doesn't want to show discord in front of someone else. so, he holds up a finger to her because he is not leaving without instilling to this man just how deadly serious this is. he turns his attention away from her and back to henry, still looking like he might piss himself. ]
Open your eyes.
[ his eyes are already open but marcos wants them to stay that way while he reaches into his pocket for a roll of tape. he's done this before and it works remarkably well as a threat. he's quick about taping each of the man's eyes open and then he brings his hand closer to his face, light pouring from his palm. it's bright enough that he starts trying to blink but can't because of what's on his face.
marcos brings his hand close enough that the man can't not look and holds it there. he knows exactly how long he can do this before he causes permanent damage. been there, done that. ]
If you don't talk to her, I'm going to come back in here and I'm going to take your eyes.
[ not literally. that was gross. he keeps his hands against henry's face for a few seconds longer before he closes his fingers into a fist and turns to go. the look he sends her on the way out isn't pleasant but he thinks it's big that he lets her handle him.
after all, he can come back in if she can't convince the man to come along. so, out to the car marcos goes, leaning against the front of and watching the building curiously. ]
[ she watches him tape the man's eyes open, watches him threaten blindness with pure, searing heat, watches him leave — as soon as the door slams behind him, daisy spits on the floor, bile and saliva both mixing as she gags from the churning nausea in her stomach. violence is one thing. throwing a punch, breaking a limb, even killing a man; she can handle it. but torture, the cold-hearted satisfaction? it makes her sick. literally sick. henry's busy babbling bullshit, poor guy, and daisy's just doing her best to keep her composure.
a hand rests on the back of his chair as she tries to catch her breath, and once she manages, she wipes her mouth with the back of the other. gross. the residue is scraped off onto the chair, and daisy squats down, putting herself at eye level with the man. ]
Whatever you don't tell me? You know what's going to happen. [ the man nods, wide-eyed. whether it's because he understands what daisy won't — can't — say out loud, or because he simply doesn't want to be blinded, is up in the air. doesn't matter, though. ] Tell me.
[ and then, as a show of good faith, daisy rips the tape off. it's not a kind gesture (there's no kind way to do it) but it's not purposefully cruel either, and she does her best to avoid too much pain. it's enough. the man begins to sing like a canary, words crashing over each other, and daisy listens. the mic picks it up, transfers it to headquarters for immediate transcription — they're smart enough to know how to handle it. those people, all the people on that list, will be picked up and moved, transferred to a safe place across the border where carmen and her goons can't get to them. she knows there's a risk. this could out her as a leak, or she could blame it on bad intel. there's no question what will happen to this man as a result — but perhaps she can offer to shoulder that burden for carmen herself, and still get him out. she can't dwell on it, now, though. she has to finish this task first. complete the mission. ]
Stand up.
[ henry stumbles to his feet, still uncertain. it's too easy, too quick. there will be questions if she can do in seconds what marcos could not, and so daisy holds a finger to her lips — say nothing — before leveling a hand at the chair he's vacated. with a squeeze of her palm, the chair rockets backwards, slamming into the far wall hard enough that it cracks apart, plates and glasses from the shelves above raining down from the impact. a struggle in sound, if nothing else. ]
Hands out. [ from her pockets, zip ties. tight enough to secure, not tight enough to injure, his hands secured behind his back. ] Don't do anything stupid. [ if he tries to escape, she can't help him. not in front of someone else. ] Walk. Outside.
[ and thus, they do. she marches him out, into the parking lot, gravel clouds rising under their feet as they meet up with their chauffeur. ]
[ he's in one piece so that's good. he doesn't know exactly what she'd done while he'd left her alone but he was in one piece and had all of his faculties about him so at least the merchandise was undamaged. might have been fun to mess him up a little but whatever. the sooner they can dump this guy with carmen, the better. ]
Get in the car.
[ not you, henry. marcos steps forward and grabs his arm, taking him around to shove him into the trunk. it's not a terrible spot since the suv has an open trunk but he pushes him into a laying position and warns him to stay there.
then, he climbs into the car and gets it going, waiting for her to climb in. when she climbs in, his eyes are on her, unblinking and dark. he's curious and he hates that. he wants to know what she did while she'd been in there alone but he doesn't want to show too much interest.
eventually, he pulls his eyes away from her and his the gas. ]
Let's go. [ he's not gonna let himself be intrigued. it's pointless. it was time to go and time to drop her off and let her disappear into the cartel's innards. he's done.
[ if he's not going to ask, she's not going to volunteer. instead, she opts to ignore his glances in favor of fishing her phone out of her back pocket, once again ensuring his wandering eyes can view the messages as they go in and out. ]
it's done. i took care of it. how did you like marcos? i didn't. that's too bad. you two will look so good together. will? when? tonight. i'm having a party, you will come. talk more when i see you.
[ a party. presumably at the guerra family's club, where money flows like water to launder from their more illicit activities. though carmen hadn't complained about her getup earlier, she knows that luck won't hold. ]
I wonder what the occasion is, [ daisy finally murmurs, as if he hasn't been reading the texts the entire time. ] A party for Carmen, and it's not even her birthday.
[ he can hear henry moving around but as long as he keeps his head down, marcos will let him alone. ]
She does what she wants when she wants to do it. Maybe she woke up in a good mood today. Maybe she bought a new pair of shoes. I don't know. She throws parties a lot.
[ he doesn't remark on the whole 'you will look gos good together' thing. he doesn't know what carmen's playing at but this ends here. in his opinion, this ends here. ]
I'm sure she'll tell you all about it when you see her. [ since they were such close friends and all. ] I'd be careful there if I were you.
Hm. [ daisy considers the warning for a moment, her gaze turning back to him just long enough to watch his fingers curve a little possessively around the wheel. there's history there, she realizes. ] Was she too rough for you?
[ women like carmen, women who had power and money and beauty and (believed they had) brains — they took what they wanted and spat it out when they were done. it doesn't take much to think up something carmen might have wanted of the man sitting in the driver's seat. daisy doesn't want to admit why it's so easy to think of it, but it was. ]
I'm sure I can handle her, but if you'd like to play bodyguard, I'm sure she won't complain.
[ not that he really had a choice. if carmen wanted to see them both, she would, and judging by her texts, daisy had a feeling that would be the case. ]
[ his hands tighten around the steering wheel for barely a second, an indication that she'd grazed a nerve before he calms himself down and shakes his head. ]
You don't know what you're talking about.
[ his past was just that -- his. he's not going to share it with someone he doesn't even know. ]
I'm not playing anything. I'll go because it's expected but you're on your own. [ if carmen did to her what she'd done to him, oh well. you took your licks and you kept taking them because that was how it worked here. that was the meaning of loyalty.
he's tired. it feels like he's been going going going the last few weeks and this plus this sudden party just make him feel even more weary. he looks forward to drinking too much and passing out for hours in a little while. ]
Maybe. [ but judging by his reaction and his snappy tone, she doesn't think she was that far off, either. ] But if you don't tell me, I'm sure she will.
[ carmen seemed particularly chatty. why, daisy's not entirely sure. maybe it's the result of finally having another woman to talk to after years of being surrounded by men. maybe it's just that carmen's an equal opportunity cartel boss and wants to sink her teeth into her newest recruit before she can turn against her. in any case, daisy's fully willing to exploit the situation. ]
We're almost there.
[ she says it mostly for the benefit of henry in the back, whose bumps and adjustments have gotten steadily noisier over the last few minutes. it's not that she knows the area, but the thick iron gates that surround the edge of the property do sort of give it away. as for marcos, she peeks down at her phone one last time before offering a quiet advisory. ]
And just in case you don't want to look like a complete idiot when you explain how some girl whose name you don't know saved your ass, it's Skye.
[ he doesn't say anything at first. he doesn't say anything for so long that it probably appears like he's going to let it roll off his back but once he's navigated the suv through the compound and parked it, he turns towards her quickly and leans into her personal space. ]
Let's get one thing straight, Skye: you didn't save me. I let you handle that because you asked me so nicely. If you hadn't, I would have taken care of it. You saved nothing. Don't come near me again.
[ that was probably not going to happen but he could hope. he's out of the car before she can retort, dragging henry out of the trunk and shoving him towards a building in the back. he'd hand him off to someone else and then disappear until this party tonight.
[ marcos flounces so suddenly and without warning that by the time she realizes he's out of the car, he's already halfway across the lot with henry hot on his heels. so much for snappy retorts or clever comebacks.
oh well. maybe that'll be the end of things, and he'll have his way. as she provides a recap of their expedition to carmen, though, daisy has to wonder if it'll be that simple. carmen seems all too pleased by her report, even amused at times as daisy recounts exactly how much marcos clearly didn't like her, and when all's said and done, she's thanked for her efforts with a stack of cash larger than anything she's ever seen.
it takes daisy a whole five seconds to remember that the money isn't hers. it's skye's, and whatever skye doesn't need to stay undercover, skye will be turning into the shield administrative offices when all is said and done for reconciling. but for a brief flash of time, it feels nice to hold it in her hands.
after that, things move fairly quickly. she's reminded about the party — mandatory, in all but the name — and the dress code carmen expects; when daisy pipes up that she doesn't even have a car here, since marcos was so kind as to refuse to bring her back to the lot they'd met in, carmen simply shrugs and gestures for one of her assistants to bring something from her closet.
we're the same size, aren't we? no. no, they are not. carmen's tits are twice her size, first off. well, then buy her something. go on. she can't wear that, it's embarrassing.
that's one way to get rid of someone. daisy doesn't protest (can't protest), even as she's shephered to yet another black suv, driven across town to the ritzier end of bogota's shopping district, to a shopfront where armed guards smile at the site of the license plate and pull aside comfortable chairs. it's a bit jarring, but — well. she leaves with a black dress that's more expensive than her undercover alias' monthly rent check and a pair of shoes with which she could both kill a man and auction for cash.
which, as it turns out, is a good outfit. an expensive outfit, but a good one. maybe it will help her get the barman's attention, several hours later at this unavoidable party.
[ he could have skipped the party. carmen would have been upset but it wouldn't have been the end of the world. he's tired and he's really not up to socializing with people but something makes him go anyway. he figures he can just have a few drinks and leave after about an hour or so.
since he's going to the party, he makes sure that he's dressed appropriately at least. if he's going to make an appearance, he has to be sure not to embarrass carmen especially in light of their history.
so, black on black it is. he rolls the sleeves of the shirt up and makes sure everything is pressed and neat before arriving. marcos does the requisite shaking of hands and even spends a few minutes chatting with carmen. she asks him about the operation, about skye but he doesn't give her much before finally taking a seat at the bar.
he can still feel carmen's eyes on his back but he ignores that for now. instead, he orders a drink and pulls his phone out of his pocket, checking a few things. it takes him a moment to notice someone beside him but when he does, he's actually taken aback.
he had no idea that face could wear a dress like that. he had no idea she owned a dress like that and he had no idea that he could stare at her for that long after being so angry at just her mere presence earlier.
he clears his throat and turns back to his drink and his phone, scrolling through a few news articles that he is absolutely not reading. ]
[ she knows he was staring. it's hard not to notice when his gaze is as hot as the light that shines from his palms, harder still when the bartender slides a drink and a knowing glance in her direction, but she doesn't call him out on it right away.
no, she waits until his head swivels back down to his phone, until the false cough of a man clearing his throat after an awkward bout of silence echoes in the small space between them. only then does daisy lean over, head tipping just the slightest bit, to whisper in his ear. ]
You should take a picture. [ a soft chime of laughter, a sip of her drink ] It'll last longer.
[ his shoulder curls up and he shoots her a look, one that says he blames her for being caught staring even if he'd been the one who'd been looking. he can't help it, he'd been caught off guard, almost unable to believe this was the same person who'd slid on a flak jacket earlier in his car. ]
No thanks.
[ fine, he'd been staring. he knows how to appreciate a beautiful woman but it doesn't have to go beyond that. he's appreciated her and now he can go back to scrolling through his phone and trying not to pay attention to her right next to his shoulder. ]
This partying living up to your expectations? [ he doesn't look at her (because that's dangerous when she looks like she does) but he decides to talk to her. doesn't know why. ]
[ if he wants to play aloof, like he wasn't just trying to bore a hole in her chest from his eyes alone, then she'll let him play aloof. she'll sip at her drink and people watch, maybe wait for someone else with better manners (or any at all) to approach her. ]
No one here knows how to dance.
[ carmen guerra's club boasts a better dancefloor than any other in bogota. on a regular night, hundreds of bodies move on the floor, their cash flowing on the liquor and the private booths and the cover charge at the door; tonight, with carmen's nearest, dearest, and most useful filling the space, there are less dancers and more stand-around-and-talkers, much to daisy's chagrin.
if she has to be here, she'd prefer to have a good time doing so. ]
They're all on their phones pretending not to stare.
[ but he does drop his phone on the bar top and swivels around on the stool, turning to look at the dance floor. he's been there a time or two, sometimes with carmen and sometimes with someone else. it's been awhile since he's danced at one of the parties but a few months ago, he was a regular there. ]
Take some initiative and ask around. Find someone to dance with and don't take no for an answer. [ that was his motivational speech for the day. he turns back around and picks up his phone but slides it back into his pocket. ]
[ she doesn't speak spanish, but she can read tone just fine. curt, dry, dismissive — as if he thinks she'll take his suggestion and turn heel, run away the way he wants her to believe he wants her to? there's no way. ]
Come on, sunshine. [ a hand curves around his wrist, pulling it forward with an insistent tug; as his eyes skim down to her hand and then back up to hers, she offers an opportunity for him to justify this to himself. ] I talked you up to Carmen, you show me your moves.
[ she did not. but she could have. still could, if she really wanted to. ]
You don't need to talk me up to anyone. I let my work speak for itself.
[ and he's really not sure how he feels about her speaking to carmen of all people about him. skye doesn't know him, carmen does and if carmen's in her ear, who knows what she's told skye.
but, is he getting up, letting her tug him to his feet with a long suffering sight? yes. ]
And stop calling me sunshine. [ he takes the lead, letting her keep a hold of his wrist as he walks in front of her, weaving through the assembled members of the party and stepping onto the dance floor. he turns to face her and raises an eyebrow. ]
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Nothing for you to pass on when it's never going to happen. [ he expects to never see her again after this job. ] I don't even remember your name.
[ carmen had told him. he'd just been in a pissy mood that he was being saddled with yet another amateur. carmen liked to say it was goo experience for what they were doing but carmen's full of shit. ]
We're going to do this and then I'm going to send you back to wherever you came from.
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whether she wants to or not — and, right now, she'd say she absolutely does not — she'll be reeling marcos diaz in. ]
I'm sure they're just ecstatic for the opportunity. [ how long will it take before he admits he knows it? or gives in and asks for it? ] Glad to hear they came to their senses.
[ since he's clearly not attached to anyone. ]
Though, just between us — [ she pauses, checking her phone for a moment before slipping it back between her thighs, a deliberately drawn out gesture intended specifically to draw his eyes down ] — I don't think you could handle me, so you can drop the bullshit.
[ a challenge. ]
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but he had looked. ]
Again, I don't want to handle you. You and I, we're going to know each other for a few hours and then you're going back to Carmen. She can play with her new toy all she wants. We're going to have a very short relationship.
[ he wants to do his job, get paid and be left to his own devices. he wants to do the work that he's good at uninhibited by someone he thinks can't handle it. ]
A happy ending for us both.
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[ the conversation cuts short as the suburban pulls into a parking lot off an unpaved road, a sharp turn of the wheel kicking up clouds of ground up gravel. she doesn't bother to wait for his go-ahead to open the door and swing her legs out, grabbing the duffel that sits at her feet.
while he checks his makeup or whatever he needs to do in the driver's seat, daisy kneels down to unzip the bag, pulling out a slim-fit vest. her bomber jacket comes off, revealing a cut-out black tee; more interesting are the gauntlets that twist over her bare arms, matte metal and black a sharp contrast to her honeyed skin.
there's a practiced calm to the way she secures the vest against her ribs, velcro straps tugged and tightened with solid, sure hands. this isn't her first rodeo, no matter how young she looks; though skye hasn't explained her background to carmen, she doesn't want to fail, either.
all set, daisy runs a hand through her hair, pushing it back from her brows to the crown of her head. and waits, because he's not ready. ]
Do you need a hand back there, old man?
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god, was he making puns at his own expense now? he needs a drink. he's pulled his phone out again, scrolling through to make sure he knows exit routes just in case this man decides to run. he's got a little bit of a squirrely reputation and he's got a lot of cronies. hopefully they can just talk, exchange some money and the man'll come along without a fight.
but that typically doesn't happen. she pipes up and he sighs, wondering why he'd gotten saddled with someone so talkative. he shoves his phone back in his pocket and takes his jacket off, leaving it in the backseat.
rather not get blood on that. he makes her wait a little longer while he rolls his sleeves up to his elbows and then shuts the car door. ]
Come on. I talk, you stand there and look -- [ well, whatever. pretty? intimidating? innocent? whatever. ] She wants him mostly unharmed.
[ that left him a little leeway. ]
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Somehow I get the feeling the talking's not your favorite part.
[ it's the getaway driving. or maybe the casual torture and/or murder? ]
Who's him? And what parts?
[ does he need to be able to walk? talk? see? daisy wonders how far "mostly" goes. she does her best to sound blase about it. ]
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[ was that enough information? he's tempted to just give her that as he walks towards the building. he doesn't expect much opposition since this man thinks no one knows where his little hidey hole is. so, maybe he'd have one or two guards with him but they'd be easily disposed of. ]
He has the ability to disguise energy signatures.
[ an important ability when you did the things they did. and if carmen wants him, carmen gets him. ]
As for what you can do to him, the answer's nothing. I'll take care of it. [ if asked, he wouldn't say he's overconfident but he doesn't trust her at all. might as well do this quickly and cleanly.
once he's in front of the door, marcos knocks, a gesture of courtesy more than anything else before he tries the knob. locked. easily fixed by using one heavy boot to kick it open.]
Henry! Come on, man, don't make me chase you. I'm tired.
[ there's no answer. marcos turns his head and listens for any sound of scuffling, of scraping, of breathing and then moves further into the small building. ]
Watch the exits. [ at least he's trying to give her something to do? that's big of him. he moves around quietly, picking up various things and putting them down all the while letting his eyes roam.
they settle on a closet at the far end of the room. he moves in closer, settling his hand on the knob and then yanks it open. immediately, there's movement, shuffling and shouting before marcos grabs him by the back of his shirt and hauls him out of the closet. ]
Couldn't even greet us? Pretty rude, Henry.
[ and then he shoves him into a nearby chair and raises a hand, daring the man to move. he doesn't. ]
Now, time to talk.
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it makes something in daisy's stomach twist, bile in her throat. she tries to disguise it as frustration with the man's refusal to cooperate. ]
He's not going to talk to you.
[ the man — henry — doesn't know what to do. he looks at her with confusion, bewilderment in his eyes, and then back at marcos. is this a trick? a game? she can't comfort him, so her tone remains stern, exasperated. as if marcos is the one wasting time. ]
Let me handle him.
[ a hand juts out, palm parallel to the floor, and she raises a brow in challenge. the floor beneath henry's feet begins to rumble, extending outwards towards the walls; after a moment or two, anything not bolted to the ground begins to quiver, the sounds of jostled glassware chiming in the background. ]
Go start the car. Let me do the dirty work, and you can keep your precious boots clean.
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no matter what he thinks of her, he doesn't want to show discord in front of someone else. so, he holds up a finger to her because he is not leaving without instilling to this man just how deadly serious this is. he turns his attention away from her and back to henry, still looking like he might piss himself. ]
Open your eyes.
[ his eyes are already open but marcos wants them to stay that way while he reaches into his pocket for a roll of tape. he's done this before and it works remarkably well as a threat. he's quick about taping each of the man's eyes open and then he brings his hand closer to his face, light pouring from his palm. it's bright enough that he starts trying to blink but can't because of what's on his face.
marcos brings his hand close enough that the man can't not look and holds it there. he knows exactly how long he can do this before he causes permanent damage. been there, done that. ]
If you don't talk to her, I'm going to come back in here and I'm going to take your eyes.
[ not literally. that was gross. he keeps his hands against henry's face for a few seconds longer before he closes his fingers into a fist and turns to go. the look he sends her on the way out isn't pleasant but he thinks it's big that he lets her handle him.
after all, he can come back in if she can't convince the man to come along. so, out to the car marcos goes, leaning against the front of and watching the building curiously. ]
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a hand rests on the back of his chair as she tries to catch her breath, and once she manages, she wipes her mouth with the back of the other. gross. the residue is scraped off onto the chair, and daisy squats down, putting herself at eye level with the man. ]
Whatever you don't tell me? You know what's going to happen. [ the man nods, wide-eyed. whether it's because he understands what daisy won't — can't — say out loud, or because he simply doesn't want to be blinded, is up in the air. doesn't matter, though. ] Tell me.
[ and then, as a show of good faith, daisy rips the tape off. it's not a kind gesture (there's no kind way to do it) but it's not purposefully cruel either, and she does her best to avoid too much pain. it's enough. the man begins to sing like a canary, words crashing over each other, and daisy listens. the mic picks it up, transfers it to headquarters for immediate transcription — they're smart enough to know how to handle it. those people, all the people on that list, will be picked up and moved, transferred to a safe place across the border where carmen and her goons can't get to them. she knows there's a risk. this could out her as a leak, or she could blame it on bad intel. there's no question what will happen to this man as a result — but perhaps she can offer to shoulder that burden for carmen herself, and still get him out. she can't dwell on it, now, though. she has to finish this task first. complete the mission. ]
Stand up.
[ henry stumbles to his feet, still uncertain. it's too easy, too quick. there will be questions if she can do in seconds what marcos could not, and so daisy holds a finger to her lips — say nothing — before leveling a hand at the chair he's vacated. with a squeeze of her palm, the chair rockets backwards, slamming into the far wall hard enough that it cracks apart, plates and glasses from the shelves above raining down from the impact. a struggle in sound, if nothing else. ]
Hands out. [ from her pockets, zip ties. tight enough to secure, not tight enough to injure, his hands secured behind his back. ] Don't do anything stupid. [ if he tries to escape, she can't help him. not in front of someone else. ] Walk. Outside.
[ and thus, they do. she marches him out, into the parking lot, gravel clouds rising under their feet as they meet up with their chauffeur. ]
He's ready. Are you?
[ a challenge, head tilting to the side. ]
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Get in the car.
[ not you, henry. marcos steps forward and grabs his arm, taking him around to shove him into the trunk. it's not a terrible spot since the suv has an open trunk but he pushes him into a laying position and warns him to stay there.
then, he climbs into the car and gets it going, waiting for her to climb in. when she climbs in, his eyes are on her, unblinking and dark. he's curious and he hates that. he wants to know what she did while she'd been in there alone but he doesn't want to show too much interest.
eventually, he pulls his eyes away from her and his the gas. ]
Let's go. [ he's not gonna let himself be intrigued. it's pointless. it was time to go and time to drop her off and let her disappear into the cartel's innards. he's done.
at least he thinks so. ]
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it's done. i took care of it.
how did you like marcos?
i didn't.
that's too bad. you two will look so good together.
will? when?
tonight. i'm having a party, you will come. talk more when i see you.
[ a party. presumably at the guerra family's club, where money flows like water to launder from their more illicit activities. though carmen hadn't complained about her getup earlier, she knows that luck won't hold. ]
I wonder what the occasion is, [ daisy finally murmurs, as if he hasn't been reading the texts the entire time. ] A party for Carmen, and it's not even her birthday.
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[ he can hear henry moving around but as long as he keeps his head down, marcos will let him alone. ]
She does what she wants when she wants to do it. Maybe she woke up in a good mood today. Maybe she bought a new pair of shoes. I don't know. She throws parties a lot.
[ he doesn't remark on the whole 'you will look gos good together' thing. he doesn't know what carmen's playing at but this ends here. in his opinion, this ends here. ]
I'm sure she'll tell you all about it when you see her. [ since they were such close friends and all. ] I'd be careful there if I were you.
[ he doesn't elaborate. ]
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[ women like carmen, women who had power and money and beauty and (believed they had) brains — they took what they wanted and spat it out when they were done. it doesn't take much to think up something carmen might have wanted of the man sitting in the driver's seat. daisy doesn't want to admit why it's so easy to think of it, but it was. ]
I'm sure I can handle her, but if you'd like to play bodyguard, I'm sure she won't complain.
[ not that he really had a choice. if carmen wanted to see them both, she would, and judging by her texts, daisy had a feeling that would be the case. ]
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You don't know what you're talking about.
[ his past was just that -- his. he's not going to share it with someone he doesn't even know. ]
I'm not playing anything. I'll go because it's expected but you're on your own. [ if carmen did to her what she'd done to him, oh well. you took your licks and you kept taking them because that was how it worked here. that was the meaning of loyalty.
he's tired. it feels like he's been going going going the last few weeks and this plus this sudden party just make him feel even more weary. he looks forward to drinking too much and passing out for hours in a little while. ]
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[ carmen seemed particularly chatty. why, daisy's not entirely sure. maybe it's the result of finally having another woman to talk to after years of being surrounded by men. maybe it's just that carmen's an equal opportunity cartel boss and wants to sink her teeth into her newest recruit before she can turn against her. in any case, daisy's fully willing to exploit the situation. ]
We're almost there.
[ she says it mostly for the benefit of henry in the back, whose bumps and adjustments have gotten steadily noisier over the last few minutes. it's not that she knows the area, but the thick iron gates that surround the edge of the property do sort of give it away. as for marcos, she peeks down at her phone one last time before offering a quiet advisory. ]
And just in case you don't want to look like a complete idiot when you explain how some girl whose name you don't know saved your ass, it's Skye.
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Let's get one thing straight, Skye: you didn't save me. I let you handle that because you asked me so nicely. If you hadn't, I would have taken care of it. You saved nothing. Don't come near me again.
[ that was probably not going to happen but he could hope. he's out of the car before she can retort, dragging henry out of the trunk and shoving him towards a building in the back. he'd hand him off to someone else and then disappear until this party tonight.
what a good plan. ]
tl;dr give me that cartel cinderella scene bye
oh well. maybe that'll be the end of things, and he'll have his way. as she provides a recap of their expedition to carmen, though, daisy has to wonder if it'll be that simple. carmen seems all too pleased by her report, even amused at times as daisy recounts exactly how much marcos clearly didn't like her, and when all's said and done, she's thanked for her efforts with a stack of cash larger than anything she's ever seen.
it takes daisy a whole five seconds to remember that the money isn't hers. it's skye's, and whatever skye doesn't need to stay undercover, skye will be turning into the shield administrative offices when all is said and done for reconciling. but for a brief flash of time, it feels nice to hold it in her hands.
after that, things move fairly quickly. she's reminded about the party — mandatory, in all but the name — and the dress code carmen expects; when daisy pipes up that she doesn't even have a car here, since marcos was so kind as to refuse to bring her back to the lot they'd met in, carmen simply shrugs and gestures for one of her assistants to bring something from her closet.
we're the same size, aren't we? no. no, they are not. carmen's tits are twice her size, first off. well, then buy her something. go on. she can't wear that, it's embarrassing.
that's one way to get rid of someone. daisy doesn't protest (can't protest), even as she's shephered to yet another black suv, driven across town to the ritzier end of bogota's shopping district, to a shopfront where armed guards smile at the site of the license plate and pull aside comfortable chairs. it's a bit jarring, but — well. she leaves with a black dress that's more expensive than her undercover alias' monthly rent check and a pair of shoes with which she could both kill a man and auction for cash.
which, as it turns out, is a good outfit. an expensive outfit, but a good one. maybe it will help her get the barman's attention, several hours later at this unavoidable party.
or someone else's. ]
your wish is my command and all that
since he's going to the party, he makes sure that he's dressed appropriately at least. if he's going to make an appearance, he has to be sure not to embarrass carmen especially in light of their history.
so, black on black it is. he rolls the sleeves of the shirt up and makes sure everything is pressed and neat before arriving. marcos does the requisite shaking of hands and even spends
a few minutes chatting with carmen. she asks him about the operation, about skye but he doesn't give her much before finally taking a seat at the bar.
he can still feel carmen's eyes on his back but he ignores that for now. instead, he orders a drink and pulls his phone out of his pocket, checking a few things. it takes him a moment to notice someone beside him but when he does, he's actually taken aback.
he had no idea that face could wear a dress like that. he had no idea she owned a dress like that and he had no idea that he could stare at her for that long after being so angry at just her mere presence earlier.
he clears his throat and turns back to his drink and his phone, scrolling through a few news articles that he is absolutely not reading. ]
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no, she waits until his head swivels back down to his phone, until the false cough of a man clearing his throat after an awkward bout of silence echoes in the small space between them. only then does daisy lean over, head tipping just the slightest bit, to whisper in his ear. ]
You should take a picture. [ a soft chime of laughter, a sip of her drink ] It'll last longer.
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No thanks.
[ fine, he'd been staring. he knows how to appreciate a beautiful woman but it doesn't have to go beyond that. he's appreciated her and now he can go back to scrolling through his phone and trying not to pay attention to her right next to his shoulder. ]
This partying living up to your expectations? [ he doesn't look at her (because that's dangerous when she looks like she does) but he decides to talk to her. doesn't know why. ]
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[ if he wants to play aloof, like he wasn't just trying to bore a hole in her chest from his eyes alone, then she'll let him play aloof. she'll sip at her drink and people watch, maybe wait for someone else with better manners (or any at all) to approach her. ]
No one here knows how to dance.
[ carmen guerra's club boasts a better dancefloor than any other in bogota. on a regular night, hundreds of bodies move on the floor, their cash flowing on the liquor and the private booths and the cover charge at the door; tonight, with carmen's nearest, dearest, and most useful filling the space, there are less dancers and more stand-around-and-talkers, much to daisy's chagrin.
if she has to be here, she'd prefer to have a good time doing so. ]
They're all on their phones pretending not to stare.
[ yeah, marcos. ]
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[ but he does drop his phone on the bar top and swivels around on the stool, turning to look at the dance floor. he's been there a time or two, sometimes with carmen and sometimes with someone else. it's been awhile since he's danced at one of the parties but a few months ago, he was a regular there. ]
Take some initiative and ask around. Find someone to dance with and don't take no for an answer. [ that was his motivational speech for the day. he turns back around and picks up his phone but slides it back into his pocket. ]
Haz que suceda.
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[ she doesn't speak spanish, but she can read tone just fine. curt, dry, dismissive — as if he thinks she'll take his suggestion and turn heel, run away the way he wants her to believe he wants her to? there's no way. ]
Come on, sunshine. [ a hand curves around his wrist, pulling it forward with an insistent tug; as his eyes skim down to her hand and then back up to hers, she offers an opportunity for him to justify this to himself. ] I talked you up to Carmen, you show me your moves.
[ she did not. but she could have. still could, if she really wanted to. ]
I'm not taking no for an answer.
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You don't need to talk me up to anyone. I let my work speak for itself.
[ and he's really not sure how he feels about her speaking to carmen of all people about him. skye doesn't know him, carmen does and if carmen's in her ear, who knows what she's told skye.
but, is he getting up, letting her tug him to his feet with a long suffering sight? yes. ]
And stop calling me sunshine. [ he takes the lead, letting her keep a hold of his wrist as he walks in front of her, weaving through the assembled members of the party and stepping onto the dance floor. he turns to face her and raises an eyebrow. ]
Let's go.
[ his turn to challenge. ]
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