Everyone knows if you want to have a successful career in the field, the person you need to impress is Aaron North. Junior agents clamour all over themselves to be noticed by him, to be put in his unit, to claim him as their mentor.
I think one of the reasons Damon and I became friends was because we both knew the other wasn’t going to be using them as a way of getting close to our respective high-powered relatives. We’ve had more than a handful of agents try their luck at cozying up to us in the hopes of gaining favour with either his father or my aunt.
Suffice to say, it didn’t go well for any of them.
“Did your aunt make you aware of the responsibility you would be taking on with this new role?” North asks, tone mild. I can’t tell if he thinks it was a mistake for my aunt to choose me for this job, or if he’s just being his usual self. He tends to use that somewhat critical tone of voice on all the junior agents, like he doesn’t believe any of us could possibly have the competency he would expect from a top-ranked agent.
It's condescending, but not unusually so, for North. He speaks to Damon the same way. No special treatment there. If anything, Damon gets it worse than the rest of us.
“Yes,” I answer North’s question, not bothering to elaborate. I’ve learnt that my unit leader is not a fan of needless jabber or stuttered, overcomplicated responses. Short and sweet is his preferred style of reply.
“Did she talk to you about what kind of missions you would be undertaking?” North asks, his brows drawing down slightly as if perturbed by something.
“No.” It takes some effort to suppress a frown of annoyance. “I thought that was what we would be doing now.”
North opens his mouth to respond, but before he can, the door to our briefing room opens, and no other than Jack Roth steps inside. He seems to have been escorted by a handful of agents, all of whom are keeping a careful distance from him. As if they think he’ll lash out and bite them or something.
Since Jack isn’t actually a dog, I make a point of looking at them derisively. He might be dangerous, but that doesn’t mean they have to treat him like the bogeyman come to life. It’s ridiculous. Anabelle wouldn’t have let Jack go roaming around the base at all if he wasn’t safe to be let out of confinement, if he was a real threat to people who have caused him no harm.
I turn to Jack and offer him a tepid smile, unsure if too much familiarity will make him uncomfortable. I’m not sure how he feels about me yet, after everything, so I’d rather be careful until I can determine how best to handle our new relationship.
Jack gives me a blank stare in response to my smile, which isn’t exactly atypical behaviour for him from what I’ve seen before, so it doesn’t worry me too much.
He looks just as he did when I last saw him. Beautiful. Devastatingly so. His blond hair is still short, but it’s no longer a straight-up buzz cut. He’s wearing a FISA standard-issue uniform, including the reinforced armour, made from the material created by Rohan. The material is almost impenetrable, able to stand up against bullets and small explosions.
Jack’s eyes are stranger than I remember. I don’t think I’ve met anyone with green eyes quite so pale before. They remind me of a mission I went on in India, where I ran across a white tiger while traveling through a wilder bit of terrain. The white tiger had very similar mint-green eyes. That’s probably why I thought “cat” when I first met him. It wasn’t until later that I made the connection.
I wish we were alone so I could talk to Jack properly. To discuss what’s happened to him since we last saw each other and ask if he’s really comfortable with this partnership.
But North is supposed to be briefing us, and I can’t exactly demand some one-on-one time just so I can hand-hold Jack. He’s my partner, not my ward.
Besides, we should have time to speak later when there isn’t anyone listening in. Our catching up will have to wait.
“You can leave,” North tells the group of agents who followed Jack into the room. They look eager to obey North’s order, but they still hesitate.
Agent Lane, an absolute dickhead I’ve had the misfortune of dealing with before, steps forward and addresses North.
“We’ve been told to stay close to Roth. He’s still on restrictive access and considered a threat to the compound inhabitants.”
“Agent Roth,” North says pointedly, giving Jack the rank he deserves whether this lot think so or not, “will be under my supervision for this briefing. If you feel very strongly about it, you can wait right outside until we’re done.”
It’s a very clear dismissal. One only an idiot could miss.
Lane visibly swallows and takes a stumbling step backwards. He gestures for the others to leave with him.
“We’ll be outside the door if you need us,” Lane says to North, but his eyes are trained on Jack as if it’s supposed to be some kind of threat.
Jack doesn’t turn to look at Lane, keeping his gaze fixed on me.
“Rest assured, Agent 206,” he says in a dry tone. “I will make a valid attempt not to kill anyone for the duration of this meeting. Of course, after that all bets are off.”
I have to press my lips together so I won’t laugh at the look of outright indignance which appears on Lane’s face. If North weren’t here, I’m sure the situation would escalate, but as a superior is in the room, Lane stifles his outrage and storms out with the other agents in tow, all of whom appear similarly vexed. It makes me wonder if Jack was displaying a similar attitude towards them before they arrived.
“Take a seat, Agent Roth,” North orders once the other agents have left and closed the door behind them.
Jack hesitates a moment before sitting down in a seat a couple down from me. Close enough to be part of the discussion, but not so close as to be within accidental touching distance of me.
“Thank you for agreeing not to kill any of us for the duration of our meeting,” I say, flicking my gaze over to Jack, revealing a small smile of amusement.
