Scents of Romance - Pedro Pascal Imagines And Shots

Fallin' - Part 2 - Agent Whiskey (Jack Daniels)

My eyes barely open, two very thin cracks look around as I try to figure out where I am. My head hurts like hell and in this confusion I think there's some voices coming from nearby, maybe from an adjacent room. What...? I can't figure out what they're saying and neither if they're talking to me or not. I don't even know if they're real or a figment of my imagination. Maybe I'm dead.
Shit, this neon light is really disturbing, my eyes are burning. I try to move a little the fingers of my right hand that I feel so numb, on these white sheets that cover me up to half a torso. This slight humming in my ears it's drilling into my brain, but it seems to be decrease more and more as I try to remember what happened and why I'm here. The monitor that controls my heart rate is beeping at every beat, I look around and it takes me a few minutes to recognize the Statesman's medical room. My tired look falls on the bed next to mine, on a large oxygen tank, on a desk on which there's a computer on and then is captured by the only note of color in the room: a bouquet of flowers, now a little wilted, placed in a glass vase resting on the bedside table next to me. They look like wildflowers...it's a shame I couldn't smell them as soon as they were picked up, I'm sure they used to smell very good. Seeing them makes a strange sensation grow in me, something I can't explain, something I can feel right down my throat. What happened?

"Agent Brandy?"

I don't recognize this voice.

"Oh my God. Brandy? Can you hear me?"

I turn my head a few inches and look at a woman in a white lab coat approach me. Her skin has the color of caramel, her hair is cut into a very short bob and she looks at me from behind a pair of black frame glasses, smiling incredulously in front of what she's seeing. She comes even closer to my bed and takes my hand, smiling softly almost to hold back some tears.

"How are you feeling? You know where you are?"

I nod quietly and she keeps softly smiling at me.

"Hi, Ginger."

Ginger's been taking care of me since day one here at the Statesman. She's always been the only woman in the agency and ever since I was recruited she's treated me like a little sister, taking me under her wing. For my part, I was always ready to draw my guns on the nose of some passing prick who dared to make petty comments about her, putting them back in their places.

"You scared us, you know that?"

I don't know what to say, remaining silent. I just feel so confused. Ginger takes a stool and brings it to the bed, sitting next to me.

"Do you recall what happened that day?"

"What day?"

"The day you had...the accident."

She looks me in the eye and clears her throat.

"You...fell off the roof of a building during the mission that was assigned to you and Agent Whiskey, and..."

"Jack."

His name comes out of my lips like a sigh and I feel something tighten my chest as her eyes soften.

"How is he? He's okay, right?"

Ginger smiles sweetly while her hand caresses mine.

"He's fine. He got away with a bad wound to his shoulder and some bruising. You had a tough time, huh?"

His look.
As I fall.
As I fall.

"Is he...is he in here?"

Ginger's eyes change and for a few moments I can feel her hesitation. It's like she's looking for the right words, like she's...afraid to hurt me.