"Heads or tails?" He asked nonchalantly, the coin dancing between his fingers.
"Head." She replied, and he raised a brow. The mixture of confusion and surprise in his eyes was doubled, but a cocky grin rose on his lips when she pulled out her gun.
A...
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The mind is indeed a dangerous thing. It could be an ally, or one's biggest enemy.
Currently, the latter proved to be true for Ada. She had somehow convinced herself that the maroon dress clung to her like second skin, when it wasn't. She believed that the straps were too thin, and the slit on the right side trailed far too high.
Ada was never self conscious, nor did she ever doubt her appearance. She simply hated fancy clothing and preferred her work outfit over it any day. One thing she did like were high-heeled shoes. Black Stilettos. She loved wearing them, and the slight feeling of might they provided her.
In essence, she felt powerful.
She held her head up high as the chauffeur pushed on the high end restaurant's doors. The inside was faintly lit with wall lights that gave off an orange-ish yellow glow. The chairs and tables were wooden, so was the floor.
Surprisingly, the place was fairly packed with customers. Some were busy digging into their plates. Others waited patiently for their orders. There was one common theme in the restaurant: a majority of the people were couples.
Ada's fingers tightened around the matching clutch she gripped. Her gun rested inside, and a pocket knife was hidden in her strapless bra as a safety precaution. Her hair bounced by a little with every strut she took towards a man seated all alone on a table. Instead of the usual ponytail, she had let them loose to hang freely down her back.
Ceasar's upper body covered in a white dress shirt, and he was draped over the back of his chair. The sleeves were lazily rolled up to his elbows. His head was tilted towards the ceiling as one of his hands positioned a cigarette inside his mouth. The embers glowed when he took an inhale, and he removed it to puff out smoke. His eyes were shut, as if he were in a euphoria of sorts.
No one objected to him smoking inside a restaurant. He acted like he owned the place- and Ada wouldn't be surprised if he did.
The chauffeur cleared his throat. Ceasar's eyes shot open, and he dropped his head to a side so he could eye the guests that had approached him. The driver nodded as a farewell and turned away to leave.
Ada held his gaze for a moment before she stepped towards the seat opposite to him. The table separating them wasn't too big. It forced them to be close to one another, so much so, their shoes touched had Ada not moved hers away in time.
Ceasar pushed himself upwards so he could perch himself upright. A few rogue strands fell onto his forehead. And from underneath them, he inspected Ada. His seemingly sharpened eyes glazed over her entire form- from the top of her head down to her torso where the table blocked his visual wandering.
