Field Research

Mirror, Mirror

He'd had no idea that Diana was in the same city, but there she was, sitting at a corner table next to a handsome guy.

It took a while before the realisation hit. She was on a date.

He immediately lost all interest in continuing his mission. It's been a stupid idea from the start. 47 contemplated sneaking out before she could spot him, before he had to watch them kiss, or worse.

Despite everything, he decided to stay. Heartbreak might be the only cure for this unwanted and unrequited feeling, so he kept watching, taking note of the way she laughed; he hoped that the memory of her hand on her date's thigh would be etched into his brain forever.

47 revelled in the bitter satisfaction of knowing where this date was probably ending tonight.

He didn't stay to make a scene, no, he wouldn't want to embarrass Diana.
She deserved to be happy, she deserved to have someone good in her life, someone who deserved her. Someone who wasn't broken beyond any repair.

47 shoved his empty glass aside and ordered another beer; a more fitting drink for the rest of his night. Normally he wouldn't drink in public, it was too dangerous, left him too vulnerable. It didn't matter.

He told the bartender to keep them coming, which earned him a knowing look and a nod.
The man told him that he was better off without her, but 47 knew that wasn't true, he was nothing without her, nothing but a weapon, a tool.

The lucky guy appeared in his peripheral vision, leaning against the bar next to him, ordering the next round of drinks. His aftershave was way too strong.
47 observed him closely, making sure that he didn't tamper with Diana's drink, but his mind wandered off and imagined those hands on her body.

He felt her eyes on him, he didn't have to turn around or check in the mirror behind the bar to know that she spotted him when her eyes followed her date to the bar.
47 kept his head down, hands around his bottle of beer, eyes on her date's hand; he memorised the name on his credit card, just in case. Diana probably vetted Alec before agreeing to meet him here. Who knew, maybe it wasn't even their first date.

He wondered how Alec had approached her, if it'd been easy for him to make eye contact and smile. Someone like Alec wouldn't need to practice smiling in front of the mirror.

Alec had most definitely told her his real name when he'd introduced himself, and there'd been no need to ask for hers, because she'd introduced herself in return.

They probably had a lot in common, Alec wouldn't have to think of something normal to say; he probably talked about books and movies and true crime podcasts, about his favourite wine that happened to be her favourite wine too; about being a normal person with normal interests and a normal enough upbringing to be able to talk to people without following a step-by-step guide. Alec could trust that he was good enough the way he was.

Alec wouldn't even have to ask for her number or if she wanted to go home with him.

47 downed his beer, drowning bitter thoughts in bitter liquid. It didn't help. His eyes kept wandering to the spot in the mirror where he knew she would be, sitting close to Alec, smiling and laughing and having fun, something 47 knew he could never provide for her.

He noticed the faint scent of lavender before his increasingly sluggish brain caught on.
She was there, standing next to him, and for a pathetic moment he thought that she'd come to spend time with him, but luckily, thankfully he'd kept his head down and his eyes firmly on the bottle in his hands, because when she started to talk, it's not directed at him; she was just there to order the next round for her date.

47 tried to breathe calmly, to appear unaffected, playing a role as always. He wasn't sure if it was working, he felt her eyes on him, but he didn't flinch.
He knew he must've looked pathetic; just a lonely and broken clone without a past and without a future, drinking all alone because he couldn't even manage to find someone who'd be willing to sit next to him and talk. One more reason for her to pity him from that day going forward. As if she needed more.

His hands were slightly shaking, something he hadn't experienced before, so he gripped the bottle a little harder, hoping that was enough to conceal it.
What a disgrace. He recalled how she liked to praise him for his steady hands, something he'd probably never hear her say again.

Her eyes were on him until she collected the drinks; she seemed to hesitate, maybe she wanted to say something, but she walked away and spared him the humiliation of having to acknowledge that she'd seen him like this.

It took a while before he dared to check on her again. She wasn't laughing anymore, only a polite smile here and a nod there.
47 felt terrible for ruining her mood. No wonder nobody wanted him around, he always made everyone feel awkward.

He watched them get up, expecting the couple to head out, but instead they moved to a different table, out of his line of sight.
Diana probably didn't want to have to look at him any longer. 47 nodded to himself, trying to ignore his aching heart. He understood.

Three or four beers later—47 had stopped counting what felt like hours ago—Alec returned to the bar, ordering the next round of drinks with the words 'last one before it's showtime'.

That bastard had no idea how lucky he was; the only thing that stood between him and a very slow, very painful death was the fact that 47 would never do anything that hurt Diana.

He felt awful, tried to focus on the bottle in his hands, but everything around him became increasingly blurry. At least he managed to hold back the tears.

When he turned to look at their table again, he found different people sitting there.
He knew what that meant; Diana and her friend were on the way to do what he really didn't want to imagine her doing with someone else.

47 made eye contact with the bartender, wanted to order another beer, but the man shook his head.

"You've had enough, buddy. Let me call you a taxi." The bartender reached for his phone.

"I'm walking."

Maybe he just needed some fresh air to clear his thoughts.