Field Research

Freeform Training

The room was too bright, it was the first thing he noticed when something woke him from his dreamless sleep. It took a while before he knew where he was, still unusually drowsy and confused. He must've overslept.
The doorbell rang again. Shit.

47 cringed when he tried to sit up and found his briefs around his knees and his hand sticking to his stomach.
He wiped his hand clean on the sheets before he climbed out of bed, pulling his briefs up while reaching for his silverballer under the pillow.

Warily he left the small bedroom and padded towards the door, where the ringing had stopped. Instead, whoever was waiting outside knocked two, three, four times, followed by "Are you there?"

"Diana?" 47 froze. He couldn't let her see him like this, in his underwear, residue of his sad attempt to comfort himself to sleep on his stomach.

"May I come in?"

"One moment." He checked through the peephole to make sure she was alone, before he crossed the room to put his gun down on the coffee table, wrapping himself in the blanket from the couch on his way back to the door.

"I didn't expect visitors today," he explained as he opened the door for her.

"Am I interrupting something?" She sounded worried, and her eyes fixated on the bare skin of his chest; Diana must've realised that he wasn't wearing anything underneath, that he'd only just woken up, whereas she was looking prim and proper as always.

"Come in," he mumbled, gesturing towards the couch, "I just need a moment to take a shower."

47 hoped it was appropriate, but she smiled and nodded, so he hurried to the bathroom to clean up his mess and be more presentable.

The mirror showed him a miserable version of himself; red-rimmed eyes staring back at him, tired and disapproving.
He gritted his teeth under the cold shower, no time to wait for the water to turn hot. Diana shouldn't have to wait for him.
47 felt better after the shower and with freshly brushed teeth; more awake, less pathetic. A dollop of moisturiser on his face and a spritz of aftershave and he considered himself almost human enough to face Diana.

He rushed to the bedroom, towel around his hips, hoping she wouldn't look up to see him essentially naked.

When he stepped back to the living room, wearing simple black trousers and a white shirt, he found her sitting on the couch, flipping through his guidebook on flirting and finding love.

47 felt the heat rushing to his face. He should have hidden the book before opening the door.

"Why are you here?" he asked. It sounded more confrontational than intended. "Is something wrong, do you need help?"

She looked up at him.

"I saw you in that bar yesterday, and I thought..." she trailed off. "I don't know, I just thought I'd come by."

He cocked his head, unsure what to say.

Diana placed the guidebook back on the coffee table and patted the couch next to her, inviting him to sit down with her.

He complied, of course he did. Their knees accidentally touched when he sat down, and he avoided eye contact when he whispered an apology.

"I thought it might be a useful skill," he said, gesturing towards the guidebook. "Gives us more options to approach a mission."

She probably saw right through it, but she nodded.

"Did you have a nice evening, 47?" She sounded almost sad.

"That wasn't my objective."

"Why not? I bet you'll be good at it." She had an odd expression on her face; he couldn't quite place it, but supposed it was pity.