⁂ 𝐴𝑡𝑜𝑚𝑖𝑐 𝐶ℎ𝑒𝑐𝑘𝑚𝑎𝑡𝑒 #1 | 007 story

#008 |𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑛𝑑 𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑠

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The flat roamed in emptiness. The large living room hugged the two sofas that were resting in its center, heavy-looking boxes by their sides. The TV was holding books as prisoners, keeping it up and off the floor. The rest was put against the wall. James preferred to move away after the incident. He lost someone he deeply loved and cared about, all because of a stupid decision he had to make, and staying in familiar places brought only those memories to the surface, memories he was trying to burry away. He never told anyone before that he had an affair with someone. And he doubt he will.

"Don't mind the boxes. Make yourself home." The agent spoke taking off his jacket. He threw it on the floor as it surely won't be used again and headed to what seemed to be the bathroom. Not long after, the distant falling water sound echoed in the silent flat. Layla had no idea on what to do in the meantime but her curiosity got the best out of her. She gave the papers on the table a look; food orders receipts, two glasses, torn envelopes, a book written in a big title "The Kiss Of The Cobra". Nothing important. Lay then checked the already open boxes where most of them had clothes and books.
"What a reader." She spoke to herself, smiling slightly, now making her way to the kitchen to get herself some water.
The kitchen was spacious yet had nothing too; a fridge on the left side, some already used plats and glasses in the sink and a pizza box on the counter. "Can't drink my thing and he gets to eat this stuff?" She thought, getting on her toes to open the cupboard hoping to find a clean glass. To her surprise her fingers caught something else : letters and pictures.
"To my dear Irene.." The name on the letter said. Lay frowned her eyebrows when she saw the pictures that showed James with his tall blondie either holding each others or kissing.
"Oh my G-" And before she could speak another word, she heard the bathroom's door open. An immediate adrenaline push rushed in her body, quickly throwing the pictures and letters in the cupboard and closing it.

"What are you doing here?" James's form in the darking time spoke, his face lighted only a bit by the light of the living room's lamp.
"Nothing, was.. just getting myself a drink." She tried to calm herself down after being startled, holding an innocent mask on.
"Bottles are on your right, behind you. Whisky would be lovely though." His perfume suddenly kicked in between the dusty smell. Something with an oriental fragrance that enhances exceptional raw materials: french lavender, sambac jasmine, sandalwood and vanilla tahitensis. Lay's guess is on Guerlain.
As she watched him step away, a towel around his waist, she let out a breath she didn't know was holding, quickly getting them an already open bottle of whisky.
W

hen she made it back to the room, James already had his trousers on, his back turned to her. Her brown curious eyes ran across it, looking at the few past scars and the recent looking bruises. He must have got those from their mission.
Layla took a seat and poured the golden liquid into the glasses, watching him dress up. His shoulder's wound was healing way better than she expected and that did reassure her.
"You seem silent than usual. Something on your mind?" James broke her bubble of thoughts, buttoning up his shirt.
"Oh. No, nothing really." She paused trying to find another reason to connect her silence with. "Just re-thinking the mission over."
"Well you must cherish this free time of yours." He left two buttons open just to feel more comfortable and sat in the other sofa, taking a glass.
"Right. Free time." She took a sip of her drink, looking down. James seemed different than what he usually is and she didn't mind it. He looked more wise and 'grown-up'. Was he like this with whoever this Irene was? But who was she? Did she die or did they just split up?
"Layla, does your presence here disturbs your frame of mind?" He didn't know what was wrong with her with how she's acting.
"No no, of course not. I kinda like it." She answered taking a glup from her whisky. "Even if it's empty."
He smiled and rested his back on the sofa, his gaze softening. "Just moved in recently."
"Why?" She asked, holding the glass a few inches from her mouth. Silence joined their conversation for solid seconds. James seemed uncomfortable, staring down at his drink.
"Work reasons." He answered sounding not even convinced by his own response. "So, are you and Barlowe still a thing?"
Layla gave him a glare placing her glass down. There it is. That fire starting in his deep blue eyes once again..
"Nope. We're just some kind of close friends to be honest." She said her finger playing with a fallen curl. "And does the prominent 007 have a love life?"
He laughed, moving his head. He loved when she calls him things; either positive or negative. "No, he doesn't."

The large windows got pinched by water falling from the sky, rain falling like God's own poetry; each drop is a single letter in a song that takes eons to sing. it is the bringer of brightness to every hue of bark and leaf. The two agents were feeling nice, having a drink in such a peaceful ambiance, away from bullet sounds and sweat smell. But unfortunately that didn't last for long.
James's phone rang, causing him to express his annoyance in a heavy sigh.
"Bond."
Layla finished her glass meanwhile, watching the rain turn the windows' glass into a piece of art.
"They opened the key. Q's waiting for us." He hung up after hearing what the speaker had to say. James stood up, finished his glass and put on a black suit jacket that missed being ironed.
"Hope we get something interesting out of it." Lay said on her way of leaving his flat.

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