chick | agent whiskey

003. Mallorca

003. Mallorca

2013

"And what name is the reservation on?" a woman with a subtle Spanish accent asked them, looking at the list of names on her computer screen.

"Miller," Whiskey told her kindly. That was the first time Juniper had ever seen him be nice to anyone.

"Alright, Mr. and Mrs. Miller, these are your keys, don't lose them," the woman joked, handing the pair a key each.

"Thank you." Juniper's fake American accent sounded foreign to her own ears, but when they got to the door of their own room, she got confirmation that she was doing better than she expected.

"Your American accent isn't that bad, where'd you learn it?" Whiskey whispered to her.

"Vodka taught me," Juniper simply said, turning the key in the lock and opening the door.

Agent Gin rolled two of her suitcases in, seeing as Agent Whiskey had taken the other out of politeness and to convince people that they were indeed married. Besides that, they had received wedding bands from the pilot, which they'd slipped around their ring fingers reluctantly.

Coming into the room, the first thing that caught Juniper's eye was the bed.

There was only one.

"Fuck," Juniper cursed, slipping back into her usual British accent. Placing her suitcases by the wall, Whiskey following her actions and spotting what she was looking at.

"Oh for fucks sake, I ain't sharing a bed with you." It seemed like the only thing Whiskey could do was complain about everything.

"What, you think I'm jumping up and down at the opportunity to share a bed with you?" Juniper retorted.

"I'll go back and ask if we can get two separate beds," Whiskey decided, already moving towards the door.

"Wait," Juniper called after him, making him stop in his tracks. "You can't, they think we're married. If you ask them for another room or two separate beds, they might get suspicious."

"First time you've made a decent point," he said, throwing his own bag next to Juniper's suitcases.

"Wow, thanks," she sarcastically muttered back.

"You can take the bed," Whiskey assured her as he unpacked his own bag, hanging a few of his things in the closet.

"And what, you'll take the non-existent couch? Just take the bed, I can sleep on the floor or something," Juniper countered, while she, too, unpacked her suitcases, leaving a few things in them and hanging up the necessities. Indeed, there was no couch in the room, just two luxurious one-seaters, with rich gold decorations. They looked comfortable enough to sit in, but a tad small to have a good nights sleep in.

"I'm not in the mood to argue," he sternly told her. "You're taking the bed."

"My mother told met to respect my elders, so take the bed for god's sake," she argued back, walking into the bathroom to store her toiletries.