𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗦𝗜𝗥𝗘𝗡 | 𝗡. 𝗥𝗢𝗠𝗔𝗡𝗢𝗙𝗙

»»» 𝔦.𝔦

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𝐉𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐲 2010

𝐒𝐚𝐥𝐯𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐫 𝐁𝐚𝐡𝐢𝐚 𝐀𝐢𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭

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The setting sun was an anomaly.

The fact that the sky turned pinkish in the leave of the brightest star should be an appropriate cause for question.

When the moon left, the hue of the deepest ocean colored the sky, making way for the magnificent blue that would later grace the day.

But when the sun left, the sky said its farewells in pinks and oranges.

They named the event a sunset. And its unique coloring was given its place within the millions of colors already discovered by the human race.

It was evident that there was a science to this, as there was for most things. But, as Truth Castello gazed out of the window of her small, borrowed car, she thought that the sunset was kind of weird.

Weird in a beautiful way, she thought. The best kind of weird.

Her foot eased onto the gas pedal, just to edge a little closer as she waited with growing impatience for the car in front of her to move.

While there was a science to most things, Truth Castello was not one of those things. People—scientists, those who claimed to be scientists, or even those who thought themselves above the limitations of science—had tried to understand her her entire life, and they all came up with various, complex, superfluous explanations as to why she was the way that she was.

Truth Castello, like the sunset, was an anomaly. The best kind of weird.

And so, in a moment of kinship, Truth watched the sunset while the driver and officer ahead of her argued. While his delivery was rude, the officer's accusation was correct—the driver was under the slight influence of alcohol.

Truth and alcohol had never been the best of friends.

Because alcohol bred liars.

She shouldn't have, especially when she was still working on schooling herself in the art of self-restraint, but Truth Castello was tired, and the tension inside of her was building and building and building, and she had a ride waiting for her.

So she turned towards the driver, her eyes aimed at the back of his head despite the headrest blocking him from her vision.

Diga-lhe a verdade.
Tell him the truth.

The driver didn't lie this time.

"Eu estou bêbado," he said. "Tenho uma garrafa de uísque no compartimento de luvas."
I am drunk. I have a bottle of whiskey in the glove compartment.

And so, the liar paid for his lies and the truth won yet again. Triumphant, Truth flashed her I.D. at the officer and passed through the gate without an issue. It was a false, but not everyone played by their own rules.

The jet procured for her extraction was a small thing—not like S.H.I.E.L.D.'s usual quinjets. Grabbing her bag from the passenger seat—not even a quarter of all that she had acquired in Salvador—, she walked towards the agent waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs.

"Nunca pensei que diria isso a um superior," she said, a small smile on her lips, "mas é bom ver o seu rosto."
I never thought I'd say this to a superior, but it is good to see your face.

Agent Phil Coulson furrowed his eyebrows and Truth's smile grew as she chuckled.

"Sorry, Coulson. The Portuguese is going to be a little hard to shake."

Agent Coulson returned her smile, stepping aside for her to walk up the stairs. 

"So long as I get a few translations here and there, I think we'll manage."

After putting away her luggage, Truth plopped into the co-pilot seat beside Coulson with a pillow and a blanket, getting comfortable as he prepared the jet for take off.

"Congrats, by the way."

Truth raised an eyebrow at him.

"All anyone talks about back home is how you successfully turned the Nove Vidas, Brazil's most infamous mafia, into a ghost story single-handedly in under five months."

Truth gave him a little shrug. 

"Technically, it was Brazil's only mafia. And, I didn't feel like overstaying my welcome. The eight months the Director gave me was generous, at least."

Coulson stared at her, and she stared back, her face showing hints of amusement. Then he snorted, shaking his head as his attention returned to the control panel.

"If that's what you call it, kid."

Truth's amusement quickly turned impassive.

"Don't you think I grew out of that five years ago?"

Coulson shook his head again as he started the engine and answered honestly.

"Not at all."

Truth rolled her eyes and shifted in her seat, leaning her head sideways to lay on her pillow.

"Why'd you sit up here if you were just going to go to sleep?"

Truth shrugged, her mind already shutting down, the soft hum of Coulson's mind lulling her into slumber.

"Thought I'd keep you company," she mumbled.

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