Contagious || Ghost x Fem

𝐄𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠

"Serpent, a minute?" Price called over to you. You excused yourself from Isabela's company with a promise to return shortly, though her parting smile hinted at a lingering interest. As you made your way to the booth where Price awaited, you couldn't help but roll your eyes at the interruption. "One sec," you assured Isabela before approaching Price. "Yes?" you inquired, expecting another mundane inquiry.

"Anything yet?" Price queried, his tone low with anticipation. You leaned in, speaking in hushed tones. "It's a party. Sin Nombre is hosting it," you revealed, your words carrying a weight of significance. Alejandro's eyes widened in recognition. "Ah! That makes sense. There's usually one of these every couple of months," he remarked, connecting the dots of this clandestine gathering. Price nodded thoughtfully, his mind already formulating plans based on this newfound information. "Alright, keep mingling, but be careful," he advised, his voice tinged with concern. "We need to gather as much intel as we can without drawing attention."

You nodded in agreement, acknowledging the importance of discretion in such a precarious situation. Returning to Isabela, you found her still seated at the bar, her gaze fixated on you expectantly. "Sorry about that," you said, sliding back onto the stool beside her. "Where were we?" Isabela's smile widened, sensing an opportunity to resume your conversation. "I believe we were discussing where you're from," she remarked coyly, her eyes glinting with curiosity. "Tell me more about you." 

"I'm from Manchester," you replied casually, noting the slight raise of Isabela's eyebrows. "I knew there was something other than American in your voice," she observed, her gaze lingering on you with a mix of intrigue and amusement. It seemed she was trying to unravel the layers of your identity, a task you found both thrilling and nerve-wracking in equal measure. "What about you? Where are you from?" you inquire, shifting the focus of the conversation away from yourself. Isabela's expression softens as she reminisces, "I've been here my whole life. It used to be better here, kids could safely play outside." Her words carried a hint of nostalgia, tinged with the somber realization of how things had changed over the years.

As the evening progressed and the alcohol flowed more freely, the atmosphere grew hazy with the warmth of intoxication. "So why is your husband not over here?" you ask, genuine concern lacing your voice. Isabela takes a shot before responding, her tone tinged with bitterness, "I'm more of a prop to him." Your eyebrows furrow with empathy as you process her words. "Why don't you get out of all this then?" you propose, the alcohol emboldening your curiosity. She meets your gaze, shaking her head in resignation. "And go where?" Her response is laden with the weight of a reality that offers her little in the way of escape.

As the conversation deepens, you lean in closer, your voice low and earnest. "I could get you out of here," you offer, your words carrying a sense of urgency. Isabela's laughter is tinged with skepticism. "To Manchester? I don't think I'd fit in there," she responds, her tone tinged with amusement. You shake your head, a determined glint in your eyes. "No, I mean out of all this. I could give you protection," you propose, the gravity of your offer underscored by the weight of the situation. 

Isabela's hand finds yours, her touch warm and reassuring. "I appreciate your willingness to help, but it's best if you don't get involved with these people. It's messy," she cautions, her voice carrying a hint of concern. You nod in understanding, feeling a pang of guilt for even suggesting such a risky proposition. However, her next question lifts the heaviness of the moment. "Can you dance?" she asks, a playful glint in her eyes. A smile tugs at your lips. "I can," you reply with confidence. "Then let's go, my favorite song is playing," she says, her enthusiasm contagious as she leads you onto the dance floor.