Manners Maketh Man [Yelena Belova X Male Reader]

Still The Life of The Party...

Y/N arrived at the meeting in his classic Jag.

As he stepped out he locked it and put the keys in his tuxedo pocket. He was wearing a midnight blue tuxedo with a black bowtie and a pair of oxfords, not brogues.

On his face was a photostatic veil, or at least an updated model from the one Natasha wore to hide her identity in the Triskelion incident.

"Good evening sir, might I see your invite?" A man said as he waited by the door, Y/N pulled out the invite and handed it over to him, looking around, his glasses transmitting his view to Yelena and the rest of the team. "Okay, sir, enjoy the event."

"Thank you." Y/N said calmly as he walked into the large building. "I'm in."

"Copy. Lena, are you in position?"

"In position and on standby." Yelena said over the radio as she looked through the scope of her sniper.

Y/N looked around and saw all manners of people, from the rich and famous, to the not as rich, and infamous.

"Flag smashers." Price stated over the coms as Y/N walked through the crowd.

"Yeah, here, you clocking this?" Y/N whispered as he turned slightly to look and see Ross/Shepherd.

"He's not the target, we can't risk losing Makarov. I want him as bad as you do, but if we don't stop Makarov, it won't just be Ghost who we lose."  Price said as Y/N gave a hum. 

"Copy, but if I get the chance to take him out as well, I'm not missing out on it." Y/N remarked as he walked up to a waitress, noticing a red square tattoo behind one of her ears, he was quick to take a drink from her tray and give a charming smile. "Thank you."

Y/N looked at the drink as his glasses scanned it before he drank it, making sure it wasn't spiked.

"Lena, recognize her?"

"I recognize half of those waitresses, widows."

"Yeah. Dreykov's operating here as well." Y/N muttered to himself as he looked around, keeping an eye out for Makarov and Dreykov.