Staring

/w
Arthur Kirkland couldn't stand America any more. Okay, maybe that was a bit of an exaggeration, but, really, sometimes he couldn't any more. He was driving on some interstate, I-270, (why did it have 13 lanes, for god's sake), in some American state that he probably couldn't name nor point to on a map, immensely grateful for the existence of navigational apps, else he'd be lost in the foreign country, when he suddenly felt eyes on him.
They were in slow traffic, barely moving at all. He turned his head to his left, finding a blond man in the passenger seat of a red truck. The man driving looked very similar to the man staring at him, and seemed to be ignoring him. Arthur couldn't help but feel creeped out, and for good reason. Why was this bloody American staring at him creepily? It didn't help that he was in very unfamiliar territory, had been driving for who-knows-how-long after presumably taking a wrong turn that got him onto the interstate in the first place, and had previously just gotten out of an eight-hour flight. Honestly, why didn't his work book a flight for an airport closer to Washington D.C., instead of Montgomery County Airport, wherever the bloody hell that was.
If they had, maybe this creep wouldn't be staring at him.

"Y'know, Mattie, wouldn't it be funny if I just stared at a random person? It's not like I'll see them again," Alfred F. Jones babbled to his brother. He had been sitting in the car for a while, too long according to Alfred, and was starting to get bored.
"Y'know, Al, what if you didn't? God, do you have no shame?" Alfred was suspiciously quiet after that, not even bothering to respond. "Oh my god, Alfred, you're doing it, aren't you?" He groaned, not even wanting to turn his head to confirm what he already knew.
"I plead the fifth!" He exclaimed like the true American he was.
     "You should exercise your right to be silent more often," Matthew quipped. His brother let out a dramatic, loud gasp of offense. He seemed to finally take his eyes off the poor stranger that was subjected to Matthew's impulsive brother, though he didn't look to confirm it. At least he'd have plausible deniability if the person tried to press charges (something, something, beyond a reasonable doubt, and something, something, Twelve Angry Men). Thank god the traffic started to let up.
     "How dare you! I'll have you know, the First Amendment exists, too!"
     "Clearly the Founding Fathers didn't think of people like you. How does someone like you work for the government?" Alfred pouted (loudly, unfortunately for Matthew) the rest of the ride into D.C.

     Arthur was at least grateful that the meeting was at a somewhat reasonable time, 2:00 p.m. They probably didn't schedule that with the British diplomats that would be present in mind, but he wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. He got up at 12:00 p.m. due to his exhausting travels and jet lag, much later than he normally would have, but it still left him with plenty of time to eat breakfast (or lunch, rather) and leave for the British Embassy. He wished he didn't have to drive. That was something he was used to. Americans and their bloody cars, for god's sake, you can walk! He would not get used to how small the footpaths were - or, rather, sidewalks - either.
     Arthur took a breath and got back on track: getting showered, dressed, and eating something. He picked out a nice business suit of his, paired with a white tie. While he got ready, he was only reminded of how nice the hotel was. He was glad he wasn't the one paying for it, though he didn't look at the price just for peace of mind.
     It was only a ten minute walk to the parking garage (ironically enough, it was named Colonial Parking - Arthur even allowed himself to chuckle at the irony a bit). From there, it was a less-than-twenty minute drive to the Embassy. He arrived with a decent amount of time until the meeting would start, so he, like many others, busied himself with some tea before sitting down at the table. There were a few others also sitting at their seats, mingling with whomever was next to them. Just about a minute before the meeting started, when most were either at their seat or moving to their seat, the door burst open, revealing... oh god. Him!?
     To his horror - and the apparent horror of the man who had been staring at him - the man who had been staring at him took his seat right next to Arthur.
     Small, bloody world, Arthur thought, hoping the man wasn't stalking him. Of course, if he were just a random person, he wouldn't have been able to get into the meeting room, and oh fuck that made it worse. Either Arthur was being stalked by an American government worker, who must have been at least a little high up, or someone had just broken into a government building. However, Arthur saw his credentials tucked away in his suit pocket, so he probably didn't break in.
     "So, uh, hi, I'm Alfred F. Jones!"