Waffles and Betrayals - ENG

Chapter 3

Warning!

Use of profane language. Description of sensitive topics such as harassment, violence, psychological stress. Use of black humor.

If you are sensitive to these topics, I advise you not to proceed further.

If you're a fan of Philip Graves, know that he's not my favorite, and in this story, he will be treated poorly.

I apologize for my prolonged absence, but I'm currently going through a rather stressful period in my life from every perspective, both physically and mentally. But know that every day I think of those who support me. Thank you for everything!

***

Simon knew he wasn't infallible. That's precisely why he relied on plans, probabilities, and statistics. He did his best to avoid surprises, despite the nature of his work.

Even in the chaotic world of counter-terrorism, there was a pattern that Simon had by now memorized.

Everything worked like a series of gears, which operated together to achieve a single goal: "peace."

Research was conducted, phone calls were intercepted. Some things happened in broad daylight, but for others, you had to dig deeper.

And when the light at the end of the tunnel was finally visible, Kate Laswell would call Price, who would then assemble the Task Force.

This would set off a long series of plans, until Simon was called upon to do what he did best: kill.

The certainty of being just a small cog in the machine gave him the energy to continue the farce he called life. Killing was just another item on the long list of things that made up his daily routine.

A straight line that had never ceased to be efficient for years. What could be said? Buildings could explode, rockets could fall from the sky; the world could burn, and Simon would remain unmoved, completely anesthetized after years of service. He knew that, one way or another, he would always make it back home.

Maybe that's why he'd been guilty of pride that evening.

When he saw Lenora cry and then suddenly shut herself off within her emotions, Simon felt strange. It took a good dose of self-control to stuff it all back inside, showing nothing but coldness right after.

He found it curious; perhaps even intriguing, but he would never admit that.

From then on, he didn't think much more about it. He only knew that beneath that wall of indifference, there was a problem, and what he'd seen was enough to push him not to turn away.

Instinct led him to break the rule of minding his own business. He just knew he wanted to do something, even if he had no idea how to act.

He was aware that the chances of success were slim, given that he wasn't a master in social situations, much less emotional ones. But he never imagined that such a small gesture of care would blow up in his face like a bag of crap.

What a rash move he'd made. Did he really think he could pull it off? Especially after the unfortunate comment with which he'd decided to approach?

He'd thought little about the weight of his own words, especially about the effect they would have. He'd been guilty of pride, precisely at the moment he took for granted that nothing disastrous could ever happen.

For all he knew, Lenora had spent years chasing the bulky shadow of that idiot Scotsman, willingly accepting every prank, every betrayal, and every bit of suffering he caused her. Why would she ever react badly to Simon's words?