Freedom Day

Chapter 14 - "Poor Fools"

Downtown Fayetteville, North Carolina
La Marquis Restaurant

Day 16

...

All of this seemed like a dream.

"You know Ethan, this wasn't the place I had in mind...", Emily complained, shifting in her seat. "...Last time you and Gabe brought me here, I had indigestion."

"*sigh* I still don't have my signing bonus, remember?"

"Wait, that one wasn't a joke?"

"Yeah. So unless you wanna take out that fat purse of yours... This is the best I could do. Take it or leave it."

He punctuated his complaint with a quick sip of water. This woman still had the nerve to complain about his tastes, despite this dinner being his treat, but he let it slide. He focused instead on more trivial stuff like the dumb house music or his suit and tie. The latter was quite a peeve for him; the pair he picked for tonight was not exactly the best in this week's wardrobe. Times like this, he would usually wear his dress uniform or rent a nice black coat from the nearest shop. A fine dinner suit, or God-forbid a tuxedo, was never something he thought he'd need in his line of work.

While he hated the formal wear, at least he blended in with the rest of the restaurant's patrons. All of them following the same dress code as if tonight was a second-rate cocktail party. La Marquis served French food like Emily had wanted, but the quality didn't compare to those trendy restos in Virginia Square. Money, money, money... Team Rainbow's stipend was not as high as he'd hoped. Perhaps that wasn't the point. Ethan already had better hazard pay and life insurance than his peers in the Army, and he would be such an ungrateful bastard to ask for more.

"Hmph. I also expect a wardrobe upgrade from you next time. Who'd you have to kill to wear that crap?"

"Some redhead who kept shitting on other people's style.", he replied with a fake smile.

She giggled at his lame joke. He half-expected her to be way out of her element tonight, considering that this place didn't placate to her stupid Upper Midwest tastes. But she nonetheless defied predictions. She filled out her dark, low-cut dress like it was nobody's business. She smelled of perfume and skin lotion, same as his wife, back in the good old days. Her lips were painted in a deep shade of red and her ears were adorned by diamond teardrops, likely a thousand-dollar each. It was a bit weird seeing her like this, all dolled-up. Tonight, Emily Jacobsen looked nothing like a Case Officer for the CIA's Special Activities Division.

"Hey... I hope you don't mind...", she started another conversation. "...But I did some digging about your friend in San Antonio."

"Who?"

"The brunette. You know, the cute one we had to..."

She trailed off, hoping for Ethan to get the message. Which he did, judging by his slightly slack-jawed expression.

"Oh... Well, this is kinda awkward don't you think?"

"Woah, woah... Hold your horses.", she held up a hand. "I didn't find anything. No name, no face match, no NSA-record... She's not American, isn't she?"

"She's French. An Operator, just like me. That's all you need to know."

"Ah, a kindred spirit. No wonder you like her."

"E-Excuse me?"

He widened his eyes for a moment. The redhead grinned like a tease, relishing how he tried not to stammer with his words. Ethan was caught completely off guard, forcing him to feel a tinge of warmth in his face.