Nightswan

NaNo - Day 17

- Alessio -

Vasilisa left the next morning, and the whole environment of the apartment changed. He didn't know how he'd lived here before she had joined him. He felt like he needed to crank up the thermostat to replace the warmth she'd taken with her. Enough of that, though; he had work to do. He and Vasilisa actually left at the same time; Alessio to his office, and Vasilisa to Thaddeus and Liliana's. They'd be going somewhere after Thaddeus finished all his meetings today. Alessio didn't know their final destination, but it was better that way. No way for him to tell anyone the location of his wife, not even if Total Eclipse tried to torture it out of him.

It ached that he had to think about that sort of occurrence now. He'd always been conscious to the danger of his work with the Flight, but never so much as when he had someone else he had to consider. Because they'd go after her, he didn't doubt it. If they knew where she was, it was all over for him...which was exactly why he couldn't let that happen.

Alessio went through his own workday only halfway paying attention, but that was really all he needed. Luckily, there wasn't much going on, and he was probably the most dedicated man his supervisor had. Alessio doubted the older man even knew how much Alessio did. If he thought the group's reports were bad when they arrived at his desk, he should've seen them before Alessio edited them. There wasn't always much to do in the Army, so he'd read quite a bit...which meant his knowledge of proper grammar seemed exponential when compared to the rest of the population. He expected adults to be able to write better, but apparently he was wrong in that regard. Professional products meant no contractions, no informal jargon or phrases, and no use of "you." He'd spent hours correcting one of their reports once; his coworkers clearly had impressed during interviews. Either that, or someone else had written their cover letters and résumés, because the work they produced was absurd.

He had a headache by the end of the day. The last thing he wanted to do was cook. Alessio tossed his bag down by the front door, loosened his tie, and opened the refrigerator. The apartment was too quiet, the air stuffy like it hadn't circulated in days. He was struck again by just how different it was without Vasilisa, and he wanted her back. But he couldn't have her back for a few days, so he might as well deal with it. Opening the vegetable drawer revealed a "salad in a bag" from the local grocery store down the street. He pulled it out and tossed it on the counter. Looking in the refrigerator again, he smiled as his gaze fell on the plastic container of soup sitting on the front shelf. Vasilisa must've defrosted it and left it for him. He pried open the lid as he shut the door. Chicken tortilla—his favorite.

His smile widened as he spooned out some of the round container's contents into a bowl and heated it in the microwave. The salad, he'd save for a different day. It didn't take him long to finish the soup, as he realized while slurping it down that he hadn't eaten lunch. On top of that, he'd learned to eat quickly in the Army. Never knew if your meal would get interrupted by someone yelling at you, or by gunshots. If he were honest, he actually preferred the latter. He'd rolled off the occasional verbal abuse in the Army, but that didn't mean he liked it.

After he changed into something less conspicuous, Alessio left the apartment as soon as the sun had gone down. The elevator ride was harder this time, but he blamed that on nervous energy rather than the fact Vasilisa wasn't with him...or at least, that's what he was going to tell himself. He traveled through the underground tunnel system for the subway, swiped his card at the turnstile, then entered the first train to the south side of Manhattan that arrived. There were a few tourists scattered throughout the car; they had maps in front of them, pointing at different sites and circling others. As long as they stayed out of his way, he'd tolerate tourists. They provided revenue to the city, after all, and New York City may not be known as "the city that never sleeps" without them.