Honey Springfield was called the Handlers 'favourite' - a nickname she despised right down to the bones of her very existence - almost as much as she despised the woman herself. No one ever looked closer enough to realise that it was given to her fo...
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When Honey was told to keep an eye on their new recruit Five Hargreeve's, she didn't necessarily have a problem with it. People watching was a long-time hobby of hers, something she was good at - getting to know people while skipping past all of the actual talking - it came easy.
Especially when, from the outside, people generally wouldn't bat an eye at her. She was average in most ways and kept to herself, staying for the most part unnoticed, save for what the commission staff already knew about her.
The thing about Five Hargreeve's was that he was an observer too. From a past of being forced to notice things for the sake of his own survival. And this made things difficult.
What also made things difficult, was that the rumours about her being the Handler's favourite weren't exactly in her favour. Because it would have taken him less than a week to figure it out, and given the fact she had a feeling he was hiding something, he would do all it took to keep himself away from her no matter what.
After a day of reporting to the Handler that he was avoiding her like the plague as though he knew, to which the Handler had scoffed and told her to try harder - Honey found herself eating her lunch when something very out of her usually mundane routine occurred.
She was sitting in her usual spot, a bowl of fruit salad in front of her. Her lemonade and straw sat next to it and a plastic fork was in her hand and she was midway chewing a piece of honeydew melon when the chair opposite her scraped across the floor. A dark blur of a figure moved into her peripheral, and she met the eyes if the very boy (man?) In question.
The only thing was, he was initiating contact with her; which was out of the ordinary for anyone in the commission, and very out of the ordinary for someone as stoic and work-orientated as Five Hargreeves.
"Have you been stalking me?"
She paused, then, unable to hide the flash of surprise crossing her face at his intrusion. She liked her lunch in the quiet back corner of the cafeteria undisturbed, and this wasn't that.
Her eyes locked onto his emerald green ones, piercing right through her skull.
The teenager opposite her sat slightly hunched forwards with icy eyes fixed on her brown ones. He had his hands clesped infront of him and she had a perfect angle to spit the flash of dark ink at his inner wrist. It was faded and shaped like an umbrella, and she struggled to pull her eyes away from it as she forced herself to get back to what he had just accused her of.
Honey's eyes flickered back up to his face, where she placed her fork down neatly beside her bowl.
"Yes."
The boy across from her blinked once, as though not expecting her brutal honesty. Her tone was even and calm, and she caught the way his dark, sharp eyebrows drew in just a fraction, eyes narrowing slightly. (He also hadn't expected a british accent.)
