[PREQUEL] (W) ᴜɴᴅᴇʀʟᴀɴᴅ ♗

17| Time is now

More or less security, he even I couldn't bring myself to not admit how he looks tonight.

'' You look good,'' He blinks his kiwi eyes at the mirror, pinning mine for the shortest of moments before the ghost of a dimple appears.

''I know you do''

I felt the spaniard tug at the neck strap a little tighter before looping it around his finger—I assumed. Stepping aside, he squints his eyes every so lightly. His index beneath his thumb before his eyebrow's raise.

''Do you have the strap around your thigh?'' I turned back to 04, shaking my head no.

'' You know I'm still not comfortable,'' And I shouldn't have been. Guns were the element of surprise that quite literally killed the man who reinforced that ideation within an underground setting.

The idea of picking up a handle—even if its safety were on -- would have only pushed me further in a direction I was stalling to lead.

Damien shakes his head softly, '' No no it's alright. You shouldn't be forced to, especially because we don't know if you'll be joining us tonight or heading straight into traffic,''

I tucked my lower lip into my mouth before pivoting back towards the mirror. I took a little glimpse at the freshly dyed dark brown hair that now draped on my head like some sort of curtain.

I never had brown hair before.

And if it was anything besides shampoo, conditioner and black hair-maintenance products—don't expect me to touch it.

I looked a little more than my mother rather than my father with dark hair despite him having far more darker hair than us both. I couldn't pinpoint this new element looking back at me just now.

But I quickly shrugged it off, remembering the can of spray dye in my bag where I would have dampened my blonde roots if I needed it. I felt the dress straps, a faint smile on my lips.

''Reese did a pretty good job at picking the dress,''

He knows I know he knows why I'm changing the subject. It isn't up to waste a perfectly new day—a mission to protect a politician from a western bullet on a thought I'd have forever to figure out and engage in once the martyrs were in custody.

I patted at the thigh high dark-red dress Narissa had offered me. She's given me a set of two, but I figured the closest one within my reach would have done just fine. The fabric had seemed tight, but it was more moveable than most of the outfits I'd remember wearing four years ago. On the waist-band, it stuck onto my body like a second skin. Flesh the way it accentuated every little intricate detail.

I could tell she had Ayumi's best interest in mind when it came to this dress.

She only upped the chances of the politician plucking me among a pack of many other girls he'd be meeting tonight.

But I had to simply remember stepping out on stage had been far more different than planning backstage.

I smack my lips around three times; even with three peaches stuffed into my system, the zyprexa could have still lingered. 

I scour around the bathroom before finding Alderete's closed eye smile, '' She did perfect,'' It was one of the last sour looks we've shared in not only this bathroom, but the establishment that houses it.

I found that silence was an even better conversation at times when it came to the quadruplets. The second eldest held his tongue constantly, but his efforts didn't fall futile when it came to his delivery.