Work Text:
47 straightened his cufflinks as he discreetly exited the stall where the drowned remains of the 3rd target would not be found for hours.
“Well done, 47. All targets are down and the money is being wired to your account,” Diana reported through his earpiece. “I heard Le Chuffre boasting about the El Camino he left with the valet. Looking for a fast exit?”
Diana looked at 47’s reflection through the video feed of his contact lenses on her workstation. He nodded into the bathroom mirror, showing the ticket he took from Le Chuffre before returning it to his pocket.
She smiled, leaving her workstation for the kitchen where she had a chilled bottle of wine as a celebration of another job well done. She opened the bottle to let it breathe. “You’ll look quite fitting driving off in that. And that suit is rather dashing, it’s a shame you don’t get invited to weddings very often.”
“To be fair, Tobias Rieper received the invitation.”
“True, but it’s more traditional to bring a plus-one, not reduce the attendance of the wedding party.” He hummed an affirmative. She returned to her workstation to confirm the wire transfer, then returned to 47’s video feed.
47 left the restroom and returned to the large reception hall, staying closer to the walls to avoid detection from cameras and overly curious party guests. Not much attention was being paid to him as the couple began their first dance in the center of the room, cell phones focused on the show on the dance floor.
Diana noticed 47 looking at the newlyweds for seconds longer than necessary. “What are you thinking, 47?”
47 looked away from the couple as he neared the exit, heading through the conference lobby towards the valet station. “It’s—odd to me.”
“What is?”
She could hear 47 hesitating over the line. 47 grew to trust Diana, she knew, but at times he struggled to find the right words to convey his thoughts. They had worked together for two years, but only so much could be properly conveyed in long-distance communication, and from a man who was trained to not develop or divulge in human emotions.
“Human connections, I think. Relationships and the like. I don’t understand them.”
Diana didn’t answer, mulling over 47’s words. She decided it was time to have a rather large glass of that wine.
47 greeted the valet and gave him the ticket. The young man nodded and ran towards the sea of cars for the El Camino. The other valets were chatting 20 meters away on a smoke break, not expecting many guests to leave for another two hours. He watched them as the wedding band echoed from behind the lobby doors.
“I don’t understand how people connect to each other,” he said quietly. “How to start a conversation. I wouldn’t know where to begin.”
Diana took a long swig of the sweet red wine. “Our line of work doesn’t tend to let others get closer to us.”
He chuckled softly. “If they do, they don’t usually get to walk away.”
“True,” she nodded. She heard the El Camino’s engine purr as the valet supplied 47’s exit. He thanked the valet and left the lot behind quickly as the audio feed punched with the changing of gears.
Diana walked out on the balcony overlooking the street in the Sapienza safe house. Both locals and tourists were already engaged in enjoying the holiday weekend as the night life was buzzing below. Live music was playing in the square, competing with the delighted sounds of the crowd that were swaying to the music or cheering at the occasional burst of fireworks. Diana could hear soft giggling from the street below, where it seemed a couple was sharing an intimate moment away from the concert nearby.
Diana began to feel very lonely, and may have started to venture into self-pity if it weren’t for her agent in her ear possibly having a silent existential crisis.
“When is the next mission?” asked 47 without much emotion. Other than the occasional gear shift and engine revving, his communications were now decidedly less noisy than on Diana’s end. But that quiet was stifling him and he needed to focus on the next task.
“We have a handful of contracts that need some further reconnaissance before we can move forward. It might take a few weeks to settle the details, so you are welcome to take a vacation, 47.”
47 winced slightly. A vacation, somewhere unfamiliar alone with his thoughts? He would much rather be working, doing what he knew he did best, better than anyone could ever do because it was all he knew. He truly didn’t understand much else other than performing the job, and performing it perfectly.
“I take your silence as in you have no plans?” Diana ventured.
“Mhmm,” he mumbled in affirmation. “What do you do on vacations?”
Diana went to refill her glass, with a decidedly more demure pour. “Travel, enjoy new cuisines, shopping. Classic tourist habits, I’m afraid.” She neglected to mention that sometimes she would visit with society friends, which could be fun but more often than not became a chore. Usually those engagements became gossiping sessions, which felt more like intel gathering than it did fun. But it felt more innocent to learn about Sarah Bashwell’s affair with the club’s famous tennis pro than planning to assassinate a mad scientist at a black market auction.
“Sounds enjoyable,” he offered, but didn’t sound convinced.
“Have you made any contacts outside of the agency, 47? Someone to visit?”
“No one.”
“Perhaps any hobbies you never have time for?”
“None.”
Then an idea clicked. Diana began to develop a plan.
“47, something has come up. I will need you to visit Sapienza for a hand-off. Some intel will be delivered to the safe house in a few days after I make my leave. I can arrange travel for you to be here shortly after I’m away. Is that acceptable?”
“Of course,” he said, slightly relieved at the thought of work winning out over a vacation.
It was unfortunate that his copper-headed handler had other ideas.
___
47 entered the ICA safe house to little fanfare. He arrived in Sapienza after three back-to-back flights and a short but uneventful taxi to the seaside paradise. It faintly smelled of lemons, and lavender, leftover hints of Diana’s recent presence. He set down his breakfast takeout of a cappuccino and frittata on the small kitchen table before proceeding to sweep the apartment. Finding it clear of anything he deemed suspicious, he set his sights on eating his breakfast on the balcony facing the sea.
Two hours passed and a knock came at the front door. 47 listened for the courier’s footsteps to walk away before deeming it safe enough to check the hallway and retrieve the package.
From the size of the package, 47 assumed it would contain a disassembled sniper rifle meant for the next contract. But the package, wrapped nicely in brown paper and string, addressed to a “Tobias Rieper,” weighed hardly anything at all. He set the package on the bed and decided to indulge his curiosity.
47 removed the wrapping and lifted the lid off the box, then cocked his head in confusion. The box contained a yoga mat, an apron, a book, and a handful of what looked to be tickets or slips of paper: beginner’s yoga, introduction to cooking, drumming lessons, and so on. On top of all of the items was a red envelope with “47” written in neat script. Diana.
47,
It has come to my attention that you need more experience in the field of casual relaxation. Please take the next two weeks to discover Sapienza and what it has to offer. I think you will find at least one item in this box that will lead you to an interesting new opportunity. I suggest starting with the cooking class first, ask for Lia.
Good luck, Agent.
Diana
47 ran his thumb over the note, pondering the paper and the gift of gentle insistence to socialize. He grabbed the apron from the box and held it against his body. The apron was a solid color, deep crimson, just like the tie with his favorite suit. No surprise, the apron was the perfect length and width for him.
He grabbed the slip of paper advertising cooking classes and Diana’s note. 47 adorned the crimson apron and placed the papers in their own pockets. He left behind his locked apartment and took a brisk but brief walk to the cornerstone cafe. The old storefront was designed with lots of windows and, it seemed, very popular in its cooking class offerings.
47 took a deep breath. He knew from their two years of working together that Diana does everything she can to keep him prepared for every mission, to keep him safe. He could fair well on his own, certainly, but in truth 47 excelled as a professional hitman with her direction. Diana was someone he had risked to trust, but that risk remained rewarded. He could try a vacation, and socializing, for her.
It’s just another mission, he thought, pushing the door open. Success is the only option.