xxii. false presumptions

xxii. FALSE PRESUMPTIONS

The streets of Toulouse were filled with all sorts of people—businessmen, tourists, and students—occupied in their own bubbles. The breeze wisped my hair into the wind, filling me with purpose.

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but let's go for a run," I state.

Ace raises his eyebrow in my direction. "Octavia Snow wants to run?"

My eyes roll to the back of my head. "Shut up, you wet sock."

"I know your mind is about as useless as a knitted condom, but can you please come up with some better insults?"

"Knitted condoms. So that's why you have so many STDs."

"Are S, T, D, and K, F, C the only letters you know? Tragic, what a limited vocabulary."

"If you spend another word on me, your wit will be bankrupt," I scoff.

Ace smirks. "Quoting Shakespeare can't save you now."

Annoyed and impulsive, I push him to get a head start and begin to run as fast as I could. My feet were burning with determination. Almost immediately, Ace speeds past me. He maintained a steady distance of about three meters ahead of me no matter how hard I tried to push past him.

After a pitiful five minutes of jogging, I start gasping for air. "Slow down Banana Bread, I have short legs!"

Ace turns to face me in disbelief. "You're going to die in the field."

"I hope heaven has a height cutoff," I spit.

"You're cute when you're trying to threaten people."

I flip him off. Finally, Ace leads me to the Canal du Midi, a historical body of water surrounded by a park. The sun had a bright diming glow and cast it's warm orange hue on the water which reflected into the entire scenery.

He takes on the bench next to the water. Trees stood before us, providing us with a blanket of shade and leaves against the sun. The brisk breeze blows some leaves past us.

My hair flows out of my ponytail. A weird moment of solace was found. I was transported back to a time without any trouble or worry—just us—by the water.

"Your father," Ace begins. "He was a great man."

My lips tug into a bittersweet smile. Ace doesn't say anything for a moment; he doesn't need to.

Suddenly, his burner phone buzzes. Ace lets out a sigh. After he gets off the phone, he stretches and stands up.

"We need to get back," he states.

"I'll meet you back there; I just want to watch the sunset."

He looks at me with hesitance. I return the condescendingly misplaced care with a blank stare. "Come on Banana Bread," I purse. "I'm an adult. You don't need to supervise me all the time."

"You're accident prone and being hunted. Objectively, you need a supervisor, an ankle monitor, and a team of specialists."

"I also need a chip implanted into my neck. Oh wait... You've already done that," I add bitterly.

Ace gives me a poignant, "are you kidding me" look. "We'll remove it once the agency deems you trustworthy."

"But since this goddamn chip is in my neck, you might as well let me stay to watch the sunset."

"You're pretty fucking irritating."

"And you're pretty fucking annoying."

Ace rolls his eyes but allows me to stay. The breath of spring enters into my lungs as I inhale. This moment of peace is something that I'd treasure for the troubling weeks to come.

His frame disappears within the trail along the canal. I watched people as they went about their lives in the central park.

"J'aime regarder le coucher de soleil aussi."

The voice was like cotton. I turn to see a blonde woman staring at me with piercing blue eyes.

"Sorry, I don't speak French," I explain.

She offers me an endearing smile. She wore a silver business-like blazer and high heels in a park.

"Don't worry, I speak English. Do you mind if I sit?"

In all honesty, human interaction scared me. But what scared me even more than interaction was social embarrassment.

"Of course," I express, not knowing exactly how to react. Was talking to strangers something that French people did?

"What brings your here to Toulouse?" She asks.

Nothing much, I'm just forced to be here to stop the leader of an international crime syndicate. Of course, I didn't say that. "Exchange student," I respond.

She raises an eyebrow. "An exchange student who doesn't speak French?"

Shit. "I never said that I was a good student," I try to amend. "What about you? You're clearly overdressed for a stroll in the park."

"I'm a curator. We're holding an event further down, but I just needed to get away from everything for a bit."

I look up, only to see her blue eyes were staring intently in my direction. When she notices that I flinched under her gaze, she replaces her scrutiny with a small smile.

We begin holding a good conversation. Even though I absolutely hated socializing, she and I got along well. We held an easy line. It was easy with her. We were talking about cultural differences when a flimsy piece of paper flew into the wind.

I grabbed it from the ground and handed it back to her. "Thank you," she smiles. "It's a ticket to the Louvre. My boyfriend is taking me next week."

"That's awesome, I've always wanted that."

She grins. "To see the artwork or to have a boyfriend?"

I nearly choke. "The former. I've always wanted to see The Winged Victory of Samothrace."

The artwork was a Hellenistic sculpture from over two thousand years ago. The artwork had always been alluring to me; most interestingly, the face and limbs had been destroyed.

After a little longer of talking about favorite TV shows (Doctor Who), favorite places (North Carolina), and favorite foods (french fries), we part our separate ways. "Good luck on your studies," she says, leaving, "salut."

~

Ace was impatiently waiting for me by the time I got back. His arms were crossed against his chest, and his foot tapped incessantly against the floor.

His eyes narrow at me. "Why did it take you so long to get back?"

"Let it go Blackwell," Skye groans. "She's not a toddler. No need to constantly badger her."

"You're right, Octavia's worse than a toddler," Ace insists.

"He's been worried for the last hour," Chase bristles. "It's fucking annoying. I've been trying to watch an episode of Hell's Kitchen without interruption."

Xavier walks in the living room while eating a cheesecake. He then pops a hot pocket into the microwave without even acknowledging me.

I grimace, not really wanting to confront how overbearing Ace was being right now. "Ambassador Grant Deschamps and his daughter, are they secured in the safehouse?"

Ace flips through a manila folder. "He arrived at the safe house about thirty minutes ago. We do have a slight problem though—there is a state-sanctioned awards dinner in Paris next week that Deschamps has to attend."

My eyes go wide. "We shouldn't... We can't risk it," I urge.

Chase pauses his Hell's Kitchen episode. The TV freezes in a frame in which Gordon Ramsay chucks a frying pan at a contestant.

"She's right," Chase confirms. "The risk is too big."

"It isn't my call," Ace sighs. "Grant Deschamps is getting the award... The call by the canal, it was the agency. I know you might not agree, but all we can do is protect Deschamps while he's there. We leave for Paris in two days."

I frown in disapproval. Though when I remembered that the Louvre was in Paris, a small smile tugged at my lips.

"Fine," I concede. "But you're taking me to the Louvre when we're there."

"Did you just force me to go on a date?" Ace smirks.

Ace: "Vote if you want to go to see the Mona Lisa with me."