"Ripe for the picking indeed," Crawler muttered, holding up a glass of wine to observe the dark red color in the light. "The only thing worth picking here is their wine." With that, she drank the whole glass down in one swallow.
"If you drink it that fast, you won't learn to appreciate the taste."
Crawler turned her eyes to glance at the man who had come to stand beside her. John Wells handed her a new glass of wine and motioned with his head for her to walk with him.
After they were away from the main crowd, Wells turned and faced Crawler. "I see you took my advice and got out."
"I was thirsty," Crawler stated plainly. She raised the glass to her lips and started to gulp the drink down again, but Wells slapped her hand down. The glass, still half full, splashed its contents around, and a few drops of wine splattered onto Crawler's black top. She growled and glared at Wells. "Don't do that again."
"Spare me the mercenary talk, Crawler." Wells replied. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief, tossing it to the young woman. "If you're going to be seen with me, you will learn to act the part of a well behaved young woman."
"If I recall, it was you who sought my company," Crawler stated as she blotted the wine from her shirt, though the liquid made no notice of stain on the black fabric.
"Did I?" Crawler looked up at Wells, who leaned against the wall and sipped his wine. "I would like to bet that you followed me."
"Then you would be wrong." Crumpling the handkerchief into a ball, she tossed it at the arrogant American. He caught it quickly and replaced it into his pocket in one smooth motion.
"I didn't approach you to argue, Crawler." Wells stated. He looked left and right, then walked to stand close to the tall mercenary. "I need you to help me track down someone."
Crawler raised her eyebrow. "So I'm now going from hired muscle to stalker. How degrading. I don't think I'm paid enough to take that kind of demotion."
"Consider it extra credit." He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a palm pilot. He handed it to Crawler and turned to look away as a couple at a nearby table took interest in them.
Crawler read over the file info on the pilot, along with the image of a young female face. "This is just a child," Crawler stated, handing the pilot back. "I don't work well with children."
"She's an adult, and one who could prove to be a liability if not dealt with immediately."
Crawler heard a different tone in Wells's words, and tilted her head to observe him. After a moment, she had an idea. "Leaking information out to past associates, or did you happen to give her a data disc instead of a lollipop?"
Wells growled and turned, pushing aside a curtain and stepping out onto a balcony. Crawler let a sardonic smile come to her face and she followed him out, leaning against the doorway.
"Espèce d'emmerdeuse!" Wells muttered, grasping the sides of the balcony so hard his knuckles were turning white.
"I may not speak the native tongue, but I do recognize an insult when I hear it." Crawler stalked over to where Wells stood. "You want someone to fix your liabilities, talk to your Arab chums. I'm here for the big prize, and that's it."
Before she knew what was happening, she felt a sharp point dig into the side of her neck. "You've insulted me one too many times, Crawler. I do not take lightly to being made the fool."
"I never made you the fool," Crawler replied, staring Wells straight in the eye. "You did that yourself."
Wells closed his eyes and shook his head. Chuckling under his breath, he took the tiny blade away from Crawler's neck and returned it. "You really are a chienne, you know that?"
Crawler smiled at him. She leaned forward to whisper in his ear. "I've been told that, and a lot more."
She leaned away from him, satisfied with the shock on his face. Taking the palm pilot in her hand, she tucked it into an inside pocket of her jacket. She turned her back and walked away, calling over her shoulder, "I'll think about your assignment, Wells. And you should think about your manners."