"Holdout?"
"Check."
"Transmitter?"
"Check."
"Garter?"
Crawler looked up at Wells. "You're not serious."
"It's the style." The American gave her a solid glare. "You did remember to purchase one, right?"
Growling, Crawler walked to her dresser and opened the top drawer. Soon she pulled a simple black garter. Propping her leg up on a chair, she slid the elastic fabric up along her leg to settle halfway up her thigh. She stared at it for a second. "You know, I could probably get a lightweight blade secured there."
Wells rolled his eyes. "Good to know you're always thinking."
Crawler just ignored him and went to look for a suitable weapon for the garter.
Wells stared across the limo's back seat to watch Crawler as her eyes gazed at the evening sky though the sunroof. There were times where he really didn't understand the young woman. He guessed her age to be in her late twenties. There was too much anger and long earned hardness in her eyes to be any younger.
Then there was the scar on her shoulder that caught his attention. A bright red mark, almost a perfect circle, lay just below where the shoulder meets the collarbone. The long scarf draped around her shoulders hid it now, but before he had seen it, yet knew better not to question.
And now, the way she stared up into the night sky . . . it was as if there was a bit of longing in her eyes. Just another bit more to the puzzle of the woman who Wells only knew of as Nightcrawler.
Soon the limo came to a stop outside a large mansion. Two valets ran to the limo door. One held the door open while the other reached his hand in to help Crawler out of the limo. Wells smirked, waiting to see how Crawler would respond to this.
And he was surprised as she gracefully slipped out from the limo, taking the young man's hand and even smiling at him. Shaking his head, Wells stepped out from the limo behind her and held his arm out. Crawler took it and let him lead her up the carpet to the main door.
"What do you think you're doing?" Wells whispered to her.
"Exactly what I'm being paid to do," Crawler answered shortly.
They entered the door and stood at the top of a great staircase. Below them, the middle of the floor was filled with dancers: men and women waltzing gracefully along the floor in each other's arms in perfect time to the music. One wall held a long set of tables, the polished surfaces covered with silver trays of food. A bar was on the other wall, near the door that supposedly led to the gardens.
Wells looked around and spotted a man nodding his head towards him. Wells nodded back, then turned to Crawler. "Why don't you walk around and secure the area? I have a few people I need to talk to."
Crawler sighed dramatically. "And here I thought you were going to take me dancing."
Wells gave her a look, then shook his head. Without a word, he walked down the steps and to the buffet tables. Two men walked over to meet him. One was the man who had nodded to him upon entrance. After a moment, Wells recognized the man from the Arab Alliance. The other was a shorter man, a bit older than Wells, and held himself up with the airs of one who was used to getting his way.
"Saiyib, this is M'allim Rouddim, the initiator of the Arab alliance."
Wells held out his hand to the larger man. "M'allim Rouddim. What does that translate into?"
Rouddim gave Wells a measuring glance. "You do not know the Arabic tongue?" He spoke with a heavily accented but otherwise perfect English.
"It's taking me time, but I'm slowly learning." Wells gave the Arab leader a smile. "So, have we come to talk business?"
"Business can wait," Rouddim stated, waving his underling away. The thin man bowed and left Wells standing alone with Rouddim. "Let's eat. The dowager and her court have put out a spread ajîb!"
Wells picked up a plate and put a few nibblers of food on it, watching as Rouddim examined each tray and took care on the food he chose. "So, where is that jamâl that you walked in with?"
"Jamâl?" Wells asked, casting his eyes around the dance floor in search of Crawler.
"Beauty," Rouddim stated, taking a flask of wine and sipping it. He smiled at Wells. "I would think you would not let a tender morsel like that out of your sight, let alone thrown to the winds in such a large place full of eager men."
Wells was just able to prevent himself from choking on his wine. "You're serious?" he muttered, wiping away the drops of wine that had spilled onto his shirt.
"Na'am!" Rouddim chuckled. "Slim, quiet and tame. All the qualities of an obedient woman. Very rare to find one of them in this world."
Shaking his head, Wells just sighed. "Yes, she is a rare one, indeed. Now, about our agreement. . . ."
Crawler growled at the conversation she could hear through her transmitter. Finally she had enough and took her ear piece out and let the device continue to record without her listening in.
Men are such pigs, she thought to herself as she took her glass of wine from a passing waiter and slowly sipped it. They are all just dumb and want to get . . .
"Bonjour, mademoiselle. Comment allez-vous?"
Crawler turned suddenly then stopped as she found herself staring into a pair of deep blue eyes. She took a step back and blinked for the face before her looking strangely familiar.
"Vous me comprenez?"
Crawler shook her head. Can't get disctracted like that. "I don't understand French too well," she told him.
"Ah, neither do I, so that's good." The man smiled. "I just assumed that you were a native because you are so beautiful and regal."
She smirked. "No, I'm just here with a friend."
"Me too." The man motioned to a couple dancing in the center of the room. "My co-star, actually. He got invited to this dance, and dragged me along with him."
"Co-star?" Crawler looked back at the man. "You're an actor?" That might explain why he looks familiar.
"Yes ma'am. Russell Crowe, at your service." He held out his hand to her. "And you are?"
Crawler smiled. "You can call me Marie." She gently shook his hand. There was something very familiar about this Crowe, more than just the knowledge of his name in the public standard. Maybe it was his face. He reminded her of someone else.
"Well, Marie, would you care to dance? I'm sure your friend wouldn't mind you enjoying yourself for awhile."
Crawler pushed her normal reservance to the side. She smiled and nodded. "I think I would enjoy that."
Russell smiled and took her hand, leading the mercenary onto the floor and taking her arms into a proper form for the dance. They danced around the floor, and Crawler found herself enjoying the company of the tall Australian.
"So, if you're not French, what are you doing in Paris?" he asked.
"I'm here on an assignment for my business. Getting the lay of the land, things like that. And you?"
"I'm here filming a movie. It's a war film about French legion members who go off to the Middle East to fight in a war for freedom."
"Yes, and he's mad that he lost out the role of the Captain to me and has to now be a footsoldier," a voice from beside them stated.
Russell laughed and turned to face the couple standing beside them. "Now Michael, you know my reasons for choosing the soldier role."
Crawler looked at the man next to her. He was taller than Crowe, with blonde hair and blue eyes. He noticed Crawler looked at him and smiled. "Hello, milady. Since this oaf doesn't plan on introducing me . . ."
"If you would shut up for a moment, I would." The two men laughed, then Crowe turned to Crawler. "Marie, this is Michael Vartan. Mike, this is Marie."
"Pleasure," Michael stated, taking Crawler's hand and gently kissing it. She resisted the urge of pulling her hand back, because this man too looked familiar. Probably just because they are actors, nothing more, her mind noted.
"You took a lesser part?" Michael's date asked. She batted her eyes at Russell. "Why is that?"
Crowe smiled softly. "I had the experience of being a soldier. I felt I could be more convincing in the role."
"He also gets to have the love story for his character," Michael whispered to Crawler, laughing.
"It reminds me of a woman I met almost a year ago. I was dragged into this liberation conflict, I can't remember much more of the details, but there was this woman. I think her name was Kristy, but my memories are fuzzy, as if it was all a dream." He sighed, closing his eyes. "I hope it wasn't. . . . Kristy. . . ."
Michael rolled his eyes. "Keep dreaming, Crowe. Maybe she'll come back to you."
Crawler chuckled. Suddenly she felt a hand on her shoulder. Turning, she saw Wells standing beside her. "Evening, gentlemen," Wells stated, nodding to Crowe and Michael. "Madam."
Crawler turned to Wells quickly. "Time to go?" she asked, cutting off before the group could talk to Wells.
Wells nodded. "I've finished my business here. So, if your friends will excuse us, we should be going."
Crowe smiled and released his arm from around Crawler's waist. "If you're going to be in Paris long, I'll be staying at the Hôtel de Lutèce for another few weeks. After that, we're off to some location in the Middle East to film the more action packed scenes."
"Be careful," Crawler stated. "I hear it's rough out there."
Crowe smiled. "I'm a fighter, my dear. I don't think there is too much that can harm me out that way."
Crawler smiled then spoke her good-byes. She walked silently with Wells out of the hall and back to the limo. Once there were inside and being driven back home, Wells looked at her. "Making friends?"
"What do you mean by that?" Crawler scowled.
"You seemed to be getting very chummy with that actor and his friends. And here I thought you weren't a people person."
"What, are you getting jealous, Wells?" Crawler crossed her arms. "At least Crowe was better company than your pal Rouddim."
"At least I wasn't letting Rouddim get his hands all over my body."
"From what I heard, he wasn't attracted to you anyway." Crawler chuckled. She reached down the back of her dress and took out the recorder. "Here's your recording. Just drop me off at my place."
"What, no dessert?"
Crawler rolled her eyes. The limo stopped outside her apartment and she exited the vehicle. Standing on the curb, she watched it drive away into the traffic, then sighed. As she walked up the stairs to her floor, she thought about the two actors. They looked very familiar to her, but why. . . . she shrugged. It would come to her eventually.
As she opened her door, the sound in the sky came again. She looked up, but saw nothing. Leaning over the door rail, she squinted her eyes to look into the cloudy sky. A few flurries landed on her nose, but she brushed them away. It was the second time in a week she heard the sound, but she never could find the source of the noise.
Another thing to look into soon. But now, her major priority was to get out of the dress. It just didn't go with the whole mercenary for hire image.