Fitz wasn’t sure about this op. He was just an extra pair of boots on the ground more than anything but he had a strange feeling prickling the back of his neck as he moved around the noisy club with a drink in hand. He desperately wanted to down it to ease his nerves but he was pretending to sip it in case anyone was watching him for suspicious behavior.
This wasn’t his natural habitat. Despite the knowledge that this wasn’t real life, just an op, he felt uncomfortable—and worse—vulnerable. He rubbed the back of his neck as he sat down at the bar, turning to the bloke next to him to perhaps start up a conversation and keep from seeming so out of place.
“Does the bartender ever even get down to this end of the bar?” he asked, chuckling. It’d taken him twenty minutes to get the drink he had, not that he really needed another.
“not unless you flash a few hundreds in their face.” well, that was one way of putting it. even though he could already tell it was going to be one of ‘those’ days. everything managed to feel off — even worse normal communication with someone didn’t feel right.
of course, if it was up to him, he would have stayed as far away as possible from everyone. that way, he could relax with out having to deal with other people. the case and point was right near him, “then again,“ he continued on, “ they don’t like me that much.” he could have elaborated more on the subject, even as to the reasons to why, but instead, the man moved to take a sip of his own drink.
“not these days at least.” he mused as he gave the other a short once-over, “so, they might be thinking you’re one of mine, but then again? maybe they don’t like your outfit…. or looks.”
Hellfirebound 