She catches the fact that he dodges the question slightly. Catches it, and lets it go because as hard as this might be for her, she's got to believe it's harder for him. He was actually married--and he loved his wife and kids. She lost family by deciding to stay with the family, sure, but it wasn't anything like losing a life you chose to build. When she thinks about that, it's a lot easier for her to understand what he did, and why he did it.
She's just glad they got him back. That they got Quyhn back. That she and Andy could reunite and work things out before--well. Before. But they have years to do it, and Nile isn't going to be dragged down thinking about an unknown future--not when she can focus on what's right here in front of her.
A mission. Where she's married to her friend. As they vacation on the beach. She twists to return that smile and hoists her backpack on her shoulder, motioning toward the suitcase.
"You better have added a swimsuit. We may be taking out a murderer," okay, murder-enabler, whatever , "but I will snorkel. And you will join me."
From the other room, Nicky's voice raises enough that he knows they both can hear him: 'If you take much longer, you will miss your flight!'.
Booker chuckles to himself. "I've got what we need." But if Nile wants to have a little vacation while on this mission he won't try and stop her.
He grabs up their bags and hikes them onto his shoulders. "You can drive us to the airport. I'm going to load the car before nonna worries to death about us."
Nicky curses him in Italian as he walks out of the safehouse to load them up in the trunk. He figures Nile will be right behind him after saying goodbye to Joe and Nicky.
They would be support if things went wrong but once he and Nile left they were basically on their own. It would be fine. They'd figure this out.
He breathes out as he closes the trunk. He would be fine.
Thing is, Nile's still half as well traveled as the rest of them. Including her time in the Marines, she'd only been out of the US once, and that was to ship out for Afghanistan. Her first weekend with Andy she went to more countries than she'd been to in her life. They keep adding to it, of course, missions in South America, in Africa, in Europe and a memorable time in Russia where she froze to death (it was the worst, she'd rather not repeat it), but they haven't been to the Caribbean and she's still never seen a beach like that.
Thankfully, she can work the newness into her cover story so she doesn't have to spend the entire time trying to hide the fact that she's excited. After all, if she's Booker's newly-wedded, much younger trophy wife, well. It'll ties in.
She laughs at the banter, actually understanding a few of Nicky's curse words (she's getting better at the languages), and gives him and Joe ridiculously tight hugs before joining Booker at the car. She catches his exhale and her face tightens, just a little--she wants to give him an out, say they don't have to do this, that she can work it out with Nicky or Joe, but they both know that won't work, and they also both know they have no choice.
Like he said, they'll figure this out.
As she rounds the back of the car to get in the passenger seat, she does brush her hand over his shoulder, as much comfort as she can give him for the moment.
Nile uses the ride to the airport to review their backstory. Where they supposedly met, when they got married, and those little things that couples know about each other.
"I'm just saying if we're faking our wedding, we should have picked a better location than New Jersey."
"What's wrong with New Jersey?" Booker glances over at her with an eyebrow raised. "Once you get away from the developed areas it's actually really nice. Look at the pictures of the location first before you judge it."
The story is they got married at Pleasantdale Chateau & Conference, which was a very lovely old mansion and quite grand. Which fit with their cover story. Booker was a tech genius and Nile his beautiful young trophy wife. They were rich, uncaring about anything but themselves, and basically everything Booker hated.
He'd still play it well. And unlike those other assholes he would treat Nile well.
"I've got some sense of taste," he says dryly. "Married you, didn't I?"
"It's New Jersey," She argues, because she may be a Chicago girl, but New York has one thing (and only one thing) right, and that's a deep distrust of The Garden State. But she listens and pulls out her phone to google pictures of their supposed wedding view. She gives a low hum--pretty much the only indication she plans to give him that he's right--and then smiles at his compliment.
Yeah. Of all the fake husbands in the world, she could do a whole lot worse.
She leans back a little in the chair and tests out reaching over and resting her hand on his, where it sits on the gearshift. If they're married, they've got to be okay with casual touching. People who are married do that, right? Even awful rich ones who don't care about anyone except for thinking about what people can do for them.
Booker's hands are warm, under hers, and she runs a finger along the back of his hand, tracing an absent pattern. "Alright, charmer. Yes, the venue was nice. You're lucky I didn't push you in that pool though--Nile totally would have. Fake-Nile was too worried about your very expensive suit."
Without a second thought Booker turns his hand over and laces their fingers together. Whatever rich married people do, this is what he does. Casual touches were reassuring. They spoke of intimacy and trust, things he believed any good marriage should have. And Booker refused to even pretend he wasn't a good husband.
"You should be more dismissive," Booker argues as he looks over at her for a moment. "Rich people have the money to buy more so who cares if you ruin one expensive thing? You can get another. In fact, you might as well buy two."
This would be Booker's biggest problem with the mission. He had never lost his Revolutionary zeal about the rich and wealthy. They were leeches sucking the lifeblood out of the poor and working class. He would always believe that.
Pretending to be married would be the easiest part.
"...okay, fair point," He's not wrong, the billionaire part of this was going to be a hell of a lot harder than the being married part. She keeps their hands laced together, smiling a little at the sight of them. He's a good man, no matter how much he tells himself otherwise, and she could be fake-married to worse.
But yeah, Nile's never been in a family with a lot of money. They weren't on the poverty line by any means, but they didn't have extras. A lot of love, a lot of duct tape and public school, and their mom going without so they had something, but it was always enough. Most of the people in her unit didn't come from money either. Jay and Dizzy were there for the same reason she was: GI Bill to pay for college. The idea of being a billionaire? That'll be hard.
"Alright. Rich people. With rich people hobbies. What do you think we do for fun? Wine tastings? Formula 1? Own--a yacht?"
"Yachting is good. I know how to sail. You... you know anything about tennis?" He looks her over. They needed a reason she was in such good shape besides being a trophy wife. "You don't look like someone who would enjoy golf."
Booker didn't enjoy gold either but he would probably half to fake it for this mission. A golf course would be a great place to make a kill. If he could get the target to agree to go with him that was.
"I have no idea what rich women talk about. Your, uh, your art history might be good for that. Collecting paintings is a rich person hobby, right?" He shrugs a shoulder.
"I've never been on a sailboat," She admits, before making a face at his tennis question. "And I mean, what every kid learns in PE. I can probably bullshit a conversation about it. Because yeah, I'm not into golf."
They're still holding hands, and Nile has no intention to stop until Booker makes her. It's--kind of nice, the grounding. The fact that they're talking about all of this, but it's also just the two of them here in this car. Sure they've got passports with fake names and fake wedding rings, but she can trust Booker, and that helps.
She's down for killing a rich arms dealer on a golf course though. That's a great idea. Fitting, somehow.
Nile snorts, because like she knows what rich women talk about, but he does clue on to a hobby they can both talk about with some passion. "Okay. We collect antiquities. Art. First Edition Books. Overpriced things that catch our fancy. I bet our arms dealer has enough random items in his auctions that aren't weapons that it might help us get in with him."
They pass under the first exit sign for the airport and Nile works on getting her game face on.
"Read some articles on the plane so you're a little up to date," he suggests with a little smirk. Golf is a stupid game in Booker's opinion as well but he'll play it and do reasonably well for a chance at the gun runner.
He gives her another look when she calls first editions overpriced things. Many of his first editions he bought when the books came out. He didn't overpay for anything. And even if he did for some books it's worth it. Books are always worth it.
"A good angle. Maybe Joe and Nicky can get a list for us. We might be able to approach him with that angle." Booker makes the exit and they join the slow stream of airport traffic. "Have you ever flown first class before?"
"Tennis articles, lucky me," She pouts, narrowing her eyes at that little smirk. Just for that, she's going to read the most boring parts out loud to him. So there.
And hey she also called the art overpriced. But mostly she meant they do art, books and other weird things rich people collect: he probably has three or four cars. One of them is red, at least. She probably uses a face cream that has crushed up diamonds in it, or something. They probably have spent a ridiculous amount on artifacts smuggled out of places where they rightfully belong. You know, like billionaires do.
"I'll just start listing off things Andy has in that cave," She teases, because she's still working on Andy giving them to a museum. It's not going well.
She shakes her head at his question. "Confession? Only other flying I've done is on military transport. Luxury isn't exactly at the forefront. Well, that and the drug runners Andy uses. And that one time we all flew coach to Brazil."
She could read whatever she wanted to him. Booker would listen because he might have to bullshit a conversation about tennis at some point. He might even bore himself by reading golf articles to make sure he's up to date.
"You're gonna like this. It's comfortable." He brings her hand up and kisses her knuckles before he turns for the expensive parking at the airport. They'll leave the car there so it didn't matter how much the lot cost. They'd never come back for the car.
He found a spot, parked, and finally let go of her hand. "Wipe down the inside I'll get the bags and wipe the outside." No fingerprints. Nile's were in the system. They didn't want to get flagged when someone searched the car.
Don't tempt her, Book. With an offer like that, she'll segue off tennis and head right into art history, and so far Joe's the only one who can handle that passion string. Andy fell asleep five minutes in. Nile grins at the idea of flying first class--she will definitely be ordering champagne--and then nods, shifting her attention to the task at hand.
She doesn't miss Booker touching her, because that would be ridiculous. Just a mission. Get your head on straight, Freeman.
The wipe down is quick, effective, and soon enough she's standing outside the car with her bags in hand. She steps up to Booker, slipping her arm in his, letting him lead the way into the airport. He's got their passports after all, and their boarding passes (all under fake names, she's going to have to get used to being Nia instead of Nile, but at least they're close enough she should react) and her job is to look pretty and be young. She's not exactly used to it, but, hey, rich people, right?
It's not until they're waiting in the security line that she leans up to him enough to whisper a conspiratorial: "And where's our VIP line for this, huh?"
Booker shoots her a look, one eyebrow raised. Once they're at the front of the line he hands over their passports and tickets. Then a woman in a nice skirt suit asked them to follow her. She led them through a very weak security check and only a walk through the metal detectors. She then escorted them to a private waiting lounge with plush leather armchairs and complimentary drinks.
"Is that enough VIP for you?" he teases as he settles into one of the chairs to wait. What he wants is to go look for the nearest airport junk store and get himself a cheap paperback but that's not what his identity would do.
He and his identity would both order expensive whiskey which he does. "We have priority boarding as well. Just relax, dear, we'll be treated right. Like you're used to."
Okay, yeah, so a little different than military transports and Andy's idea of what's okay when it comes to flying when you can't die (seriously, the obsession with planes that seem more duct-tape than anything else has to be unhealthy) and Nile tries not to look like a kid who's seeing Disneyland for the first time.
She follows along behind him, silent the way she's supposed to be, and then settles easily into a chair near him, fighting the urge to tuck her feet up under her. Nile sits like she's never sat straight in her life, a sprawl reclaimed from military precision, Nia sits like she's actually been to finishing school--because, well, she has.
She orders a champagne after his whiskey and waits until she has it in hand before she answers. "Forgive me for doubting you, darling,"
The endearment slips off her tongue easier than she expects, even if it's one she wouldn't usually use herself. She takes a sip of the champagne, letting out a hum as the bubbles slip down her throat and nudges him with a high heeled shoe.
"I expect caviar too, you know," she teases, lips quirking.
Booker leans over and murmurs close to his ear like he is still very much in love with his new bride and not yet tired of her. "Have you ever had caviar? It's very salty."
He presses a quick kiss to her cheek before he settles back to wait for their flight. Physical affection is rare from him but they're a married couple which means she'll get plenty of it this trip. As long as she doesn't seem uncomfortable.
When they call for their flight Booker gets up and offers her a hand. He laces their fingers together for the walk to the gate. His whole posture is softer, gentler.
He taking on the role of Deacon, slowly but surely.
Booker's words against her ear send a soft shiver across Nile's body--not the words, maybe, but the feel of his breath, the closeness. She isn't used to it yet, still adjusting for the guard's closeness overall, but Booker especially seems to hold back on the PDA. It's not that she minds--she doesn't pull away, doesn't show anything outwardly, but her stomach flips in a way she really doesn't want to think too much about at the kiss, and so instead she focuses on the conversation. Caviar. Right.
"Of course I've had caviar," She hasn't. Nia has. Booker settles back and Nile follows suit, leaving one heel pressed up against his leg, one small point of connection, before turning to her phone, absently scrolling through news articles and clicking at ones that interest her at random.
Their flight is announced sooner than she expects, and again she lets Booker (Deacon, she's got to start thinking of him as his persona, or she's going to slip up--at least Booker is one she can play off as a nickname), but she follows quickly enough, smiling pleasantly at flight attendants as they hand over boarding passes and passports again, as they're ushered down the boarding gate and then onto the plane.
Her eyes widen, just slightly, at the sight of their first class accommodations and she slips into her spot easily, nodding at the offered champagne. With their healing she's drinking slow enough not to get anywhere near drunk, but she'll use it as a shield. People take women less seriously if they think they're a little tipsy.
She shouldn't, but she can't help leaning over to Booker before they're instructed to fasten their seatbelts and whispering in his ear:
"Is Deacon a member of the mile high club? Nia definitely is."
When they were settled into their seats Booker put his hand on Nile's knee and squeezed gently. And he kept his hand there. He rather likes the connection there and the little bit of affection. A married couple should be affection. It's how he was with his wife.
He raises an eyebrow at her question, smiling just a little. "Is that Nile projecting onto her role?" he asks softly, his voice a low rumble.
Booker has had sex in planes before. Not fancy planes like this but the rusty cargo planes and the other strange forms of transport they took to avoid detection.
He couldn't blame Nile for sex on a plane. She was young and would be for a very long time. Why not take risks? Why not have fun? He'd found a little of that again along with his will to live.
Nile doesn't know anything about being married, so she'll let Booker lead when it comes to affection and how much of it they should show. She's loathe to admit it (though she's sure it'll come up at some point), she's only had the two relationships: one with Tobias Anderson at her high school and another just before the military that didn't last through shipping out.
She laughs and shakes her head though, at the question.
"No. Nile's definitely not had sex on a plane. Too many grunts shoved on a military transport and then--what, like Andy would let me bring along a booty call on a mission?"
She gets the appeal, but--nah, she's never. Maybe in the future sometime, just to say she's done it. Like bungee jumping, or skydiving. Turns out when you know you can't die, it gets a little easier to check things off the adrenaline bucket list.
"But Nia totally has. Twice. Once after a trip to Cancun with her sorority sisters, and once on a private jet with an ex. Don't worry honey," She grins, wraps her hand over his on her knee. "You're much better."
Right. Nile is still adjusting to the whole open relationships they all have with each other. She wouldn't just ask for sex on the plane with one of them.
"That's fine. You're better than my two ex-wives," Booker says dryly. It seems like an appropriate amount for someone of his wealth and age to have. "No children."
Because not even Booker could handle having fake children. That was too big of a line to cross. His heart could never take anything with children very well. So, no children. Never any children in these fake identities.
"But maybe Nia can convince Deacon to join her," he teases and winks at the flight attendant as she passes.
Yeah. Give her a decade or two and maybe she will be used to how free the rest of them are with one another. The gentle touches, the free affection, whatever it is that happens behind closed doors -- doors that she's pretty sure are closed because she's there.
At the mention of children, she can't help but reach out with a hand, settling it on his knee and squeezing gently. She gets it, even if she can't say it out loud.
"If you were only telling me about children now, we'd be having a different conversation," She teases, gently, and then makes a face and swats at him. "And I better be better than your ex-wives--in personality and in whatever club we join together."
Excuse you, Booker, she's fantastic in bed. The flight attendant gives them both an indulgent smile, offers to fill their drinks and then is gone again.
Booker’s better. Not perfect but he’s learned to carry his baggage a little bit better. The only thing that cuts deep are children. He reaches out, takes her hand in his, and laces their fingers together.
He’s gotten better about accepting sympathy as well.
“It’ll be about eight hours.” The resort is almost halfway across the country from where they were now. It would be a long, hopefully relaxing flight that would give them time to get into character.
“Once we get there we can unpack and adjust. I don’t think we need to meet our friend right away.” Booker means the target. They can take the time to set up in their private resort cabin and adjust to any jet lag before they go to mingle and make friends.
These sort of missions take a long time. Booker almost wished they could have found a way for Nicky to set up and shoot the bastard. It would be messier but quicker. “It’s good you’re getting into it. Put just enough truth in the character to live it.”
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She's just glad they got him back. That they got Quyhn back. That she and Andy could reunite and work things out before--well. Before. But they have years to do it, and Nile isn't going to be dragged down thinking about an unknown future--not when she can focus on what's right here in front of her.
A mission. Where she's married to her friend. As they vacation on the beach. She twists to return that smile and hoists her backpack on her shoulder, motioning toward the suitcase.
"You better have added a swimsuit. We may be taking out a murderer," okay, murder-enabler, whatever , "but I will snorkel. And you will join me."
From the other room, Nicky's voice raises enough that he knows they both can hear him: 'If you take much longer, you will miss your flight!'.
"I think we're being summoned."
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He grabs up their bags and hikes them onto his shoulders. "You can drive us to the airport. I'm going to load the car before nonna worries to death about us."
Nicky curses him in Italian as he walks out of the safehouse to load them up in the trunk. He figures Nile will be right behind him after saying goodbye to Joe and Nicky.
They would be support if things went wrong but once he and Nile left they were basically on their own. It would be fine. They'd figure this out.
He breathes out as he closes the trunk. He would be fine.
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Thankfully, she can work the newness into her cover story so she doesn't have to spend the entire time trying to hide the fact that she's excited. After all, if she's Booker's newly-wedded, much younger trophy wife, well. It'll ties in.
She laughs at the banter, actually understanding a few of Nicky's curse words (she's getting better at the languages), and gives him and Joe ridiculously tight hugs before joining Booker at the car. She catches his exhale and her face tightens, just a little--she wants to give him an out, say they don't have to do this, that she can work it out with Nicky or Joe, but they both know that won't work, and they also both know they have no choice.
Like he said, they'll figure this out.
As she rounds the back of the car to get in the passenger seat, she does brush her hand over his shoulder, as much comfort as she can give him for the moment.
Nile uses the ride to the airport to review their backstory. Where they supposedly met, when they got married, and those little things that couples know about each other.
"I'm just saying if we're faking our wedding, we should have picked a better location than New Jersey."
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The story is they got married at Pleasantdale Chateau & Conference, which was a very lovely old mansion and quite grand. Which fit with their cover story. Booker was a tech genius and Nile his beautiful young trophy wife. They were rich, uncaring about anything but themselves, and basically everything Booker hated.
He'd still play it well. And unlike those other assholes he would treat Nile well.
"I've got some sense of taste," he says dryly. "Married you, didn't I?"
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Yeah. Of all the fake husbands in the world, she could do a whole lot worse.
She leans back a little in the chair and tests out reaching over and resting her hand on his, where it sits on the gearshift. If they're married, they've got to be okay with casual touching. People who are married do that, right? Even awful rich ones who don't care about anyone except for thinking about what people can do for them.
Booker's hands are warm, under hers, and she runs a finger along the back of his hand, tracing an absent pattern. "Alright, charmer. Yes, the venue was nice. You're lucky I didn't push you in that pool though--Nile totally would have. Fake-Nile was too worried about your very expensive suit."
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"You should be more dismissive," Booker argues as he looks over at her for a moment. "Rich people have the money to buy more so who cares if you ruin one expensive thing? You can get another. In fact, you might as well buy two."
This would be Booker's biggest problem with the mission. He had never lost his Revolutionary zeal about the rich and wealthy. They were leeches sucking the lifeblood out of the poor and working class. He would always believe that.
Pretending to be married would be the easiest part.
Being a heartless billionaire? Fuck.
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But yeah, Nile's never been in a family with a lot of money. They weren't on the poverty line by any means, but they didn't have extras. A lot of love, a lot of duct tape and public school, and their mom going without so they had something, but it was always enough. Most of the people in her unit didn't come from money either. Jay and Dizzy were there for the same reason she was: GI Bill to pay for college. The idea of being a billionaire? That'll be hard.
"Alright. Rich people. With rich people hobbies. What do you think we do for fun? Wine tastings? Formula 1? Own--a yacht?"
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Booker didn't enjoy gold either but he would probably half to fake it for this mission. A golf course would be a great place to make a kill. If he could get the target to agree to go with him that was.
"I have no idea what rich women talk about. Your, uh, your art history might be good for that. Collecting paintings is a rich person hobby, right?" He shrugs a shoulder.
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They're still holding hands, and Nile has no intention to stop until Booker makes her. It's--kind of nice, the grounding. The fact that they're talking about all of this, but it's also just the two of them here in this car. Sure they've got passports with fake names and fake wedding rings, but she can trust Booker, and that helps.
She's down for killing a rich arms dealer on a golf course though. That's a great idea. Fitting, somehow.
Nile snorts, because like she knows what rich women talk about, but he does clue on to a hobby they can both talk about with some passion. "Okay. We collect antiquities. Art. First Edition Books. Overpriced things that catch our fancy. I bet our arms dealer has enough random items in his auctions that aren't weapons that it might help us get in with him."
They pass under the first exit sign for the airport and Nile works on getting her game face on.
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He gives her another look when she calls first editions overpriced things. Many of his first editions he bought when the books came out. He didn't overpay for anything. And even if he did for some books it's worth it. Books are always worth it.
"A good angle. Maybe Joe and Nicky can get a list for us. We might be able to approach him with that angle." Booker makes the exit and they join the slow stream of airport traffic. "Have you ever flown first class before?"
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And hey she also called the art overpriced. But mostly she meant they do art, books and other weird things rich people collect: he probably has three or four cars. One of them is red, at least. She probably uses a face cream that has crushed up diamonds in it, or something. They probably have spent a ridiculous amount on artifacts smuggled out of places where they rightfully belong. You know, like billionaires do.
"I'll just start listing off things Andy has in that cave," She teases, because she's still working on Andy giving them to a museum. It's not going well.
She shakes her head at his question. "Confession? Only other flying I've done is on military transport. Luxury isn't exactly at the forefront. Well, that and the drug runners Andy uses. And that one time we all flew coach to Brazil."
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"You're gonna like this. It's comfortable." He brings her hand up and kisses her knuckles before he turns for the expensive parking at the airport. They'll leave the car there so it didn't matter how much the lot cost. They'd never come back for the car.
He found a spot, parked, and finally let go of her hand. "Wipe down the inside I'll get the bags and wipe the outside." No fingerprints. Nile's were in the system. They didn't want to get flagged when someone searched the car.
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She doesn't miss Booker touching her, because that would be ridiculous. Just a mission. Get your head on straight, Freeman.
The wipe down is quick, effective, and soon enough she's standing outside the car with her bags in hand. She steps up to Booker, slipping her arm in his, letting him lead the way into the airport. He's got their passports after all, and their boarding passes (all under fake names, she's going to have to get used to being Nia instead of Nile, but at least they're close enough she should react) and her job is to look pretty and be young. She's not exactly used to it, but, hey, rich people, right?
It's not until they're waiting in the security line that she leans up to him enough to whisper a conspiratorial: "And where's our VIP line for this, huh?"
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"Is that enough VIP for you?" he teases as he settles into one of the chairs to wait. What he wants is to go look for the nearest airport junk store and get himself a cheap paperback but that's not what his identity would do.
He and his identity would both order expensive whiskey which he does. "We have priority boarding as well. Just relax, dear, we'll be treated right. Like you're used to."
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She follows along behind him, silent the way she's supposed to be, and then settles easily into a chair near him, fighting the urge to tuck her feet up under her. Nile sits like she's never sat straight in her life, a sprawl reclaimed from military precision, Nia sits like she's actually been to finishing school--because, well, she has.
She orders a champagne after his whiskey and waits until she has it in hand before she answers. "Forgive me for doubting you, darling,"
The endearment slips off her tongue easier than she expects, even if it's one she wouldn't usually use herself. She takes a sip of the champagne, letting out a hum as the bubbles slip down her throat and nudges him with a high heeled shoe.
"I expect caviar too, you know," she teases, lips quirking.
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He presses a quick kiss to her cheek before he settles back to wait for their flight. Physical affection is rare from him but they're a married couple which means she'll get plenty of it this trip. As long as she doesn't seem uncomfortable.
When they call for their flight Booker gets up and offers her a hand. He laces their fingers together for the walk to the gate. His whole posture is softer, gentler.
He taking on the role of Deacon, slowly but surely.
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"Of course I've had caviar," She hasn't. Nia has. Booker settles back and Nile follows suit, leaving one heel pressed up against his leg, one small point of connection, before turning to her phone, absently scrolling through news articles and clicking at ones that interest her at random.
Their flight is announced sooner than she expects, and again she lets Booker (Deacon, she's got to start thinking of him as his persona, or she's going to slip up--at least Booker is one she can play off as a nickname), but she follows quickly enough, smiling pleasantly at flight attendants as they hand over boarding passes and passports again, as they're ushered down the boarding gate and then onto the plane.
Her eyes widen, just slightly, at the sight of their first class accommodations and she slips into her spot easily, nodding at the offered champagne. With their healing she's drinking slow enough not to get anywhere near drunk, but she'll use it as a shield. People take women less seriously if they think they're a little tipsy.
She shouldn't, but she can't help leaning over to Booker before they're instructed to fasten their seatbelts and whispering in his ear:
"Is Deacon a member of the mile high club? Nia definitely is."
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He raises an eyebrow at her question, smiling just a little. "Is that Nile projecting onto her role?" he asks softly, his voice a low rumble.
Booker has had sex in planes before. Not fancy planes like this but the rusty cargo planes and the other strange forms of transport they took to avoid detection.
He couldn't blame Nile for sex on a plane. She was young and would be for a very long time. Why not take risks? Why not have fun? He'd found a little of that again along with his will to live.
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She laughs and shakes her head though, at the question.
"No. Nile's definitely not had sex on a plane. Too many grunts shoved on a military transport and then--what, like Andy would let me bring along a booty call on a mission?"
She gets the appeal, but--nah, she's never. Maybe in the future sometime, just to say she's done it. Like bungee jumping, or skydiving. Turns out when you know you can't die, it gets a little easier to check things off the adrenaline bucket list.
"But Nia totally has. Twice. Once after a trip to Cancun with her sorority sisters, and once on a private jet with an ex. Don't worry honey," She grins, wraps her hand over his on her knee. "You're much better."
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"That's fine. You're better than my two ex-wives," Booker says dryly. It seems like an appropriate amount for someone of his wealth and age to have. "No children."
Because not even Booker could handle having fake children. That was too big of a line to cross. His heart could never take anything with children very well. So, no children. Never any children in these fake identities.
"But maybe Nia can convince Deacon to join her," he teases and winks at the flight attendant as she passes.
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At the mention of children, she can't help but reach out with a hand, settling it on his knee and squeezing gently. She gets it, even if she can't say it out loud.
"If you were only telling me about children now, we'd be having a different conversation," She teases, gently, and then makes a face and swats at him. "And I better be better than your ex-wives--in personality and in whatever club we join together."
Excuse you, Booker, she's fantastic in bed. The flight attendant gives them both an indulgent smile, offers to fill their drinks and then is gone again.
"How long of a flight are we in for, again?"
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He’s gotten better about accepting sympathy as well.
“It’ll be about eight hours.” The resort is almost halfway across the country from where they were now. It would be a long, hopefully relaxing flight that would give them time to get into character.
“Once we get there we can unpack and adjust. I don’t think we need to meet our friend right away.” Booker means the target. They can take the time to set up in their private resort cabin and adjust to any jet lag before they go to mingle and make friends.
These sort of missions take a long time. Booker almost wished they could have found a way for Nicky to set up and shoot the bastard. It would be messier but quicker. “It’s good you’re getting into it. Put just enough truth in the character to live it.”
A good lie always had a kernel of truth.