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.”
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
"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.
no subject
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?"
no subject
"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."
no subject
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.
no subject
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.
no subject
"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."
no subject
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.
no subject
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."
no subject
"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.
no subject
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?"
no subject
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.