Thread: In Cold Blood [Mach & Merc]

The best lies were woven with truth. Iris was able to answer Nicholas questions because this operation, this entire mission, was sewn with her true reality. She could look him in the eyes whenever she needed to answer a question of his, or turn her gaze away when the truth was too painful to express. It gave her an incredible sense of authenticity that would be difficult for even the most mastered of lie detectors to see through. And there was hardly a risk of stumbling over the truth when alcohol was involved. So as she sat across from Nicholas, with his attention on her, she passed every test. At least the ones he could give her now. She shared her life with him. Fact mixed with fiction in such a manner that made it impossible to tell when she wasnt telling the whole truth. There were moments, of course, that emotion struck her. When she spoke of her family, Iris clammed up a bit. It had not been a pleasant goodbye for her both in truth and fiction. Her alibi played on the truth, and it was a painful one. As they went back and forth on the questions and answers, and Iris picked at her food as it came in succession, Iris felt more at home than she had been in a long time. It was a different kind of home. One that she hadnt experienced in a long time. By the time their dinner plates were taken, and they were in a couple glasses of wine, Iris chair had moved closer to his own. They sat only a few short inches apart, her legs crossed at the knees with her ankle bobbing and rolling in such a way that occasionally shed brush the fabric of his pants. The cotton of her dress billowed around her knees as she adjusted it on her lap her eyes smiling more than her lips as she listened to him tell her it was her turn for another question. In the last hour or so, however long theyd been on this patio, drinking wine and eating and sharing stories, Iris had learned a surprising little amount about Nicky, and yet so much more than she would have ever thought. She learned that it was difficult to catch him off guard, but when she did he had a flare of light in his eyes and a quick twitch at the corner of his mouth that was intoxicating. He was ambidextrous, a tool of his trade, and had developed a taste for wine, whiskey, and, after she had pressed him, women. They shared history of relationships, and Iris admitted that she hadnt had many. It was difficult to date when you couldnt be honest about who you were. About who your family was. They talked music, and food, and current affairs. Both of them skirted topics that were too personal, or too revealing. Both out of caution. Of not being willing to reveal all on the first day. Iris had asked about art, and Nicky had given safe answers, especially since her questions seemed geared toward opening the door into his current business affairs though Iris was quick to claim she wasnt trying to break his rules of no business with a smile. She in turn had replied with the same caution when it came to anything in regards to her family, or friends shed made, while she was under witness protection. When asked if she still talked to them, she admitted that she was able to write her mother letters, but she rarely received anything in return. Too dangerous, she explained. So she never really knew if her mother received her letters or not. Taking a break from talking, and knowing it was her turn to ask a question, Iris mulled a few things over in her mind. She reached for her glass of wine as the same man who had replaced their salad plates with dinner plates, and then came to retrieve them, returned with two plates of dessert. Her eyes danced over the tiramisu and she smirked, shaking her head as a memory surfaced of Iris whining that the cake tasted funny at a fancy dinner party and embarrassing her mother as she had tried to explain and console Iris. Shed been maybe six or seven, and had nearly thrown a tantrum before Nicky had swept in and shown her where the good cake was. It fluttered away as quickly as it came, and when Iris lifted her eyes back up to meet Nicks again, they were thoughtful. Tell me about your first heart break? She wanted to know about him beyond what his favorite color was. She wanted to know what drove him to wake up in the morning, what motivated him to make it through the day. Iris wanted to know what was beneath his deepest layers. What he thought about love, about religion, about the universe. She wanted to know what turned him on, what made him angry, and what made him truly happy.