Their last preparations didn’t take too long. Shay wired herself up with a small earpiece and called me in, making sure everything worked properly. I had access to a set of cameras and some facial recognition software, and paired with the list of people it meant I’d be doing most of the work. Still, she would be down there, antagonising, and it didn’t give me a great feeling.

(Having a screen full of CCTV in front of me always makes me feel like I’m looking down on everything, like an eye in the sky or a watch tower. Though sometimes, it feels more like a I’m a little boy, looking down at my backyard from the treehouse my father built me.)

Carlyle had joined me, along with a plate of finger sandwiches. I switched my sound feed to speakers, and we watched.

Slowly, the people poured in. The room was big enough for them to spread out comfortably, and some started browsing the merch right away. Fox walked in sometime later, dressed in a soft jumper and jeans. To my surprise, most people there seemed to know him, greeting him warmly and slapping him on the shoulder.

As it turned out, he has a life outside of his job.

“Anything yet?” The speaker crackled, and she met my eyes briefly through the camera lens.

“Nothing.” I reported back. I glanced at Carlyle before I suggested, “Start flirting?”

We watched as she sauntered over to Tom, slipped his arm over her shoulders. He managed to hide his surprise well, hugging her closer and leaning down to talk to her privately. He chose the wrong ear, and she whispered back too silently to be picked up by the microphone.

“Care to dance?” The implications in his tone weren’t lost on her.

She smirked. “Shouldn’t we go loud for this to work?”

“Maybe.” His hand slid down, down to her hip. “But you’ll have to agree this looks intimate.”

She rolled her eyes, leaned against him more fully. “Show me around, then.”

He guided her past the tables, introducing her to people whenever they ran into someone, even going as far as formally introducing her to Fox. He played his part, pressing her closer and squeezing her side and whispering words in her hair, and in return she rested her head against his chest, looked up at him with her slight smile and a blush rising on her cheeks.

They sold it.

It seemed like Tom had clued some people in on what was going on, because they accepted the way he paraded her around fairly easily. There were a few strange looks, but they seemed to be placated the moment Tom opened his mouth. Our microphone was short-range, and I only picked up the odd word. Shay had insisted on it, something about privacy or some similar nonsense. (It’s my job to watch CCTV and spy on people; privacy is a dead concept.) At the moment, I was busy with other things, but in hindsight, it’s not too hard to figure out what exactly happened.

Tom has taken her around the room, and one of the people who’d taken a liking to her dragged Fox over to introduce them.

“Shay!” She had to turn around in Tom’s arms to face them. “Have you met Sam?”

She looked him up and down, her smirk only visible in her eyes. “I believe we’ve met before, yes.” The kind smile she tried turned into a smirk. “Briefly.”

“Oh, my.” Their new friend giggled. “That sounds like a story.”

“It is.” She nodded, meeting his eyes. “Quite a night. I remember practically carrying you home. Couldn’t stand on his feet, this one.”

Fox huffed, amused. “I remember you picking a fight with two blokes and nearly getting downed.”

“Nearly.” She nodded at him. “Good to see you on your feet again.”

He gripped her right hand, shook it firmly. “You, too.”

“So…” Her new friend glanced between them and Tom. “Have you invited her yet?”

“Invited me to what?”

Fox looked insulted, reached past her to slap Tom on the arm. “You didn’t invite her?”

“Invited me to what?” She repeated.

Tom shrugged, “I haven’t gotten arou-”

“Tom, to what?”

If I could hear the dangerous edge in her voice, the men would surely pick up on it as well.

“A bunch of us get together weekly, have tea and scones and other very British things. You’d hate it.”

“Tom’s a bit of a spearhead.” Fox explained, “It’s where we met.”

“Is it?” She pressed herself closer to Tom. “You didn’t mention.”

“You didn’t ask.” Tom’s hand darted to the dip of her waist. “It’s a great place to meet new people. You’re welcome to tag along, if you’d like.”

She sighed. Her gaze darted between the two, and she groaned at their eager faces. “You’re gonna bully me into going, aren’t you?”

“Probably.” Tom winked at her. “Like I’m about to bully you into one of these shirts.” He pointed at the table, “Made a choice, yet?”

He used their new topic to guide her away, and Fox easily occupied the other person, giving them a brief moment to themselves.

“You okay?”

She took a deep breath. “Don’t keep me out of things.”

“Noted.” He looked around. “It’s quiet, still.”

She hummed, “No one’s been flagged, yet.”

“They’re not here?”

“Or they’re invited.” She worried her lip as she thought. “We might have to be… more.”

“More.” He pondered, his hand sneaking down to play at her hip. “I can do more.”

“Do it, then.” Another deep breath. “Show me more.”

He grabbed her hands and guided her to the windows. “Just in case.” He glanced outside. “Think they’re out there?”

“Highly unlikely.” She let him manipulate her into an intimate embrace. “They’d need to be in here to do anything.”

“They can do things from a distance.” He leaned in, hand moving up to caress her cheek, the soft look on his face not matching his whispered words. “They’ve invented things for that.”

She rolled her eyes. Following his lead, she reached up to twine around his neck. “This isn’t America.” She huffed, “Not everyone owns a gun.”

“Enough people do.” He leaned forward. “You alright?”

“I’m good.”

(As a side note, Carlyle was not)

“Good.” He leaned closer still. His eyes darted to her lips. “Wouldn’t want to make you… uncomfortable.”

She swallowed. “When this is over, we’re never doing this again.”

“Agreed.” His breath was warming her cheek. “So, Doctor Shaendel Klinger-Goldfield-Renard...”

She cringed at the full name but managed to contain it. “Yes, Mr Thomas Edward Donnelly?”

He smirked, meeting her eyes. “Can I kiss you?”