"Likewise, cowboy." Response accompanied by an obligatory wink as she skips the last few steps in favor of lunging forward to close the gap between them, index finger winding itself around one of his frontmost belt loops once she's close enough; it's followed, quite predictably, by a tug-- till they're inches apart and she has the opportunity to press a spare clip to Nate's palm, rather than her lips against his.
Soaking wet, covered in dirt and grit in the middle of a warzone. All in all, it's bloody ridiculous.
He'd catch her at the hips with both his hands if she gave him the opportunity, but then Chloe's pressing a clip into his hand and, hey, he's never been one to turn down extra ammunition. Finds it;s good to have on hand for when things get tense - tight spots, arguments. That kind of thing.
"Well I like to think so." He jams the spare clip into the magazine pouch on his holster, flashing her a grin. "But seriously, this whole double agent thing is a good look on you."
"You always know just what to say to make a girl blush." Which probably means it was an effective compliment-- or more likely that it all boils down to an inability to be patient-- because Chloe catches his lower lip with her teeth, exhales hard into the soft curves of his mouth and inhales a potent combination of sweat and singed powder. Mud and earth and the distinct, metallic scent of blood.
He grins into the catch of her teeth, the taste of her breath (minty - someone's been taking care of their oral hygiene in a war zone). It's not really the time, but when has his timing ever been great, so Nate doesn't give much thought to it before he tips his chin and kisses her properly - punctuates it with a purposeful pat to one of the back pockets of her cargo pants before breaking away.
"Remind me not to get on your bad side," He's grinning still, hand sliding into her pocket. Completely innocently, mind you. "Unless I need half a city razed to the ground, in which case I guess that's a pretty good Plan A."
It's impractical and stupid as far as decisions go, but she indulges him, returns the favor by curling her fingers against the back seam of his trousers till she hits his pockets. Feels him up like a bloody teenager in a shopping mall rather than a war-torn mess of rotted wood and open walls.
And where he breaks the kiss, she keeps her lips close-- keeps his breath on her skin-- rides out the moment for a few seconds longer while he teases and she laughs. Because once they've turned in for the day Nate can pack up in some hole in the wall and forget, because the atrocities the news coughs up in memory of everything Lazarevic has done is exactly what she heads back to watch from the sidelines.
He gets to run off; she only gets time outs.
"Please, you do that all on your own, Nathan "walking disaster" Drake. I've seen your work."
"Oh come on. So I've taken out a few undiscovered Mayan temples; no one knew they were there in the first place." No okay, he still feels kind of bad about a lot of that. But it's not like it was his fault specifically so much as it was in a really general, roundabout sort of way.
--Look he can't be held responsible for all the collateral damage involved with getting his way.
On a scale of one to serious mental issues, how awful is it that it comes out sounding like one of Flynn's excuses?
"Funny. I distinctly remember you bringing down a bit more than that." Chloe draws back, unhooks the radio from her belt at the sound of hissing static. Perfectly good innuendo ruined. "Right, sounds like we need to be moving on."
He slips his hand from her pocket seamlessly enough (seamlessly, get it?), unwinding his arm from around her so he can fetch the map. Nate shakes it out with a distinct flourish.
"If I'm right about this, we'll want to head North. We'll need to find a building there twelve stories tall at least. From there, we should be able to find the markers Polo wrote about." So long as they could get the angles right, finding the right temple in this mess would be a piece of cake. "You've got Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dummer running around in the South end, right?"
"Abso-bloody-lutely I do." There's a momentary pause as Chloe peers over his shoulder (never can be too careful when it comes to Nate and maps, after all) finds she doesn't entirely understand what 'markers' they're looking for, and trusts his judgment on the matter: turning for the rear entrance of the lobby that's facing north east and keeping an ear to the ground for more transmissions.
If the second patrol notices the first, that'll bring the bastards closer to their trail. Best to be sure of their enemies' location. "Honestly you should've been there to see the look on Harry's face when I told him I'd spotted some graffiti spelling out cryptic directions to a lost fortune."
He folds the map back up, following after her (because why lead and miss out on the view, right?) as they make their way from the crumbling remains of -- what is this, a hotel? Housing block? Whatever, it's barely a step up from debris now. "Did he pee a little? I bet he peed a little."
Once back on the street, Nate forgets about following and makes a beeline for the now abandoned vehicle, skirting around the front bumper and trotting along in the shadow of bombed out buildings. They've got at least ten blocks before they'll be far enough North to start thinking about going up.
"Not asking why that's what you want to know about."
It's when the trip goes quiet, really. Nothing to talk about aside from the insignificant (not that she imagines Nate would mind hearing all about Flynn's near constant failures) but it's all a bit too small talk-y. A bit too cordial and dull. Three blocks away from the target, Chloe tucks the radio back in its place. "How long d'you think it'll take to scope this marker out?"
It's quite, not a little awkwardly so as Nate leads the way down the uneven, debris-strewn street while squinting at the surrounding architecture and occasionally double- (and triple-) checking his map. And somehow neither of them ever considers the possibility that this might not work - that Chloe's schemes for far off beaches and drinks with umbrellas might be a bit of a long shot not just because of the mess they've gotten themselves into, but because of-- well, everything else.
"Eh." It's a dismissive kind of noise, easy going. Nate folds the map back up, drawing to a halt at the end of the block. There's a hotel a few blocks further, visible from here. That works. "If we're lucky and Lazarevic hasn't bowled through anything? Give me ten minutes."
He throws her a quick look, mouth quirking into a grin. Yeah girl, sometimes he's pretty good at what he does.
Well it's a long, markerless road ahead so his broad, cocksure grin leaves Chloe more confused than anything else; her eyes flicking briefly towards him after a moment of quiet contemplation and then back again. "Uhm."
"Am I missing something here because I'm not getting 'ten minutes' from any of...this." A point emphasized by one hasty little wave of her arm.
"Trust me, Chloe." He spreads his hands as he steps off the edge of the mangled sidewalk, walking backward a few paces in their desired direction. "I've got this. Just follow my lead for once." Nate punctuates it with an eyebrow quirk and a tip of his chin before he turns, and does just that - making his way along the (relatively - save the occasional pop of not too distance gunfire) quiet street.
They're lucky (when isn't he lucky?) and don't run into anyone, native or otherwise, along those last few blocks. By minute ten, Nate's found them a broken window and gotten them into the ground level of the hotel itself.
The stairs leading up from there are depressingly nonexistent.
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Soaking wet, covered in dirt and grit in the middle of a warzone. All in all, it's bloody ridiculous.
And she loves it.
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"Well I like to think so." He jams the spare clip into the magazine pouch on his holster, flashing her a grin. "But seriously, this whole double agent thing is a good look on you."
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"Remind me not to get on your bad side," He's grinning still, hand sliding into her pocket. Completely innocently, mind you. "Unless I need half a city razed to the ground, in which case I guess that's a pretty good Plan A."
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And where he breaks the kiss, she keeps her lips close-- keeps his breath on her skin-- rides out the moment for a few seconds longer while he teases and she laughs. Because once they've turned in for the day Nate can pack up in some hole in the wall and forget, because the atrocities the news coughs up in memory of everything Lazarevic has done is exactly what she heads back to watch from the sidelines.
He gets to run off; she only gets time outs.
"Please, you do that all on your own, Nathan "walking disaster" Drake. I've seen your work."
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--Look he can't be held responsible for all the collateral damage involved with getting his way.
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"Funny. I distinctly remember you bringing down a bit more than that." Chloe draws back, unhooks the radio from her belt at the sound of hissing static. Perfectly good innuendo ruined. "Right, sounds like we need to be moving on."
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"If I'm right about this, we'll want to head North. We'll need to find a building there twelve stories tall at least. From there, we should be able to find the markers Polo wrote about." So long as they could get the angles right, finding the right temple in this mess would be a piece of cake. "You've got Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dummer running around in the South end, right?"
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If the second patrol notices the first, that'll bring the bastards closer to their trail. Best to be sure of their enemies' location. "Honestly you should've been there to see the look on Harry's face when I told him I'd spotted some graffiti spelling out cryptic directions to a lost fortune."
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Once back on the street, Nate forgets about following and makes a beeline for the now abandoned vehicle, skirting around the front bumper and trotting along in the shadow of bombed out buildings. They've got at least ten blocks before they'll be far enough North to start thinking about going up.
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It's when the trip goes quiet, really. Nothing to talk about aside from the insignificant (not that she imagines Nate would mind hearing all about Flynn's near constant failures) but it's all a bit too small talk-y. A bit too cordial and dull. Three blocks away from the target, Chloe tucks the radio back in its place. "How long d'you think it'll take to scope this marker out?"
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"Eh." It's a dismissive kind of noise, easy going. Nate folds the map back up, drawing to a halt at the end of the block. There's a hotel a few blocks further, visible from here. That works. "If we're lucky and Lazarevic hasn't bowled through anything? Give me ten minutes."
He throws her a quick look, mouth quirking into a grin. Yeah girl, sometimes he's pretty good at what he does.
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"Am I missing something here because I'm not getting 'ten minutes' from any of...this." A point emphasized by one hasty little wave of her arm.
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They're lucky (when isn't he lucky?) and don't run into anyone, native or otherwise, along those last few blocks. By minute ten, Nate's found them a broken window and gotten them into the ground level of the hotel itself.
The stairs leading up from there are depressingly nonexistent.
"Okay so maybe more like twenty minutes."