Evenfall (23 page)

By the time he returned to the room, he had a bag of food that was as close to his special diet as he could manage. He also had picked up a bit of a headache from trying to converse with people in English and bits of Spanish he'd picked up while the other person rattled off Spanish as if they were competing for auctioneer of the month.

As the door swung shut behind him he glanced over and saw Sin sitting on the bed as calmly as if it had been their plan to split up all along. The senior agent had a bottle of chocolate milk on the end table next to him and a bag of pastries open on his lap. There was a canvas bag sitting on the floor by his bed that Boyd could only assume held the rest of the items he'd purchased.

"Took you long enough," Sin commented idly, as he chewed what appeared to be a cream filled fried pastry.

Boyd chose to ignore that and flicked his gaze along Sin's choices of sustenance instead. "Those are your supplies?"

Sin shrugged and licked some of the thick cream from where it had gotten on the side of his hand. "What should I get? Rations and bottled water? We're not exactly preparing for a battle in the trenches."

Boyd made a noncommittal noise and passed by Sin's canvas bag on his way to his bed. Inside the bag he saw some bottles of water and milk, chips, and a box of what looked like little sausages wrapped in pastry buns. They had a microwave and small fridge so Sin would be able to cool or reheat as he pleased, but Boyd still fought the urge to shake his head to himself.

He set down his own bag, containing milk for the protein shake powder he'd brought from the States, a rotisserie chicken, and a large side of rice. He'd looked over the menus at various restaurants and although he'd determined that he would likely end up buying paella and sarsuela at some point, the fridge wasn't large enough to keep enough food for their entire time in Spain. Since he'd needed to get back to surveil today, he'd decided to go the easy route and hope to get something more interesting in the following days.

He put some chicken and rice on a plate he'd bought and put the rest away in the fridge. He then settled down in the chair by the computers so he could keep an eye on the hotel while he ate. Still, he couldn't help being distracted thinking about how completely unhealthily Sin was eating, and how thin he appeared to be.

"You weren't assigned a diet?" he asked when the question wouldn't leave his mind.

Sin took out another pastry and looked up. "Yes." A pause. "Why, were you?"

"Yes." Boyd glanced at the pastry pointedly. "Mine didn't include sweets, not that I'd have much interest in them in the first place."

"Obviously I'm not following their guidelines."

"Why not?"

Sin stared at him as he chewed, cream smeared across his mouth and smudged on the side of it. It shouldn't have been possible to glare and eat like a child at the same time, but somehow Sin pulled it off. It almost seemed like he wouldn't answer at all, but then after swallowing he did.

"I don't normally get to pick out any of my own food."

"Why not?" Boyd asked again.

Sin arched an eyebrow as if the answer should be obvious. "I'm not allowed off the compound."

Boyd's expression didn't change although he hadn't been aware of that aspect of Sin's life. It made him wonder what else he may learn during this mission. "You've been off compound with me. Are you saying they don't allow you off compound alone or for reasons other than a mission?"

"That's what I'm saying," Sin said blandly. He sucked cream off his fingertips again.

"Why?"

This earned him a completely flat and unimpressed stare. "Are you fucking oblivious, or what?"

"No," Boyd said calmly. He took a moment to chew a piece of chicken as he considered Sin. "But I haven't been given much information despite the fact you're my partner."

"Huh." Sin shoved the bag of pastries to the side and sat up to retrieve his chocolate milk from the nightstand. "I thought it would be obvious that I'm considered too deranged to be free to roam the streets on my own."

"What is that assessment based on?"

"Surely you must have some clue."

"I know there are rumors and I've heard some of them," Boyd allowed. "As for how much is truth and how much exaggeration, I don't know. People often seem terrified of you for no reason, which leads me to distrust the validity of the rumors. So far, most of what I was informed of during training and what I've heard on compound is of little use to me."

Having finished his milk, Sin set the container down on the end table. He didn't answer for a stretch. He laid down on the bed and rubbed his hand over his stomach idly. His eyes drifted closed and once again it seemed that he wouldn't reply at all. But after a breath he spoke flatly.

"They're not all rumors."

And it was clear that the discussion was closed.

Boyd wondered what that meant. The comment did nothing to help him understand how many of the stories were false, or if any of them were false at all. If anything, it only generated more questions that he knew better than to ask. It seemed no one, not even Sin himself, was willing to give Boyd a straight answer when it came to the mysteries and misinformation that surrounded the man like smoke.

Rather than ponder something that would ultimately only frustrate him, he returned to his job. He finished
his cooling meal while he watched the computer screens for signs of Rιvolution's movements.

The days bled into each other fairly quickly. Boyd's eyes began to burn from staring at the screens for too long but he knew he had to do it. If he didn't, Sin certainly wouldn't and the last thing Boyd needed was to fail this simple of a mission.

Because of that, he was hesitant to leave the room even to get food. When he ran low on chicken and rice, he asked Sin to pick him up some food and was surprised when the other man actually did it. While Boyd adhered to his strict diet, Sin continued to get whatever he felt like at the time. That seemed to be primarily snack foods, chips and desserts. Boyd didn't think he'd seen Sin eat an actual meal once since they'd stepped foot in Spain.

While Boyd fell into a routine of flicking his eyes between screens and trying to fend off growing headaches, Sin left the room at will. When he was around, he tended to be silent. One quirk Boyd learned fairly quickly was that Sin apparently liked to work out. He would spend hours every day working out tirelessly, doing push-ups, pull-ups using a bar in the closet and sit-ups. During the more boring times of nothing happening on the surveillance, Boyd found himself silently counting Sin's repetitions while he still kept his eyes on the screen.

After a few days Boyd finally had to look away from the screens. He'd noticed some activity so far that seemed to imply there was some truth to the Agency's suspicions but he didn't have enough yet to make a call either way. There had been no interesting movement for hours and his eyeballs throbbed as if he hadn't gotten any sleep in days. Which he hadn't; not much, at least.

He leaned back in the chair and stretched, his fingers interlocking as he twisted his arms toward the ceiling. He rolled his neck and felt a few satisfying pops and then dropped back against the chair with a quiet sigh he couldn't quite stifle. The wooden chair hadn't been made for comfort for hours on end and it was starting to dig into his back uncomfortably.

He looked over at Sin, watching as he rose and fell during his
pushups
. His muscles stood out in stark relief along his otherwise wiry body, and sweat glistened on him like a second skin. His black and red hair fell in slightly wavy tangles that framed his face. Boyd found himself unconsciously looking along the length of Sin's body before he focused on his face.

Sin didn't seem to notice Boyd was in the room, which was nothing new. It didn't bother Boyd much since he preferred silence to slurs any day, and Sin at least didn't seem to go out of his way to mock Boyd unnecessarily. Or at least not when Boyd was leaving him alone.

Still, after days of staring at the same hotel in the same few angles, he found himself wanting to talk. As unusual an urge that was for him, he had to acknowledge that he was still curious about Sin. They'd barely spoken since the abrupt end of the conversation on the first day and studying Sin was a welcome respite to the monotony of surveillance.

"Is that a daily regimen back home as well?"

"What?" was the distracted reply. Sin's eyes rose to focus on him without pause in his movements.

"Your workout," Boyd said, gesturing to Sin as if the senior agent needed to look at himself for a visual aid. "You're very dedicated. Is it a habit from home?"

One dark eyebrow arched at the word home. "Why do you want to know?"

Boyd shrugged and turned the chair so he could look at Sin more easily without craning his already tired neck. "I just wondered."

Sin held his gaze without halting. His arms moved up and down without pause, his muscles flexing and extending like
well-oiled
machines. "I do it multiple times a day."

"You never grow tired?" Boyd asked, watching Sin thoughtfully.

Sin stopped his repetitions and pushed himself into a standing position. He wasn't wearing a shirt and the cotton pants he had on hung low on his hips before he tugged them up.

"Not particularly."

Boyd made a thoughtful noise. He got tired of working out after a couple of hours a day with breaks in between. Once Sin started he didn't seem to stop, and he was at it much more intensely and much longer than Boyd ever was. He didn't know where Sin got the energy.

"Your stamina is impressive," he commented.

There was a beat of silence and Sin said with a scoff, "I could say something, but I'll refrain."

Boyd's gaze lingered briefly on him, wondering whether that was a veiled insult. Regardless, if that was Sin's response to a compliment then Boyd assumed they were done talking for the moment. He looked dismissively away, turning his attention to the laptops once more. He noticed Sin moving around and heard the bathroom door shut, followed by the muffled rush of water, but didn't pay it any heed.

Many people came and went from the hotel but as had been too often the case, he didn't see anyone of note in the crowd. There was a brief moment in which he thought there was something of import happening. There was a stir in the crowd near an outdoor cafe in front of the hotel. Several people moved back and there seemed to be some sort of fight occurring in the middle of it all. But when Boyd switched to another view, he saw that it appeared to be nothing more than a jilted lover's brawl.

A woman was sitting at a table looking shocked while two men grappled with each other. One of them wore clothes with a matching jacket on the chair still pulled out across the table from the woman. None of the people involved were on the Agency's list and he didn't see anyone using the fight as a distraction to slip by unnoticed. The police showed up fairly quickly but Boyd had already returned to studying the other views.

Nothing else of interest occurred so when the bathroom door opened to a cloud of steam, Boyd automatically glanced up. He'd intended to look away immediately but was unexpectedly caught by the sight of Sin, naked and still dripping with water from the shower.

He was holding a towel at his side but when he raised his arm, he used it to rub some of the water out of his hair instead of covering himself. His entire body was exposed, showing a variety of scars that marred his olive skin. There was a smattering of scars that were obviously gunshots, many thick welts, a nasty scar that Boyd could see across Sin's throat partially covered by the collar, and a startling scar that started at his pelvis and arced down to his groin.

Sin turned away towards the pack that lay on his bed and began going through it. When he did, Boyd saw that he also had a scrawled tattoo on the back of his shoulder. After going over it twice, he recognized the quote as one from John Milton's epic Paradise Lost. 'So many and so various laws are giv’n; So many laws argue so many sins,' Boyd read silently.

He couldn't help taking in Sin's scars and tattoos along with his body itself. Although Sin often walked around shirtless and wore low-riding pants, it was the first time Boyd had seen the other man fully nude. He was thin in the waist but he was muscular, with broad shoulders that tapered into lean arms. When they'd been facing each other, Boyd also hadn't been able to help noticing that Sin was well-endowed. It all fell together to blend well with Sin's deep voice and those striking green eyes, set in a well-balanced face.

None of what Boyd saw surprised him. Every part of Sin's body seemed to match what Boyd was starting to associate with Sin as a person: attractive, unique, and with a hint of mystery.

More than anything, he wasn't particularly thrilled with himself for noticing how attractive Sin was. It didn't serve any purpose to note that. It wasn't going to help him do his job. And considering the fact that they could hardly hold a conversation for longer than several minutes, whether or not Sin's smooth voice fit the rest of him was completely irrelevant.

So he dismissed his reaction to Sin's body, although he couldn't help looking at the tattoo on Sin's shoulder again before he made himself look away. That tattoo was curious. Did it mean that Sin enjoyed classics or had he found the quote somewhere and liked it? From what Boyd understood of Sin's situation at the Agency, the quote certainly seemed appropriate. He was also curious about the scars, the nasty one arcing toward his groin in particular, but he doubted he would get a straight answer if he asked. Sin didn't seem interested in sharing too much personal information most of the time.