[paris] never ending circles. [tag; roman]

What did one wear to a clandestine meeting?

The thought bumped around Sofia's head as she heaved a sigh and flicked through the rows of clothing, growing more disenchanted with every passing look. She supposed it didn't really matter because doing anything with Roman was a risk. He'd asked to meet her in Paris, at Place de la Concorde. The symbolism wasn't lost on her - they guillotined people during the French Revolution. It was charming. So, she decided to be a Parisienne for the day.

Zipping up her boots, she gave herself a quick once over in her mirror and adjusted her beret so it sat "just so" on her head, her dark curls tumbling over her shoulders before she apparated.

The city rushed up to meet her as she landed on the worn cobble stones, the sound of car horns and chatter as the weak autumn sunlight attempted to filter through the clouds. Sofia pushed up her dark sunglasses to sit more comfortably on the bridge of her nose as she fell into step by the locals and the tourists, picking up her strides as she crossed the roads between the traffic lights. Roman would like the beret, she thought. And the thigh high boots.

She arrived at the square right on time and she watched a couple of young lovers pose by one of the fountains. Sofia didn't bother to hide her look of exasperation. One flick of her wand would send them both tumbling backwards into the water but she wasn't that cruel.

She turned as something caught her eye and she tilted her head. "You're late," she called across the square with a slow smile, her eyes giving him a once over that he'd be able to see, even behind her dark lenses. Swiftly, she pulled out his note from her coat pocket and cleared her throat.

"What's with all the cloak and daggers?" She asked Roman with a grin as she held up his parchment, deciding to read it aloud to refresh his memory. "Place de la Concorde. September 30th. 4PM. Wear something appropriate," she arched an eyebrow in question. With a shake of her head, she slipped the note back into her coat as she spun in a circle, the garment flapping around her elegantly. "Do I pass?" She asked innocently.

She let him come to her as she placed a kiss on both of his cheeks politely. "How's the finger?" The Italian asked gently, taking a step back. "So," she said briskly, clapping her gloved hands together briskly. "The reason for the dramatics?" Sofia smiled. "A vague note, dragging me to Paris..." she trailed off before she stepped in, her voice in a stage whisper.

"Is this where you're finally going to admit to me that you're some sort of secret agent?" Sofia gasped melodramatically, a hand coming to her chest in shock. "If you tell me that you're an Auror, Roman, I'm going to be very disappointed." She laughed, folding her hands behind her back as she rocked on the balls of her feet. "Not going to chop off my head, are you?" She asked him cheerfully. "You're a couple of centuries too late for that."


@Roman Nikula

Roman was almost surprised she’d come, if he was being honest. Not that he thought Sofia wouldn’t find him worthy of her time – that much he was sure of. But it would certainly be within her wheelhouse to simply not show up all, just to spite him. The wizard pulled a face and pointed at himself as if to say who? Me? as he weaved his way through the crowds easily, pausing briefly to pose for her inspection, as he shot her a rare smile. He’d opted for a light suit jacket, a crisp shirt, and a pair of trousers, no quite feeling like going full Parisian, but feeling more fancy than just dark jeans. He slid his own sunglasses down his nose sassily returning the silent appraisal.

The Finn tilted his head appreciatively as he watched her before he moved to greet her properly, placing brief kisses of his own on each of her cheeks “I would say you pass and then some” he complimented as he stepped back, still taking her in. The wizard snorted softly as he spoke next “Cloak and dagger..” he started and then found himself distracted by the memory of the witch breaking his finger the last time they’d met, and he rubbed at it absently “My finger is fine, thank you..” he said, shooting her a mischievous look as he went on “but it seems like every time I go to move that finger, my middle finger moves instead” he winked.
He watched as she stepped into him, eyebrows raised conspiratorially as he listened to her suggestions about his true motives. He tried to keep a straight face, but found himself laughing genuinely when she got to the part where she suggested he might be an auror “Sofia, If I’m an auror, then you’re a healer.” he told her in between laughs as he added “please, beheading is tacky..” only half joking.

The ex-Klyk offered her his arm as he shot her a sideways look and shrugged “I wanted to see you, and I was going into a business meeting, so I had to be brief” He explained, knowing she would know what sort of meeting he was talking about. “Plus,” He added confidently “I know I better make it worth your time, and you do like a good bit of challenge and mystery.”

“I figured we could play muggle for the evening, no?” He told her as they walked, and he was thankful not to have to shorten his long stride much “I could get us a table at that new five-star restaurant?” He suggested “But my time is effectively yours.” He told her honestly. He needed no practice playing muggle, but if it was the price for good company, and potentially another broken finger, he would indulge her.

"Marvellous," Sofia replied with an uncharacteristically sunny smile. Neatly, she folded the parchment and slipped it back into her coat pocket, a slim eyebrow arched as he trailed off before she grinned, showing her white and even teeth. "Ah," she nodded sagely, tapping the side of her head with an index finger to show that she understood. "You like cloak and dagger," she laughed, hands clasped in front of her as she rocked back and forth on her heels. "Me too."

His finger was fine. "I should hope so. It was a clean break," Sofia explained as though she'd done Roman a favour. Swiftly, she laughed again, hating how easily he accomplished it. "Sounds serious," she joked. "I'll send you to my doctor. He's very discreet."

Offended, she pressed a hand to her chest as she gasped before she rolled her eyes. "I don't trust you," she told the redhead firmly before she smirked. "And I don't know what you mean," she remarked serenely as she surveyed her perfect nails painted in a shade of dark plum, flicking her eyes back up to Roman's. "I have a wonderful bedside manner," she purred.

"Ugh, I agree," Sofia lamented as she rolled her eyes, slipping her arm into Roman's as they fell into step with one another. "So much blood. An absolute nightmare to get out of silk," she told him from experience. His next comment made her smile, genuinely this time. She looked over at him and bit her lip, not even bothering to hide her grin. "Don't tell me you're getting soft," she cooed playfully, understanding what the term business meant in this context. In fact, she was a bit jealous. She hadn't had many business meetings herself, lately.

Sofia laughed again with a shake of her head, her dark curls swishing in the diminishing Parisian light. "Thank you," she told Roman lightly. It was nice to be properly understood, despite them not knowing much about each other. They'd been playing this game for years now. She knew her endgame but his was still up in the air.

When Roman asked to be Muggles, she shot him a look, an eyebrow arched. "Lucky for you, you don't want to know where I've stashed my wand," she flirted, head tilted at his choice of restaurant. "And you're just going to walk in there and get us a table?" The Italian asked, her dark eyes wide. If Roman meant the one she was thinking of, he was actually insane.

Sofia fell silent as they walked aimlessly, a cool breeze kicking up the ends of her hair. "A girl has to eat," she finally said, accepting his invitation due to morbid curiosity and a spark of excitement. Swiftly, she cleared her throat. The only "time" she wanted from him consisted of them rolling around in hotel sheets but she refrained and bit the insides of her cheek. "That'd be nice," she told Roman diplomatically. "What's the menu like?" She asked interestedly.