Conundrum

"Hale, please. I wouldn't have blown my cover. They have no idea who I am. And they'll never see me again." Ivy, known as Sher by her friends, stared at me, her green eyes a mix of anger and smugness. 

"Oh really? Cause the last time I checked, teenagers don't carry guns and capture criminals spontaneously aboard a flight- or anywhere in that case. And, to make matters worse, I just got off the phone with Anderson. To put it lightly, he's pissed."

I could see it now. Sher, walking into the headquarters of the CIA immediately greeted by Agent Anderson, a large middle-aged man who is known to make killers cry. He would stand there, staring her down with his piercing eyes and take away every certification, every weapon, her whole job and send her on her way. But of course that wouldn't happen, because Sher is well, Sher.

"Ivy," Anderson would say, he never called Sher by her nickname, "We need to talk."

And Sher would respond, "No Harlow," she never used his last name, "We need to talk." And then she would go on, rambling about some new code that needed to be enforced about firearms at airports, even if they fired blanks. And, after a ten minute conversation, consisting of Sher talking and Anderson nodding, Sher would leave, certifications and all.

"Ivy, we need to talk." Anderson demanded after ambushing us at the entrance of the headquarters where we just arrived.

"No Harlow, we need talk." Just like that everything fell into place, playing out as usual; Sher got what Sher wanted.

"See he understood." Sher boosted as we walked into the lobby of our apartment building.

"No one could understand you if they tried," i mumbled in response, so soft she didn't here- or perhaps just ignored it. "So how did the job in London go?" I asked, trying to change the subject.

"Fine," She replied, giving no more detail than usual.

"Was it Moriarty?"

"Of course," She sighed as I opened the door to her apartment."Blaire we're back," She announced, cutting me off and walking in.

Blaire came rushing to the entrance, her dark brown hair pulled into a bun, her jeans and loose sweater covered in flour. "How'd the job go?" She asked.

"Fine." Sher responded, once again ambiguous and frank. "I'm going to need a new suitcase though." She pointed to the two bullet holes penetrating the black fabric. She had been lugging the damn thing around all day, since I picked her up at the airport, to the office, and finally up the three flights of stairs to her apartment since she refuses to take the elevator.

"We'll go tomorrow," Blaire responded unfazed by the bullets. She's young, just 25 but the closest thing Sher has to a mother, well usually she treats her more of a house keeper. Technically she's her Aunt, Sher's mother's only sibling. Blaire took her in after her parents were killed by a man named Moriarty. Both Sher's parents worked as CIA agents, in an unknown field that works closely with local police nationally as well as worldwide. After her parents were killed, Sher also was asked to join the team- first as an honary member, but as time progressed she began getting full pay and many job benefits. With her 190 IQ its no surprise either. In fact, her talent is so incredible, people began calling her Sherlock, and later Sher.

"I baked a cake," Blaire said to no one in particular.

"Wonderful it smells Delicious!" I encouraged, filling in for Sher who had already sat in her favorite antique arm chair, hands up reading the news paper; an imagine often perceived to be occupied by a sixty year old man.

"I thought we could have it for dessert- I made pasta and vodka sauce."

"Who's coming," Sher demanded, slamming done the Washington Times.

"Well I invited someone, he's very nice, and his name is-"

"Devon; I know. Isn't that the man who you met at the deli two weeks ago? The apartment still smells of his cigars." Sher interrupted. I instinctively sniffed the air smelling nothing but air freshener. "Can't smell Hale? Probably caused she used an entire can of Lysol to cover it up. Didn't do much." She continued.

"Yes, well I do hate the sme-"

Sher was merciless against Blaire. "Another date. This is the fifth one this month, isn't it?"

"six- I went out with a man named charlie while you were in London."

"Yes of course. His favorite perfume, oh sorry I meant colon is the one sitting on the counter," Sher pointed from behind her.

"Yes, well he left it here. I was planning on giving it back but I have no idea where he lives."

"224 Randolph Place. You know Blaire, you should really do your homework."

"Just like her parents," Blaire mumbled, just out of earshot of Sher, "she's gonna get herself killed."

"You know, this evening is going to be wonderful. He's coming at seven right? Of course he is it says so on your calender, on your hand, you're going to get ink poisoning, and of course, the reminder on your phone just went off. Well I better go get changed." The sarcasm in her voice was impossible to miss. If things go as normal, we are in for a very, very interesting evening.

***

I have so much fun writing dialogue for Sher- she is so obnoxious yet awesome at the same time. :) anywho tell me how you like it- what you think I need to improve on or fix and I will gladly go ahead and fix it! Also I'm deticating this chapter to @BeaFree- she has really helped me improve my summary and one of my first readers- I'll be deticating a chapter to evryone of my early supporters so follwers like...well lets keep that a secret, for now! But vote, comment, and read and you may get a dedication!!! Also a special shout-out to @Mistcatcher- my very first reader!!!

Also the pic in the corner is of hale- wattpad is being stupid and won't let me upload blaire lolz- I'll do her in the next chapter

xoxo

Jillian