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Indie Raymond "Red" Reddington from NBC's Blacklist. Private. Selective. Mun/Muse 21+. Dark Themes present. Please read rules/bio before following/interacting. Written by Erick

deu5exmach1na:

@criimeconcierge || closed starter

Had there not been a p r e s s i n g  matter to attend to, the AI wouldn’t have let her path cross his. Harold c e r t a i n l y would prefer for them to never meet, but the AI couldn’t simply ignore what was going to happen, nor would she suspect that her father would want her to. His paramount concern was her safety, but hers was everyone else’s.

Still heels click against the sidewalk, each step taking her closer, taking her through the park. Mac settles the disposable c u p of coffee on the table eyes fixed upon the chess pieces as she settles in the seat in front of him,  sat straight backed and alert. After a moments apparent consideration, pale fingers reach out to place a piece, in a move that he would have made if she hadn’t have sat down and distracted him. 

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Mac catches the look in his eye as she pulls her hand away from the board, and she smiles, “I’m sorry to interrupt you so, but I do hate to see a player such as yourself without a p a r t n er.”

People who didn’t know who he was didn’t often sit with him when he was playing chess in the park. People who did know who he was sat even less, not without a price… something they wanted. Raymond noticed her before he clocked her path right towards his table, a pretty thing, looking for all the world like a woman on a mission. If only he’d noticed her a hair’s breadth later, perhaps he would have seen that her mission, somehow, included him.

When she sits, Red is not affronted, he is prepared. She wants something, ᴇxᴘᴇᴄᴛs something, but she starts out by making a move for him. “The Benko gambit. Interesting choice.” Whatever she wants? Now he’s intrigued, on the hook, so to speak, waiting for the other proverbial shoe to drop. He can tell very little from what she’s shown him thus far, though her eyes catch his attention. Contacts, perhaps? A question for a later time. 

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“No trouble at all, my dear, I don’t mind the intrusion,” he did, albeit only a little, “but I would like to know what it is you ᴡᴀɴᴛ.”

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