Mike + Indigo
Mike narrowed his eyes, held his finger against his lip and aggressively shhhhhh’d at Indie while he lowered his head. “It is if you talk about it that loudly! Damn, de Rosier – being a secret agent,” he lowered his voice, muffling it by brushing his whole hand over his mouth, “you’d think you’d be better at keeping a secret.”
His eyes sparkled with amusement and mischief, even brighter when she suggested she ought to report him. “Ah, come on,” he dropped the secrecy façade, nudging her shoulder with his arm. “You’re no fun. If you report me, I’d be removed from my position, you’d have to break in a new guy – and let’s be real,” he tilted his head, and let his eyes get about as wide and sad as they could manage, “You’d miss me too much.”
The guide emerged suddenly from the door of the Lighthouse, her parka half-on, glasses askew, and hair messily tied into a bun that lopped to one side of her head. “Uh, hi, right – sorry for the wait, everyone! We can start the tour, uh, now, I guess?”
The woman fixed her glasses and when nobody started moving, she got out of the door and started swishing her hand to signal people to start filing in. “I mean, yeah, go ahead, we don’t have all day!”
Mike chuckled under his breath and tried to hide his grin. The line started moving, people waltzing passed the disheveled girl to enter the warmth of the Lighthouse. “Do you get the impression we’re interrupting her a bit?” Mike asked Indigo.