Backscene: Old fashioned feelings with old fashioned meanings Who: John Sutton and Delia Summercourt Where: The city of Love. How ironic. When: Summer of 1961 What: Algerian freedom-activists are demanding Algeria's freedom from the French Empire and tensions are high in Paris. Undercover as a married couple, John and Delia are about to run into more trouble than the ordinary marital squabbles over money and who's to make the dishes.
It made Delia immensely nervous to actually be out in the field with another agent, a special one at that. It was her first time working for the CIA outside of America, and it was daunting in so many ways. So much more seemed to be at stake now that she wasn’t in either of her home countries, but on true foreign soil. Spinning the golden ring another lap on her finger, Delia glanced at the hawk-nosed man sitting next to her at the small café table. His real name was John Sutton, and while she liked him just well enough, their pretend marriage was rather a shock to her. Showing up for debriefing she had been presented not only with a fake identity, but also with a marriage contract and a set or rings. Paris might be the city of Love, but faking it, with someone she was not only a little afraid of, but also held great respect for, was downright intimidating. Crossing and then uncrossing her legs, she pushed her short skirt down a little, trying to cover herself up. The sunlit boulevard was a nice place for a coffee, or for waiting for a contact, or glancing at people passing by. The impulse to tap her feet nervously, or drum her fingers, was almost impossible to resist. Biting her teeth together, Delia reached for her cup of coffee, taking another sip.
Another surreptitious glance up and then down the street, and Delia resumed her study of the man at her side. They were supposed to be newly-weds, were they not? She could stare at him how much she wanted, even if it was to keep her nerves tamed down. Mr and Mrs Thomas newly-wed and newly-in-love. At least it was written into their common back story that it had been a whirlwind romance, she thought, trying to force herself to relax. Her earlier missions had not made her this nervous, but then she'd been on her own. Now she was accountable to an agent both older and more experienced than her.
Smiling hesitantly at her pretend-husband, Delia scrambled a moment for something to talk about, something that wasn’t dangerous, and kept to their story. Finally deciding on something, she breathed in nervously and licked her painted lips. "Well, darling..." At once tentative about this intimate nickname, she trailed off, before finding her courage and speaking on. "You never told me, is this your first time in Paris?" Pushing her shoulder length hair away from her face, she wished she had remembered to bring her sunglasses to hide behind, and tried to meet his gaze without turning shy.